The sender’s name was Olivia Hart.
The subject line read: Tonight’s little experiment.
My stomach tightened.
Daniel tapped the message open and turned the screen toward me.
The email had been sent that afternoon.
Daniel,
She’ll arrive around seven-thirty. Her name is Emily Carter. She has no idea who you are beyond the rumors, so please don’t tell her too much at first. We just want to see how long it takes before she realizes the whole thing is a joke.
The girls will be at the table near the column. We’ll record the first few minutes. It’ll be harmless. She needs to loosen up.
Please play along.
I read it once.
Then again.
The words blurred slightly.
“You knew?” I whispered.
“I knew your friends had arranged a blind date,” Daniel said. “I didn’t know they planned to record you.”
I looked toward Olivia.
She had gone pale, but she still had enough courage to lift her chin.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said.
“It was exactly like that,” I replied.
The two women with her avoided my gaze.
One of them, Claire, pressed her lips together. The other, Melissa, stared at the tablecloth as if it had suddenly become fascinating.
Olivia stood.
“Emily, come sit with us. We were just having fun.”
“You told him to play along.”
Her expression faltered.
“You said I needed to loosen up.”
“It was a joke,” she insisted.
“A joke has a punchline.” I pushed the phone back toward Daniel. “This was just waiting for me to be embarrassed.”
Olivia’s face reddened. “You’ve been hiding in that bookstore for months. You don’t go anywhere. You don’t talk to anyone. We were trying to get you out of your shell.”
“By sending me to a man you described as Boston’s most dangerous criminal?”
“I never called him a criminal.”
“You sent me his name.”
She glanced at Daniel.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed her face.
Daniel leaned back in his chair. He looked calm, almost detached, but I noticed the slight tension in his jaw.
“Olivia,” he said, “you told Emily I owned half the city and had people followed when they annoyed me.”
“I said people were afraid of you.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
“I was exaggerating.”
“You also told her I once made a restaurant close because the chef insulted me.”
“That was a story.”
“It was false.”
Olivia’s mouth opened, then closed.
The pianist continued playing. Somewhere behind us, a glass broke, and a waiter apologized as he cleaned it up. The restaurant had returned to normal, but I felt as though I were sitting in the middle of a stage with all the lights pointed at me.
I picked up my handbag.
“I’m leaving.”
Daniel’s eyes shifted to me. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That seemed to surprise him.
I stood, smoothing my dress with shaking hands. I hated that my eyes were stinging. I hated even more that Olivia could see it.
She came around the table.
“Emily, wait.”
“No.”
“Please. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Then why were you recording?”
Her cheeks flushed.
Claire finally spoke. “Olivia thought if you saw yourself laughing with someone, you’d realize you weren’t as awkward as you think.”
I stared at her.
“That is the most insulting explanation I’ve ever heard.”
“I know,” Claire murmured. “I’m sorry.”
The apology sounded genuine, which somehow made everything worse.
Olivia folded her arms. “You act like we were trying to destroy you.”
“No. You were trying to entertain yourselves.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither was this.”
I walked away from the table.
I had made it three steps when Daniel said my name.
Not loudly.
Not in the commanding way I expected from a man people supposedly feared.
Just gently enough to make me stop.
“Emily, before you go, may I ask you one question?”
I turned.
He picked up the phone and locked the screen.
“Did Olivia tell you why she chose the Grand Oak?”
“Because it was expensive and dramatic.”
“That’s what she told you?”
“Yes.”
Daniel glanced toward Olivia.
She looked suddenly uncomfortable.
The feeling of unease that had followed me into the restaurant returned.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
Olivia shook her head. “Nothing.”
Daniel studied her for a moment.
Then he looked at me. “Your reservation was made under my name.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I have a standing table here. Olivia called yesterday and asked the restaurant to use it.”
“So?”
“So the restaurant’s general manager contacted me this afternoon because she wanted to make sure I approved the change.”
“Why would she need your approval?”
“Because she told him you were coming to meet me.”
I looked at Olivia again.
She had stopped pretending to be offended.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Daniel slid the phone toward me once more. This time, he opened a text message.
It wasn’t from Olivia.
It was from an unfamiliar number.
Please don’t let Emily leave until you’ve spoken to her privately. She won’t believe you if you tell her the truth in front of the others.
There was no signature.
No explanation.
Only the time stamp.
4:12 p.m.
My mouth went dry.
“Who sent that?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know the number?”
“No.”
“Then why did you come?”
Daniel’s gaze remained on mine.
“Because the message included your full name.”
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
Olivia stepped closer. “What message?”
Daniel turned the phone so she could see it.
Her face changed.
“What is that?” she asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” he said.
She read the message twice.
“I didn’t send this.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“But you think I know something.”
“I think you know more than you’ve told Emily.”
Olivia’s eyes flickered toward me.
That tiny movement was enough.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Olivia.”
She pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“Can we not do this here?”
“That depends on what ‘this’ is.”
She looked at Daniel. “You said this was only dinner.”
“I said I would meet her. I never promised not to ask questions.”
“Ask her what?” I demanded.
Daniel stood.
It was a simple movement, but the room seemed to notice. Several people glanced in our direction, then quickly looked away.
He was tall, composed, and impossible to read. Yet when he faced me, there was no threat in his expression. Only a strange kind of concern.
“I don’t know exactly what’s happening,” he said. “But someone wanted us to meet, and I don’t believe the reason was only your friends’ prank.”
I laughed once, without humor.
“This keeps getting better.”
“I agree.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
The honesty disarmed me.
He gestured toward the empty chair. “Please sit for five minutes. If you still want to leave afterward, I’ll have my driver take you home.”
“I can take a taxi.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“Then why offer?”
