Chapter One #2
His voice is low and deep. Rougher than I expect. Not unpolished, exactly. Just not as smooth as Lorenzo’s. He, too, has an accent, but it’s more pronounced. Not enough to interfere with the words, but enough to make every word feel deliberate.
A small, unwanted tingle starts at the base of my spine, and I fight off the urge to shiver.
“Mr. Conti,” I say, and I am grateful when my voice comes out steady.
His eyes stay on mine for one second longer than necessary. Then his thumb shifts against my hand.
Barely.
It’s probably nothing.
It doesn’t feel like nothing.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it because the man is far more compelling in person than his photographs suggested, and I’m just being ridiculous.
“We appreciate you coming,” he says.
“I appreciate the opportunity.”
His mouth moves slightly into something I can’t really call a smile, and alarm bells go off somewhere in my head.
Lorenzo’s voice pierces through the unprofessional thoughts quickly forming in my mind.
“Please, sit anywhere,” he says.
I quickly retract my hand and turn back to my associates, willing my face not to burn bright red.
I choose a seat facing the windows.
Ainsley sits to my left, Benjamin to my right. Lorenzo takes a seat across from Ainsley.
Mario takes the chair directly across from me.
Of course.
A woman enters quietly and offers coffee. We decline politely. Water is poured, then she leaves without a sound.
The door closes.
The room settles, and I’m grateful for the moment to get my head back where it belongs.
Mario leans back slightly, one hand resting on the table. No papers in front of him. No laptop. No pen.
Lorenzo has all three.
Interesting.
“Before we begin,” Lorenzo says, “we read through your preliminary proposal. It’s thorough.”
“Thank you.”
“I particularly liked the risk matrix for multi-sector acquisition.”
Benjamin gives the smallest nod. That section was his.
“The licensing review was also helpful,” Lorenzo continues, turning a page. “Especially your notes on hospitality, gaming-adjacent ventures, and private security contracting.”
Ainsley’s expression does not change, but I know she is listening carefully now.
“Those areas carry different regulatory obligations,” I say. “Individually, they are manageable. Combined, they create overlap. Overlap is where companies get sloppy.”
Mario’s gaze sharpens, and I see the first real flicker on his face.
“Do you think we are sloppy, Ms. Murray?”
Lorenzo glances at him, but says nothing.
A test, then.
I fold my hands on the table.
“No.”
Mario waits.
I continue. “If you were sloppy, we would not be here.”
Benjamin’s attention shifts to me, but he knows better than to interrupt.
Mario’s face remains unreadable. “Explain.”
“Sloppy companies don’t bring in outside counsel before there is a visible problem.
They react after someone has already filed a complaint, opened an investigation, leaked documents, or served a subpoena.
” I hold his gaze. “You’re not reacting.
You’re preparing. That makes you dangerous to your competitors, not sloppy. ”
There’s a beat of silence. Then Lorenzo laughs.
Mario does not laugh.
But something in his expression changes. It’s not warmth exactly.
More like interest.
“That is a generous interpretation,” he says.
“It’s a professional one.”
“And your unprofessional interpretation?”
Ainsley shifts beside me.
I don’t look away from Mario.
“My unprofessional interpretation is that you know exactly how much attention you’re beginning to attract, and you would rather pay me now because you know it would likely be a lot more expensive later.”
There’s another beat of silence in which we observe each other.
He gives me a small nod and, without words, hands the reins back to his brother.
I like it. I like direct men in business. They save time. They also usually reveal more than they intend because they mistake honesty for dominance.
I am not yet sure Mario Conti makes that mistake, but I’ll hold off on that judgment for a while.
Lorenzo sets his folder down. “Conti Enterprises has expanded significantly over the last eighteen months. Restaurants. Real estate holdings. Import and distribution contracts. A private logistics arm. Two hospitality acquisitions pending. A minority stake in a development project near the river.”
“All of which we reviewed from publicly available information,” I say. “There are gaps.”
“There will always be gaps in what’s available to the public,” Lorenzo says.
“Yes,” I agree, acutely aware that Mario’s eyes remain on me. “But the question is whether those gaps are harmless, proprietary, or dangerous.”
Ainsley opens her tablet. “From what we could evaluate, the largest concerns are vendor due diligence, beneficial ownership transparency, cross-entity contracting, employment classification, licensing, and possible money laundering exposure.”
Lorenzo’s expression stays pleasant. “That is a long list.”
