A slow, genuine smile spread across my face.

Daniel flinched. He knew that smile. It was the one I used when a tax auditor tried to intimidate me, right before I dismantled their entire case.

“You’re absolutely correct, Elena,” I said, my voice carrying a terrifying warmth. “A woman who only knows how to weep into her pillow would be completely, pitifully useless on a night like tonight.”

I took one final step toward her, invading her personal space until I could smell that cheap jasmine mingling with the scent of her fear.

“But you see, my dear… I stopped crying exactly three weeks ago.”

For the very first time since I’d walked through those doors, the arrogant smirk fell completely off Elena Moretti’s face.