Chapter 1 - THE KISS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Five hundred dollars.
That’s how much my coworkers offered me to kiss the mysterious stranger sitting alone in the darkest corner of our bar.
I was twenty-eight years old, broke, exhausted, and wearing a pair of black work shoes that had started letting rainwater through the soles.
There were forty-three dollars and seventeen cents in my checking account.
My rent was due Monday.
My younger brother needed another round of physical therapy.
And the five hundred dollars lying on the sticky wooden table in front of me looked less like a dare and more like a miracle.
I had no idea that accepting it would put me directly in the path of the most feared man in Chicago.
Or that he already knew my name.
My name is Mara Bellamy.
I’m not the kind of woman men usually notice when I walk into a room.
At least, that’s what people have spent most of my life teaching me to believe.
I’m five feet six, with wide hips, a soft stomach, thick thighs, and a body that never seemed to fit the expectations other people had for it.
I’ve heard every version of the same insult.
You’d be beautiful if you lost a little weight.
You have such a pretty face.
Are you really going to eat all that?
Eventually, you learn to laugh before anyone can see that they’ve hurt you.
You learn to take up less space.
You learn to apologize when someone bumps into you.
But I was tired of apologizing for existing.
That Friday night, the Black Lantern was crowded with businessmen, college students, and people who could afford to spend more on one cocktail than I spent on groceries.
Rain hammered the windows.
Music pulsed beneath the conversations.
The air smelled of bourbon, expensive perfume, and the citrus cleaner we used on the tables.
I’d been working for eleven hours.
My manager, Dennis, had criticized my appearance twice.
A customer had snapped his fingers at me like I was a dog.
And my seventeen-year-old brother, Noah, had texted me that afternoon.
They said I can’t continue therapy unless we pay the balance.
I had stared at that message in the supply closet until my vision blurred.
Noah had been injured in a car accident fourteen months earlier.
Our mother had died when we were children, and our father had disappeared long before that.
It had always been the two of us.
When Noah was little, he used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms and ask whether the house could fall down.
I’d wrap my arms around him and say, “Not while I’m here.”
Now he was seventeen, struggling to walk without pain, and I was still making promises I didn’t know how to keep.
That was why I looked at the money.
Five crisp hundred-dollar bills.
“Come on, Mara,” Vanessa said, laughing.
“It’s just a kiss.”
Vanessa was beautiful in the effortless way that made strangers buy her drinks.
She leaned against the bar, smiling at me.
“Unless you’re scared he’ll reject you.”
A few coworkers laughed.
I felt heat creep up my neck.
“Who is he?”
Vanessa pointed toward the darkest booth.
A man sat alone beneath a brass wall lamp.
Black suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
Dark hair brushed back from his forehead.
An untouched glass of bourbon sat beside his hand.
He wasn’t looking at his phone.
He wasn’t watching the television.
He simply sat there, still and silent, as though the noise of the bar existed somewhere far beneath him.
There was something unsettling about that stillness.
He looked like a man who never needed to raise his voice.
“Five hundred,” Vanessa repeated.
“Walk over, kiss him, come back.”
I stared at the money.
Then I glanced at the man.
“On the cheek?”
Vanessa smiled.
“On the lips.”
My stomach tightened.
“That’s not funny.”
“Then don’t do it.”
She began gathering the bills.
And I thought about Noah.
About his therapy.
About the landlord’s final warning.
About the envelope of unpaid bills waiting on our kitchen table.
“Wait.”
Vanessa stopped.
I swallowed.
“I’ll do it.”
Behind the counter, the bartender, Luis, immediately grabbed my wrist.
“Mara.
Don’t.”
His expression frightened me.
“Why?”
“Choose someone else.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Luis looked toward the booth.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Because some men don’t forgive being touched.”
I should have listened.
Instead, I heard Vanessa laughing behind me.
“She’s backing out!”
Something inside me snapped.
I was tired of being afraid.
Afraid of bills.
Afraid of rejection.
Afraid of people who treated me like I should be grateful for the smallest scraps of kindness.
So I straightened my shoulders.
And walked toward the stranger.
With every step, the room seemed to grow quieter.
Two men standing near the rear exit watched me pass.
A woman at the neighboring table abruptly lowered her eyes.
Even the bartender stopped polishing glasses.
But I didn’t turn around.
I reached the booth.
“Excuse me.”
The stranger lifted his head.
His eyes were dark gray.
Not cold exactly.
Worse.
Unreadable.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
His voice was deep, quiet, and strangely calm.
“I’m Mara.”
Something changed in his expression.
So quickly I almost missed it.
His fingers stopped moving against the glass.
“Mara,” he repeated.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He studied my face.
“Do I know you?”
“No.”
The word came out too quickly.
My courage was evaporating.
Behind me, someone giggled.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Vanessa raised the money.
The stranger followed my gaze.
His expression hardened.
“Did someone send you here?”
I looked back at him.
And suddenly felt ashamed.
Not because of my body.
