The chandeliers inside Bellissimo Steakhouse glowed like captured sunlight.
Crystal glasses shimmered against white tablecloths. Candles burned beside elaborate arrangements of white roses, and the Chicago skyline stretched across the enormous windows beyond the dining room.
Everything about the restaurant suggested elegance.
Until Dominic Vale opened his mouth.
“Go ahead, sweetheart. Ask him if he wants crayons.”
The remark was loud enough to make several diners turn.
Hannah Mercer stopped beside the table.
She was twenty-eight, with dark brown hair arranged in a loose, messy updo. Her white button-up shirt was neatly tucked beneath a fitted black vest and black apron.
She had worked in expensive restaurants long enough to recognize arrogance.
But this was something uglier.
Dominic Vale stood behind his son's chair, one tattooed hand resting against the expensive black leather.
At fifty-eight, Dominic was still physically imposing. Thick dark hair, a short beard, powerful shoulders, and black tattoos disappearing beneath the open collar of his tailored suit.
Two bodyguards stood several feet behind him.
He was one of Chicago's most notorious organized-crime figures, although many of his businesses operated through legitimate investment companies.
People lowered their voices when he entered a room.
She looked toward the young man seated at the table.
Caleb Vale was twenty-seven.
Handsome, with thick wavy dark brown hair and intelligent brown eyes, he wore a sharp black suit over a black dress shirt.
He sat quietly, his hands resting beside the menu.
His expression was controlled.
But Hannah noticed something Dominic apparently hadn't.
Caleb had understood the insult.
He had watched his father's face.
He knew exactly when the room began laughing.
Hannah turned toward Dominic.
“Actually, I know sign language.”
The mafia boss blinked.
Hannah didn't repeat herself.
Instead, she moved slightly so Caleb could clearly see her hands and face.
She signed a greeting in American Sign Language.
Then asked whether he'd like to order.
Caleb stared at her.
For one brief second, he looked almost suspicious.
Then his face changed.
And finally, a genuine smile.
His hands rose immediately.
He signed fluently.
Hannah's smile widened.
“Ribeye. Medium rare. And a quieter father.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Dominic leaned forward.
“What is he doing?”
Hannah looked toward Caleb.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Would you like me to interpret that last part?”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“What did he say?”
Hannah turned toward him.
“Your son has a lot to tell you.”
The words seemed to offend Dominic more than the silence.
“Then tell me.”
Hannah remained calm.
“Mr. Vale, Caleb can communicate directly. I won't share everything he says without his permission.”
Dominic stared.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Then you know I don't appreciate being lectured by restaurant staff.”
Hannah felt her pulse quicken.
But her expression remained steady.
“I'm here to take your order respectfully. That includes your son's order.”
Across the table, Caleb was watching her.
His smile had faded.
Not because he was offended by Hannah.
Because he had seen this exchange happen too many times.
Different restaurants.
Different doctors' offices.
Different family gatherings.
His father talked over him.
Answered questions for him.
Dismissed him as though deafness had stolen his intelligence along with his hearing.
Caleb had stopped expecting strangers to intervene.
Now this waitress was doing something simpler.
She was looking at him.
Asking him questions.
Waiting for his answers.
Dominic folded his arms.