Page 3 of Seeking Vengeance

“Have you decided what you’d like to order?”

Shit. I clasp a hand to my throat, startled by the waitress’s return. “I’m sorry.” I swivel to meet her waiting gaze from the corner of my eye. “I’ll have the beef carpaccio to start and then the corzetti. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. How about more wine?”

I swallow over my increased pulse and glance at the puddle of liquid in my glass. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great. I’ll return right away.” She beams.

I throw back the remaining alcohol as she walks away, needing the wine to smother the chastising voices in my head.

I’m slipping.

Faltering.

I’m better than this. Underhanded tactics are practically a birthright. I was born to scheme. To be devious and manipulative. The ability to drag the Costa family to its knees is in my genes and I plan to lean into those intrinsic skills to get this job done right.

Focus, Layla. Don’t get distracted.

I’ve worked too hard to mess this up now. I’ve tracked their fashion label on the stock market since February. I have online notifications set up for each property in their portfolio. I have files on all their legitimate employees. I’ve done background checks and rummaged around many skeleton-filled closets.

Theywillget what they deserve.

And Iwillbe the one to dish out their punishment.

“…Well, I just don’t understand how the gardener can’t keep on top of the bug infestation that’s destroying the roses at the back of the property,” Adena whines. “What are we paying him for if the blooms are constantly ruined?”

I sag into my seat as the discussion diverts into menial topics that are of no use. The five of them discuss the weather, of all things. Then cryptocurrency.

I grow impatient as my first meal arrives and their conversation moves to Salvatore’s next car purchase—an Aston Martin that I hope he wraps around a pole.

When my main is served, they’re murmuring about an upcoming vacation, the parents requesting the company of their adult kids while Salvatore, Remy, and Abri decline with varying lackluster excuses.

Salvatore will be at their fashion label’s flagship warehouse, meeting with management. Remy can’t join the sun, surf, and sand because contractors are scheduled to paint his bedroom. And Abri gives no more than an “I’m busy” as she continues to sulk.

I finish my meal without another morsel of insight into their illegal dealings. No names to investigate. No meetings or locations to stake out.

I order another drink and force down a plate of tiramisu to justify my extended time at the highly sought-after table. But it isn’t long before the waitress brings my bill, subtly announcing her desire for me to leave.

Goddammit.

I’ve outstayed my welcome and I can’t risk not gaining another reservation in the future. I have no choice but to tip big and make my way to the bar for another glass of wine.

I refuse to walk away until the Costas do. It doesn’t matter that I’m now out of listening range. I can still watch through the mirror behind the wall lined with liquor bottles, hating every breath they dare to breathe.

I try to read their body language. Their straight shoulders and tight jaws. I attempt to decipher the reason behind the occasional scowls from the three siblings, but the distance between us slaughters the deeper levels of observation.

When they pay their check and stand, I gulp my last mouthful of wine and pull my purse strap over my shoulder as I slide from the stool.

They walk for the door, one after the other, Abri in the lead, Salvatore and Emmanuel at the back like the protecting wolves of the pack.

I wait until the old man is at the entry before I follow, my footsteps immediately halting when a bulky suit-clad man pushes back from the bar to block my path.

“Excuse me.” I attempt to walk around him only to have him pivot into me, countering my move, his hulking body deliberately obstructing my escape.

Hard blue eyes meet mine as his lips thin. “Take a seat.”

The bitter taste of panic soaks my tongue. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I don’t know you.”

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