The surveillance turned out to be the least of their problems.
"Boss," Elena said, her voice tight with tension as she entered Dante's office. "We have a situation."
"The watchers?"
"Dealt with. Government contractors, nothing we can't handle." Elena's expression was grim. "But we have a bigger problem."
"Which is?"
"Your father is here."
The silence that followed was deafening. Serena looked up from the intelligence reports she'd been reviewing, her hand instinctively moving to her still-flat stomach.
"My father is dead," Dante said finally, his voice carefully controlled.
"Apparently not." Elena placed a photograph on the desk. "This was taken an hour ago at the Meridian Hotel. He's requesting a meeting."
Serena studied the photograph. The man in it was older, grayer, but unmist
