She didn't mean to knock on his door. The rain made the decision for her.

It had started as a drizzle. By the time she realized how lost she was — wrong street, wrong neighborhood, phone dead in her pocket — it was coming down in sheets.

She ran for the nearest light she could see.

The door was heavy. The house behind it was enormous. And the man who opened it—

She recognized him in the way you recognize danger. Slowly at first. Then all at once.

The most feared mafia boss in the city stood in the doorway, looking at her the way men like him look at things that have just become complicated.

She was soaking wet. Hair plastered to her face. Shivering in a dress that was losing the fight against the cold. She opened her mouth to apologize — wrong door, wrong house, she'd leave im ...