“Because it’s late, you’re upset, and I’d rather know you arrived safely.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “Yet people insist on offering me one.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
I sat, but only because my knees felt unsteady.
Daniel remained standing for a moment, then took his seat again.
Olivia and the others returned to their table, though none of them looked comfortable. The waiter approached with a fresh glass of water. I wrapped both hands around it without drinking.
“Start at the beginning,” I said.
Daniel nodded.
“Yesterday afternoon, Olivia contacted me through the restaurant. She said she wanted to arrange a surprise dinner for a friend who had been through a difficult breakup. She asked whether I would pretend to be a stranger on a blind date.”
I looked toward Olivia.
“That part is true,” she said quietly.
“She told me you were shy,” Daniel continued. “That you might leave if you knew who I was. She said she wanted you to have an interesting story.”
“Interesting,” I repeated.
“I accepted because I thought it was harmless.”
“Why?”
He paused.
“Because I understood what it was like to have people make assumptions about you before meeting you.”
There was something behind the words. Something personal.
Before I could ask, he continued.
“Then, at 4:12, I received the anonymous message. After that, I tried to call the number. It had been disconnected.”
“Did you tell the police?”
His expression shifted faintly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because receiving an unsettling text is not a crime.”
“Coming from a mafia boss, it sounds like the opening scene of one.”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The first joke you’ve made tonight.”
I looked away, embarrassed by how easily he had caught it.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The anger inside me was still there, but it had changed shape. It was no longer aimed only at Olivia. There was another question beneath it, one I didn’t want to ask.
Why had someone wanted Daniel to meet me?
“I have no idea who would send that,” I said.
“Does your name mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“Emily Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever met anyone connected to me?”
“No.”
“Worked for one of my companies?”
“I sell books.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Olivia mentioned it.”
I frowned. “What else did she mention?”
“That you’ve worked at Maple Street Books for six years. That you live alone. That your father moved to Arizona. That you were engaged once.”
My fingers tightened around the glass.
“She told you all that?”
“She offered it.”
“That wasn’t hers to offer.”
“No,” he agreed. “It wasn’t.”
The simple agreement steadied me more than any reassurance could have.
I turned toward Olivia again.
“Why did you tell him about my family?”
She looked miserable now, but I wasn’t sure whether it was guilt or fear.
“I was trying to give him some background.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t talk to him otherwise.”
“You didn’t even know if I would like him.”
“I knew you needed to meet someone.”
“You don’t know what I need.”
Olivia blinked rapidly.
For a moment, the anger left her face and something more vulnerable took its place.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t.”
It was the first honest thing she had said all evening.
She came toward our table again, stopping several feet away.
“I was worried about you,” she continued. “After Jason, you stopped answering calls. You stopped coming out. You smiled at work, but it never reached your eyes.”
“That doesn’t excuse this.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Her voice broke slightly. “I know I crossed a line. I thought if I made the situation ridiculous enough, you’d have no choice but to laugh.”
“I was already laughing,” I said. “You just didn’t see it.”
She looked down.
Claire covered her face with one hand.
Melissa quietly said, “We should go.”
Olivia nodded, but before she turned away, she looked at Daniel.
“I swear I didn’t send that message.”
“I believe you.”
She looked surprised.
“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re withholding something.”
Her gaze moved to me.
I waited.
She exhaled slowly.
“There was a woman who called me last week.”
My skin prickled.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“What did she want?”
“To ask about you.”
“About me?”
“She said she used to know your mother.”
The restaurant noise seemed to fade.
My mother had been dead for almost eight years. I rarely spoke about her, even with Olivia.
“What did she say?” I asked.
Olivia’s face tightened. “She asked if you still worked at Maple Street Books. I thought it was a wrong number, so I didn’t think much of it.”
“You didn’t think much of it?”
“She knew your name. She knew where you worked. She said she had something that belonged to your mother.”
My heart began beating harder.
“What something?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I did. She hung up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Olivia looked ashamed. “Because I forgot. Then yesterday happened, and I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“That maybe I could use the date to get you out of the bookstore long enough to tell you.”
I stared at her.
“You planned to tell me after you finished laughing?”
“No. I was going to tell you before you left.”
“Were you?”
Her eyes filled, and this time I knew it wasn’t an act.
“I’m sorry, Emily.”
I believed that she was sorry.
I didn’t forgive her.
Not yet.
Daniel reached into his jacket again.
This time, I didn’t flinch.
He removed a slim brown envelope and placed it on the table.
My name was written across the front in black ink.
Not printed.
Written.
The handwriting looked familiar.
Too familiar.
I leaned forward, unable to breathe properly.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was delivered to my office this morning.”
“By whom?”
“A courier. No return address.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I didn’t know whether it was connected to the message. I wanted to speak to you first.”
My hand hovered over the envelope.
The handwriting belonged to my mother.
I knew it immediately.
The tall, narrow letters. The way she crossed her t’s too high. The small looping curve beneath the final e in my name.
My mother had been gone for years.
Yet there it was.
Emily.
I looked at Daniel, my voice barely audible.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was addressed to you.”
The restaurant seemed to contract around us, every sound pressing closer.
I touched the envelope with one finger.
There was something inside. A thin object, perhaps a folded sheet of paper.
On the back, beneath the seal, someone had written a single sentence:
Your mother asked me to wait until you were ready.
I looked up at Daniel.
“What does that mean?”
His expression had lost its guarded calm.
“I don’t know.”
“Who sent this?”
He shook his head.
Then, after a long silence, he added, “But I think my father may have known your mother.”
My fingers went cold against the envelope.
Daniel reached for it, then stopped before touching my hand.
“There’s something else,” he said.
“What?”
“My father kept a letter in his private files for more than twenty years.”
He held my gaze.
“It was signed with your mother’s name.”
-END OF PART 2
