“Queens?” he said aloud as he read the text message. “What the hell is she doing in Queens?”
He promised himself he would give her a few days to cool off, but he didn’t think he could last any longer. What had transpired two days ago at the precinct haunted him, and each time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her face. Guilt and his angry inner wolf made him want to break his promise.
Grabbing his coat, he headed out to the hallway and then ran into Reyes, who was making his usual rounds around the townhouse.
He glanced at the coat in his hands. “Are we going somewhere, sir?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Queens.”
“I’ll get the car.”
And so soon, they were on their way. Reyes got in touch with his contact to get the exact location where Sofia went. Traffic was light, and eventually they reached their destination, the car stopping in front of a restaurant on Ditmars Boulevard in Astoria. The blue awning that wrapped around the corner said “Giorgios’s Taverna.”
“Is this the place?”
“That’s what he said,” Reyes answered.
What was she doing here? He supposed she could be having dinner, but there were lots of restaurants in Manhattan. She could be on a date, a dark voice in his head said.
“Was she alone?”
“As far as he could tell.”
Maybe she met up with her date here. A first date, maybe? That’s one reason why she would want to go somewhere far from her house. Maybe she didn’t know this guy. Perhaps they met on some hookup app. A growl ripped from his throat, and he didn’t realize how loud it was until Reyes’s head snapped back toward him.
“Sir?” His expression was cautious.
“Wait here,” he told Reyes as he exited the car. On the outside wall was a painted mural depicting white stone buildings topped with blue domes on a hillside overlooking the sea. He walked around to the side where the entrance was covered by an enclosed makeshift patio. There was a line of people outside, huddled under the heat lamps. Sofia wasn’t out there, and he ignored their annoyed looks when he headed inside.
The interior was surprisingly spacious with white walls and wooden beams. One wall featured a similar mural, while the rest had various photos and newspapers clipping. The one right by the entrance featured a young man in a chef’s hat next to a very famous American actress. He recalled some story about her having an affair with a Greek billionaire and living on his yacht before the paparazzi discovered them. It was a huge scandal because the billionaire divorced his wife to marry her.
“Can I help you?”
He turned his head and saw an old man carrying a large tray filled with dirty dishes. “I’m looking for someone.”
“We’re very busy right now,” he said impatiently. “Do you have a reservation?”
Glancing around, he saw that all the tables were full, and two waitresses were running around, filling glasses as the diners looked around annoyingly. If he hadn’t worked in his mother’s family’s restaurant, Muccino’s, for three summers straight, he wouldn’t have recognized how frantic and tense the atmosphere was inside. In a dining room this size on a Saturday night, there should be at least four wait staff serving, and they only had two. They were obviously having a bad night. “I don’t want to take up your time. I just—”
He stopped short when he saw a flash of dark hair and cat-like graceful movements from the corner of his eye. When he realized who it was, he mentally slapped himself on the forehead for not recognizing her immediately.
Sofia looked different tonight, with her mahogany hair pulled up into a sleek high ponytail, plus she was wearing more makeup. Instead of her usual dark suit jacket and trousers, she was wearing a crisp white shirt and a black skirt that showed off her slim calves. Truly, the outfit shouldn’t have affected him, but seeing her in something so different arrested him. She was carrying a tray laden with food and was placing plates on a table with four diners. What the hell was she doing working here? Surely she made enough money as a detective?
“Hey!” The old man slammed the tray on the hostess’s station, the dishes inside clattering loudly. “If you don’t have a reservation, then you can wait outside or find somewhere else to go.”
“I’m sorry, I just need to talk to Sofia.”
A bushy white brow raised. “Sofia? She’s busy. We. Are. All. Busy.” He emphasized his words by slamming the tray up and down.
He felt a familiar presence behind him and turned his head.
“Pappoús? What’s going on—you!” Sofia hissed when their eyes met. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Is this your friend, Sofia? He says he wants to talk to you.”
“Friend?” She glared at Lucas. “Not at all, Pappoús.”
“Then what is he doing here?”
“Leaving,” she declared.
“Sofia, please,” he began.
“It’s one thing for you to gloat when I’m at the precinct, but I won’t allow it here.” Anger blazed in her eyes, and fucking hell, she looked even more beautiful. Like an avenging Goddess coming down from heaven.
“I’m not here to gloat.”
“Then why are you here?” she shot back.
“I’m here to apologize.”
That seemed to shock her into silence.
“Sofia, I—”
“Papa! Sofia!” another voice called frantically. “What’s going on out there?” A man’s head was peeking through the small window from the kitchen where food was passed to the waitstaff. “Stop dawdling, the food’s getting cold, and the dishes are piling up!”
“Sorry, Dad!”