Not because of the dare.
Because he was a stranger, and I was about to make him part of a joke he hadn’t agreed to.
“I should probably ask you something first,” I whispered.
One dark eyebrow lifted.
“Go ahead.”
My heart hammered.
“Would you mind if I kissed you?”
For the first time, genuine surprise crossed his face.
He looked past me toward the bar.
Then back into my eyes.
“Why?”
I could have invented something charming.
Instead, I told the truth.
“Because someone bet me five hundred dollars that I wouldn’t.”
Silence.
Then he asked, “And you need five hundred dollars badly enough to kiss a stranger?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.
“Then I suppose I should ask whether you actually want to.”
Nobody had asked me that all evening.
I stared at him.
He was intimidating.
Beautiful, in a severe and dangerous way.
But beneath the expensive suit and guarded expression, there was something unexpectedly human about the question.
“I think I do,” I admitted.
His eyes moved to my mouth.
Then returned to mine.
“All right, Mara.”
He leaned forward slightly.
“One kiss.”
I placed a trembling hand against his shoulder.
His body went still.
Then I bent toward him.
And kissed him.
It lasted barely a second.
His lips were warm.
He smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive soap.
When I pulled away, his eyes were closed.
Only for a moment.
Then he opened them.
And looked at me as though I’d done something neither of us understood.
That was when the front doors burst open.
Six men in dark suits entered.
They moved quickly, scanning the room.
One hurried directly toward our booth.
“Boss.
The car is ready.”
Boss.
My blood turned cold.
Another man glanced at my coworkers.
His hand moved beneath his jacket.
I stepped forward instinctively.
“No!”
The entire room froze.
“They didn’t force me,” I said, my voice shaking.
“It was a dare, but I agreed to it.”
The stranger slowly stood.
He was taller than I’d realized.
Broad-shouldered.
Impossibly composed.
He looked down at me.
“You kissed a stranger without knowing who he was?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My eyes burned.
“Because I wanted to prove I wasn’t afraid.”
“And now?”
I swallowed.
“Now I’m starting to think I should have been.”
Something almost like a smile touched his mouth.
Then he turned toward his men.
“Stand down.”
Their hands dropped.
He buttoned his jacket.
But before leaving, he looked at me once more.
“Take your money, Mara.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You earned it.”
Then he walked away.
The six men followed.
And the entire bar seemed to exhale.
I stumbled toward the counter.
Luis looked sick.
“Who was that?”
He stared at me.
“Adrian Moretti.”
I stopped breathing.
Everyone in Chicago knew that name.
Adrian Moretti controlled nightclubs, shipping companies, luxury hotels, and enough criminal territory to make even powerful politicians nervous.
Rumors followed him everywhere.
People disappeared after betraying him.
Business rivals changed cities.
Men twice his age lowered their voices when discussing him.
And I had just kissed him.
Vanessa was no longer laughing.
I looked at the money.
Then at the door.
“Well,” I whispered, “that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
Luis’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then slowly turned toward me.
“Mara.”
Something in his voice made my stomach twist.
“What?”
“It’s Mr.
Moretti’s people.”
My fingers tightened around the counter.
“What do they want?”
Luis swallowed.
“They asked for you by name.”
For one terrible moment, I imagined being dragged into a black car.
I imagined Noah waiting at home for someone who would never return.
Then Luis handed me the phone.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice answered.
“Miss Bellamy.
My name is Gabriel Russo.
I work for Mr.
Moretti.”
I closed my eyes.
“Am I in trouble?”
A pause.
“No.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Mr.
Moretti would like to speak with you.”
“About the kiss?”
“About something else.”
I looked toward the door.
“Can it wait?”
Another pause.
“That depends, Miss Bellamy.”
“On what?”
“On whether you know a man named Daniel Bellamy.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Daniel Bellamy.
My father.
The man who had disappeared nineteen years earlier.
I gripped the phone.
“Why are you asking about him?”
Gabriel’s voice became careful.
“Because Mr.
Moretti believes you deserve to know what happened to him.”
My knees weakened.
For nineteen years, I’d believed my father had abandoned us.
I’d watched my mother cry herself to sleep.
I’d grown up hating the man who’d left her with two children and an empty bank account.
And now the most dangerous man in Chicago was asking about him.
“Where?”
I whispered.
“Where what?”
“Where does Mr.
Moretti want to meet?”
“Tomorrow morning.
Ten o’clock.
The Moretti Foundation building.”
I glanced at the five hundred dollars.
At Vanessa.
At Luis.
Then I thought of my father.
And of a question that had followed me since childhood.
Why weren’t we worth staying for?
“I’ll be there.”
When the call ended, Luis stared at me.
“Mara, what did they say?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because suddenly I remembered something.
When I’d introduced myself to Adrian Moretti, his fingers had stopped moving.
He had repeated my name.
May you like
He had looked at me like he recognized something.
And I realized that while I’d kissed a complete stranger, he might have known exactly who I was.
