Chapter Four #2
“But it is also not to protect you from things you need to confront.”
I lean back in the chair.
There are men who would punish her for that. There are men who would laugh. There are men who would dismiss her because she is young and beautiful, and sitting across from power she cannot yet measure.
I am not those men.
“I understand,” I say.
Her face gives nothing away.
But I see the smallest release of tension in her shoulders.
She expected resistance. She was ready for it.
I did not give it to her.
That unsettles her more.
Before she can ask another question, there is a knock at the door.
Her gaze cuts to it.
A young man in a Conti IT badge stands there with a tablet held against his chest. He looks from Victoria to me and immediately understands he has interrupted something he would prefer not to have interrupted.
“Sorry, Mr. Conti. Ms. Murray. I was told to help with system access.”
“You can come back,” I say.
Victoria says, “No, it’s fine.”
We speak at the same time.
The young man freezes.
Victoria looks at me.
I look at her.
A beat passes.
Then she turns to him. “I do need access.”
The technician steps inside carefully.
I stand.
Victoria stands too. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Conti. I can send a follow-up request through Lorenzo for anything else.”
“You can send it to me. My card is in your inbox.”
She blinks once, then gives me a tight smile. “Then I’ll send follow-up questions directly.”
“Do that,” I say. “Have a productive morning, Ms. Murray.”
Her voice is composed. “You too, Mr. Conti.”
I leave before I do something foolish, like stay.
The door closes behind me.
Lorenzo is standing down the hall with a folder in one hand and an expression that tells me he has been waiting just long enough to be irritating.
“Subtle,” he says in Italian.
I walk past him. “Get back to work.”
“I am working.”
“No. You are entertaining yourself.”
“It is possible to do both.”
I stop and look at him.
He smiles smugly.
For a brother I have not yet killed, Lorenzo has always been comfortable with danger.
“You told me she asked for an interview.”
“You were in there quickly,” he says.
“I was available.”
“Of course.”
I continue down the hall.
He falls into step beside me.
“She is very professional,” he says.
I do not answer.
“And very sharp.”
“Yes.”
“And young.”
That stops me.
I turn my head toward him slowly.
Lorenzo’s expression remains mild, but his eyes are serious now.
“I know how old she is,” I say.
“I assumed.”
“Then do not say things only to hear yourself speak.”
He exhales through his nose. “Mario.”
There is warning in his voice.
I have heard it from him before. Not often. Lorenzo knows better than most when to press and when to hold his silence.
“She is here to do a job,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And I brought her here because she can do it.”
“I believe that.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.”
“That is not true, but we can pretend for now.”
I should be angry.
Instead, I almost smile.
It is a bad habit, allowing Lorenzo more room than I allow most men. But then, he is not most men. He is my brother.
And he knows me too well.
I continue walking.
He lets the subject drop, which means he will return to it later when it annoys me more.
“Ricardo met her,” he says.
I simply wait for whatever he’s going to say next.
“He liked her.”
We reach my office. Lorenzo stops outside.
I turn to him. “Make sure she has what she needs.”
“She will.”
“But not too much.”
His smile is thin. “Of course.”
“Lorenzo.”
He lifts a brow.
“She is not to be toyed with.”
Something changes in his expression.
“I wasn’t planning to toy with her.”
“I am not only speaking to you.”
His eyes hold mine.
He understands then.
“I’ll make sure Ricardo behaves,” he says. “And Diego.”
I open my office door.
Before I step inside, I glance once down the hall.
I cannot see Victoria’s office from here.
That was the point.
I still know exactly where she is.
I step into my office and close the door.
My desk is already lined with the morning’s work.
Acquisition updates. Security reports. A message from Tomasso sent at two in the morning telling me Claire did not like the restaurant he took her to, a favorite of his, which he considered an unforgivable character flaw.
A shorter message from Matteo sent at seven with a link to an article about postwar economic policy I did not ask for and will probably read anyway.
My sons.
My brothers.
My company.
My city.
All of it requiring attention.
Yet when I sit, I do not reach for any of it.
I open my email instead.
Victoria Murray’s name sits near the top of my sent folder.
I close the folder.
Then open the security feed for the thirty-second floor.
Not her office.
The corridor.
There is a difference.
The screen shows the hallway outside her door. The technician leaves after several minutes, walking quickly, looking relieved. A moment later, Victoria appears in the doorway.
She is alone.
She looks down the corridor in the direction I left.
For a breath, she stands there, one hand resting on the doorframe, face thoughtful.
Then she shakes her head once, as if irritated with herself, and goes back inside.
My mouth curves.
Definitely a problem.
I close the feed.
Then I pick up the first file on my desk and force myself to work.