“It’s a fairly normal list,” Ainsley says. “For a company expanding this quickly.”
“Normal,” Mario repeats.
She looks at him. “Normal does not mean minor.”
For the first time, Mario’s attention leaves me fully.
He studies Ainsley.
A lesser man might dislike being challenged by two women like this.
Especially a man who, I discovered, has only been in the United States for a couple of years and came from a very old world culture.
I have to admit that I was expecting it. Especially of men who recently came to the United States from an area steeped in those kinds of traditional values.
Mario Conti does not appear offended.
He appears to be deciding whether he approves.
“And you handle investigations?” he asks her.
“Internal investigations, remediation plans, policy audits, employee reporting structures, document retention, and regulatory response.”
“Efficient,” he says.
Benjamin steps in smoothly. “On my side, I would want to review existing corporate structure, vendor contracts, pending acquisitions, insurance coverage, and any licensing arrangements tied to the hospitality and logistics divisions.”
Lorenzo nods. “You’d have access to what you need.”
“All of what we need?” I ask.
The room goes still again.
Lorenzo turns to me.
Mario already has.
I lean back, matching Mario’s posture before I realize I’ve done it. “Because this kind of engagement only works if access is real. If we’re brought in to polish surfaces, we can do that, sure. But then you don’t really need us.”
What are you doing? Shut your mouth. Who cares if that’s all they need?
But I keep going. Like an idiot.
“If you want meaningful compliance infrastructure, I need accurate entity records, contract histories, licensing files, pending disputes, internal policies, vendor lists, leadership charts, and a clear understanding of who has authority to approve what.”
“And if some of that is confidential?” Lorenzo asks.
“I’m an attorney. Confidentiality comes with the territory.”
Mario’s gaze is steady. “And if some of it is complicated?”
The way he says it tells me he does not mean complicated.
There it is again. That sense that something’s lurking beneath the surface. A locked door in a beautiful office. A second set of books.
I should feel alarmed.
I do.
But alarm is not always a reason to leave. Sometimes it is a reason to read the contract more closely.
“Then I would expect you to tell me enough to keep the company protected,” I say carefully. “And I would tell you when silence becomes a liability.”
Mario’s eyes narrow slightly.
Lorenzo’s pen stops moving.
No one speaks.
That was the line, then.
I found it.
Good. Better to know where it is.
Mario rests his forearms on the table. The movement is small, but it brings him closer. His suit jacket pulls slightly across his shoulders.
I notice.
I wish I did not.
“You are direct,” he says.
“Direct saves billable hours.”
Lorenzo laughs again.
This time, even Benjamin smiles.
Mario’s mouth curves just barely.
It is not friendly, though.
It is so much worse.
It is attractive.
My entire body registers that fact before my brain has a chance to object.
Heat moves through me.
Not a blush, though.
Much lower than that.
A slow heat moves through my stomach and settles between my legs, tightening everything on the way down. My pulse beats hard enough that I feel it in my throat.
I fight my body not to shift in my chair, not to bring attention to the fact that my pulse is beating somewhere else as well. Somewhere beneath the table where it has no business pulsing.
I sit very still. It’s the only way to survive it.
I keep my fingers folded neatly on top of my portfolio and pretend I am not aware of the way my skirt pulls across my thighs or the way my nipples have tightened against the fabric of my bra.
Absolutely not.
Nope. No way. That is not happening.
Except it is.
Mario’s gaze stays on mine, and something about his expression tells me he sees more than he should.
Not the specifics.
God, I hope not the specifics.
But enough to know he has unsettled me.
That makes my spine straighten.
My brain finally kicks in and reminds me that he’s a potential client. A potential client that I need. Also, at least twenty years older than me, powerful, and possibly dangerous.
This is not a man to make mistakes with.
None of it helps.
In fact, it makes it worse.
Mario Conti’s eyes drop for one brief second to my mouth.
Then return to my eyes.
My pulse gives one hard kick. Well.
That is going to be a problem.
Lorenzo, either unaware or politely pretending to be, turns a page in his folder. “Your proposal recommends a phased audit.”
“Yes.” I pull myself back into the part of my mind that can survive almost anything if I keep it focused on the paperwork.
“Phase one is a full legal and compliance assessment. We identify risk, prioritize exposure, and create a remediation timeline. Phase two builds internal policies and reporting structures. Phase three integrates compliance into the expansion strategy rather than treating it as cleanup.”
“Timeline?” Mario asks.