The first time she noticed the black SUV, it was idling across from her apartment building, one block over, windows tinted, lights off. It was the kind of vehicle you didn't question in a city like this — not unless you were paid to.
She wasn't.
Still, her steps slowed on instinct. She didn't stop walking, didn't look directly, but she let her keys shift between her fingers like a blade.
She reached her building's front door, buzzed herself in, and glanced over her shoulder just once.
The SUV was gone.
By morning, she'd convinced herself it had been nothing.
But then it showed up again.
This time on 9th Avenue, parked near the curb across from her office. She caught it in the reflection of a café window as she passed. It looked like any other government vehicle, clean and understated — except it hadn't been there yesterday. Or the day before.
She stepped inside the lobby of Navarro Corp, her heels clacking on the tile as she moved past security. The guard didn't even glance up from his phone. No one ever did.
By the time she reached the elevator, her pulse had evened out. But she still hit the button for the 23rd floor with a little more pressure than usual.
Inside the elevator, she leaned against the mirrored wall and told herself three things:
1. She had nothing to hide.
2. This wasn't her first shadow.
3. Luca Romano didn't scare her.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped out.
And someone bumped into her — hard.
"Shit, sorry—" a male voice muttered, brushing past.
She spun automatically, one hand on her bag — but he was already halfway down the hallway, hoodie up, moving fast.
Too fast for someone just late to a meeting.
"Miss Reyes?" her assistant chirped from behind the desk. "Someone dropped this off for you. Said you signed for it, but…"
Lina turned slowly.
A matte black box sat on her desk. Ribboned. Heavy.
No label. No sender.
She stared at it for a long second, then said — too quietly — "I didn't sign anything."
.....
"Are you sure?" her assistant asked, wrinkling her nose. "He said you did. Swore it. I even checked your name on the sheet—"
"I never left the floor," Lina said flatly.
She moved around her desk and studied the box without touching it. It was long, maybe sixteen inches. Slightly chilled to the touch, like it had been stored in a car's trunk. The ribbon was black silk, tied with surgical precision.
Her name wasn't written anywhere on it.
But it was meant for her.
She unwrapped the bow, every movement slow and deliberate, aware of her assistant's gaze still hovering like perfume in the air. The lid came off in a hush.
Inside: a bed of dark velvet, and on it, a spray of white lilies.
Her stomach turned.
She hated lilies. Always had. They reminded her of funerals — her brother's especially. Cold petals. Sweet rot. Mourning dresses too big for her shoulders.
Beneath the flowers was a cream card, thick as a business envelope. Elegant script — handwritten.
I don't like secrets.
No signature. No logo. No instructions.
Just a threat in beautiful ink.
Lina closed the box calmly, carefully, like it might explode.
"Thanks," she said to her assistant, who blinked at her tone and wisely said nothing else.
She carried the box down the hallway toward Navarro Jr.'s private office, heels sharp on tile, expression cool enough to chill the room. A few staffers glanced up as she passed. One even stood — then thought better of it and sat back down.
She didn't knock.
She never knocked.
Navarro Jr. looked up from his phone with a frown. "You're interrupting."
She dropped the box onto his desk.
"Someone sent me flowers," she said. "No name. No delivery tag. No one remembers who brought it up. And I don't like being made into a target by association."
Navarro arched an eyebrow, unconcerned. "They're just flowers."
"With a note."
He opened the box, stared at the lilies. Read the card. Then shrugged.
"Creepy, sure. But harmless. Maybe you've got a secret admirer."
"Romano," she said.
That made him look up.
"What?"
"I think it's from Romano. He's been—"
"Jesus, Lina." Navarro leaned back, exasperated. "You talked to the man once. Now you think he's stalking you?"
"I don't think. I know."
"And what? You want me to threaten him? Send him a warning? Please. The man owns half the damn NYPD."
"I want you to take it seriously."
"I want you to calm down," he snapped. "You're a secretary. You take notes and schedule meetings. You don't go starting mafia drama over flowers."
Lina stared at him.
Then she picked up the box, calmly, and walked out.
She didn't slam the door. She didn't curse.
But her pulse was a live wire.
Because this wasn't over.
And Luca Romano hadn't even started yet.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual.
Lina held the box of lilies tight against her side, like it might bite. Her reflection in the chrome walls stared back — expression carved from steel. She didn't look shaken. She never looked shaken.
But her jaw ached from how hard she was clenching it.
The doors opened to the underground parking level — Navarro Jr.'s private floor. His armored Maybach idled near the ramp. Felix stood beside it, scrolling on his phone, pretending not to notice her.
She marched straight toward Navarro, who stood under one of the industrial lights, cigarette in hand, sunglasses still on like they were part of his skull.
He looked up when he heard her heels.
"Oh good," he said. "You brought the funeral centerpiece."
Lina dropped the box onto the hood of the car, the soft thud echoing off concrete. "I need you to stop pretending this isn't serious."
Navarro exhaled a plume of smoke. "Lina. You're not his type."
"That's not what this is about."
"Oh, come on. You think Romano is playing some romantic game with you? The man burns cities for fun. He doesn't send flowers to secretaries."
"Then what does he send?" she asked, voice tight. "Because next time, it might be a message with bullets."
"God, you are dramatic today."
"He's watching me."
"He watches everyone."
"No," she said, stepping closer. "He's watching me. And you know why."
Navarro said nothing for a beat.
Then: "You don't know what you're talking about."
She folded her arms. "Then explain it."