Page 2 of King of Manhattan

I grin, feeling more alive than I have in months. "Lead the way."

As we move towards a quieter corner of the room, I catch Davenport's flabbergasted expression out of the corner of my eye. I shoot him a look that has him scurrying away like the rat he is.

Emily doesn't miss this exchange. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Mr. Russo," she says quietly.

"Vince," I remind her. "And I have no doubt you can handle yourself, Emily. Consider it a... professional courtesy."

She raises an eyebrow. "Professional? And what profession would that be?"

For a moment, I consider telling her. Laying all my cards on the table and seeing how she reacts. But something holds me back. Maybe it's the way she's looking at me – curious, interested, but without the fear or awe I'm used to seeing. For once, I don't want to be Vincent Russo, the King of Manhattan's underworld. I just want to be a man, talking to a beautiful woman about things that matter to her.

"Let's just say I control several businesses," I reply smoothly. "Now, you were saying something about systemic issues?"

Emily studies me for a moment longer, then nods, apparently deciding to let it go for now. As she launches into an impassioned explanation of her work, her eyes lighting up with conviction, I find myself captivated. Not just by her beauty – though she's stunning, with curves that make my fists clench – but by her mind, her fire.

For the first time in years, I feel a spark of something in my chest. Interest. Attraction. Something else that’s unfamiliar, something I can’t place. I feel more alive than I have in a long time. And I need to see more of this girl. A lot more.

Chapter 2

Emily

I can't get him out of my head.

It's been three days since the charity gala. As soon as I got in the cab to head home that night I Googled him. There was suspiciously little about him that I could find, which only makes me more curious. Only a few articles about him being a billionaire businessman with possible ties to some unsavory characters. But Vincent Russo's dark eyes and intoxicating smile keep invading my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. Like now, when I'm supposed to be focused on ordering my much-needed morning coffee.

"Large almond milk latte with a pump of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon, please," I tell the barista, stifling a yawn. I was up late working on a case, and the lack of sleep is catching up with me.

"And an espresso, please," a familiar deep voice says behind me, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Along with whatever pastry the lady would like."

I turn and look up, startled, to find Vincent Russo standing there, looking unfairly put-together in a crisp suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent. His lips quirk up in a small smile as our eyes meet.

"Mr. Russo," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "What a coincidence."

"Vince," he corrects, just as he did at the gala. "And is it a coincidence? Or fate?"

I can't help but roll my eyes, even as I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I wasn't aware fate was interested in my coffee habits."

"Fate works in mysterious ways, Ms. Bennett," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Emily," I counter, deciding two can play at this game. "But I don't need you to buy my coffee, Vince. I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own caffeine addiction."

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise. Consider it a thank you for the stimulating conversation the other night."

I raise an eyebrow. "Stimulating?”

"Exactly," he grins, sending a thrill shooting straight to my core as he blatantly looks me up and down. "That’s exactly the word to describe you."

I feel my cheeks redden but I’m saved by the barista calling our orders. As we move to the pick-up counter, I can't help but notice how Vince effortlessly commands the space around him. It's not just his imposing physical presence – though that certainly doesn't hurt – but an aura of confidence that seems to radiate from him.

"So," Vince says as we collect our drinks, "what brings New York's fiercest pro-bono lawyer to this particular coffee shop at this early hour?"

I take a sip of my latte, savoring the sweet warmth that tastes like Fall. "Oh, you know, just plotting to overthrow the patriarchy and dismantle systemic oppression. The usual Tuesday morning stuff."

Vince's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. "Sounds exhausting. No wonder you need the caffeine."

"All in a day's work," I shrug. "What about you? Shouldn't you be off... I don't know, buying small countries or whatever it is billionaires do in their spare time?"

He chuckles. "I prefer to start small. Maybe just a private island or two before lunch."

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