Chapter 1 - The Answer That Changed the Room
“What do you mean, not yet?” Noah asked softly.
Lyra removed the pins from her mouth one at a time.
The tiny metallic clicks sounded absurdly loud.
She placed them into the magnetic dish on the cutting table and looked at him through the mirror.
“I mean exactly what I said.”
Noah’s eyes remained fixed on hers.
Paulie had gone completely still by the door.
Outside, rain struck the storefront glass in uneven bursts. A car passed through a puddle, tires hissing along Fourth Street. Somewhere down the block, a truck horn sounded.
Inside the tailor shop, no one moved.
“No boyfriend,” Noah said.
“Not currently.”
“But you want one.”
Lyra stepped down from the stool.
She forced herself to set the chalk on the table before answering. Her hands were shaking now, and she did not want him to see.
“I want to finish this suit before Friday,” she said. “That is what I want.”
For one brief second, Noah looked almost amused.
Then the amusement disappeared.
“You avoided the question.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it is none of your business.”
Paulie inhaled through his mouth.
Lyra heard it.
The sound seemed to remind everyone in the room that Noah Moretti was not a difficult customer who might leave a bad review. He was a capo with men on every street corner from the river to the old church district. He was the kind of man restaurant owners lowered their voices around. The kind of man cops looked past when they wanted a quiet shift.
And she had just told him his question was none of his business.
Noah looked at the half-fitted jacket draped over his shoulders.
Then he looked at her.
“You are right,” he said.
Lyra blinked.
“What?”
“My question was not your business.”
Paulie’s expression shifted too.
It was small, but Lyra caught it.
Surprise.
Noah Moretti did not apologize. Everyone knew that.
But he had just come dangerously close.
He pulled a thick envelope from inside his coat and placed it on the cutting table. Cash.
More cash than the suit was worth.
“Finish it when you can,” he said.
Lyra glanced at the envelope but did not touch it.
“The price is on the invoice.”
“I know.”
“Then pay the invoice.”
Noah’s mouth tightened.
“I am paying for priority.”
“You did not ask for priority.”
“I am asking now.”
Lyra folded her arms.
“Then I charge double.”
Paulie stared at her as if she had just volunteered to swim across the East River in winter.
But Noah only watched her.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Double,” he said.
Lyra opened the envelope.
It contained enough money to cover six months of overdue rent, the broken heating grate, and the medical bill still sitting unopened in her apartment drawer.
For one dangerous moment, relief flooded her.
Then she looked at Noah again.
“Money does not buy my personal life.”
“No,” he said. “It does not.”
His voice had changed.
The jealousy was still there. She could feel it beneath his calm, coiled and ugly and real.
But so was something else.
Restraint.
Noah removed the jacket and handed it to her.
“Friday,” he said.
“Friday.”
He turned toward the door.
Then he stopped.
Without facing her, he said, “If someone gives you trouble, you call Paulie.”
Lyra’s stomach tightened.
“I will not.”
“You should.”
“I do not know Paulie.”
“You do now.”
Paulie looked offended.
“No disrespect, boss,” he said, “but she absolutely should not call me.”
Lyra almost smiled.
Noah looked between them.
Then he said, “Fine. Call no one.”
“That was already the plan.”
He opened the door.
Cold rain blew into the shop.
Before leaving, he glanced once over his shoulder.
“You should get a boyfriend,” he said.
Lyra stared at him.
“That is the opposite of what you were just implying.”
Noah’s expression became unreadable.
May you like
“I did not say it would be easy for him.”
Then he walked into the rain.
