Enzo
The docks were chaotic, from the middle of the night into the early morning. It never stopped. It was no wonder things got lost here.
Men walked around with clipboards, counting pallets.
More were running from place to place, yelling instructions across the noise.
Forklifts tried to organize the uneven stacks, zipping from one side of the warehouse to the other, leaving the diesel fumes in their wake.
Metal clanged on metal, a deafening sound if I were closer to the ships that were unloading. Seagulls cawed overhead.
“I want you to be clear. Are you saying you’ve lost another pallet?” I narrowed my eyes at the man who held a clipboard in front of his face, like he was hoping to use it as a shield.
I stepped closer, narrowly missing the small puddle that separated us.
“Yes,” the man answered—his name, Drew, stitched across his overalls.
“The first one fell off one of the boat. It was a freak accident. The second arrived, but it’s,” he turned, throwing his hands around, “somewhere here. I just don’t know where.
Other shipments came in at the same time, and it was a bit chaotic. ”
Anger rose fast in me. I clenched my jaw, fists tightening as I fought the urge to yank the man by his collar and hang him over the edge of the docks with weights tied to his feet.
Drew took a step back, gripping the clipboard so tight his knuckles turned white.
Good. Let him be afraid. It would serve us both for him to remember who I was and what I was capable of when anyone decided to cross me.
Fuck, I wasn’t in the mood for nonsense like this. I had been up for nearly thirty hours, and I still had the most important part of my day to handle. The last thing I needed was incompetence at the docks, where everything ran smoothly, mostly.
“Find it,” I snarled. I didn’t add or else because it was implied. Drew knew he had screwed up and that no matter what, the Cosa Nostra’s shipments took precedence over anything else that came through these docks.
A glance at my watch told me I was running behind, but if I sped, I’d make it to my next appointment in time.
“You have until the end of the day to find that pallet.” I walked away, twirling my family's signet ring, the one that noted me as their leader, as I went.
My eyes burned with exhaustion. The lack of sleep was burrowing in my skin, and I was losing momentum.
Rubbing the irritation away, I picked up my pace.
One more thing to do—one I had to do—or I knew, despite how hard I'd try, I wouldn't find sleep at all.
The blacked-out SUV waited for me, engine running. After hopping into the driver's seat, I took off, racing down the street.
Luckily, there was no traffic, and I got to my next appointment—if I could even call it that. Still, after nearly a year of doing it, I’d never missed a morning.
Slipping into the coffee shop, I got a cappuccino, even though I needed sleep, not caffeine, and waited. Time ticked by, and my anxiety rose.
What was the holdup? Was there something wrong? No one had called to tell me there was an issue, so where were they?
I got to my feet, ready to go and find out what was going on when they appeared, running down the street. Well, one was trying to run, the other attempting to skip a few feet behind her.
Everything loosened in my chest. I sat back, watching Serena Montgomery, exasperated, motioning to her daughter Harper to hurry up. Every time Harper missed a skip, she walked back three steps and started over again.
Harper had a fancy down the middle of her back and her school uniform on. Harper hated combing her hair, which was probably why they were running late. I once walked in on Serena trying to brush Harper’s hair and thought I had taken a wrong turn into a WWE wrestling match.
Serena was in workout clothes. Her long blonde hair was up in a ponytail, swaying side to side as she rushed after her daughter. She moved past a group of moms who were dressed similarly to Serena, but she didn’t pay them any mind.
The moment I met Serena—when she rolled her eyes, pushed back, and showed her loyalty to Adrienne by refusing to work with Marcello even after I’d brought a suitcase of cash—I knew I was done for.
She told me ‘no’ two more times, all while making snide remarks about my suit. I would’ve taken personal offense had I not noticed the glint in her eye that dared me to argue with her. It was like she enjoyed poking the bear, and I found it fun to see what she would say to insult me.
It wasn’t until I handed her a note from Marcello that she caved. I had instructed him to write it, begging for her help and listing what he needed.
I was cautious by nature, always thinking through all scenarios before acting, and I was especially so with Serena.
Watching Serena, learning about her favorite coffee or fabric store, felt like I was peeling back the layers of who she was.
The deciding factor for me was when I watched her and Harper together.
Being a single parent was hard, but somehow Serena didn’t make it seem that way.
At least not to Harper. Harper had a big personality, one that Serena encouraged.
The way she was with Harper made her the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
That protective urge that always came when I thought about the two of them surged to the surface. It was becoming harder every day not to whisk them away to the life they deserved.
I wanted to be part of their circle, included in their jokes, a part of their routines. It was almost time to make my move, and I had no doubt that the calculated patience I’d been fostering was going to pay off.
Her ex-husband was a problem, though. At some point, when the time was right, I’d handle him.
Harper jumped into Serena’s arms, hugging and kissing her. They laughed, throwing their heads back, and a rush of wistfulness hit me.
There was so much joy and love in that moment, I was happy to be a bystander and witness it.
That was what I wanted. I wanted to walk down the street holding Harper’s and Serena’s hands in each of mine, doing school drop-offs, and taking care of them.
Then, at night, I’d come home, and they’d be there. My girls.
Soon enough, I’d have that. It had been nearly a year since Marcello left, and I’d taken control of New York. Everything was almost in place, from the men to the company.
I stood, leaving the little cafe, and followed Serena, keeping my distance so she wouldn't spot me, as she made her way to the gym. Once I knew she was there safe, I came back to my car and drove home.
As COO of Panorama, I handled operations for the entire company. I helped put the pieces together, ensuring everything fit like a puzzle, and when changes were needed, I determined how to make them.
That also meant handling it when people did stupid shit.
Which was why I had to sit in this suffocating office, listening to team leads argue about something I couldn’t remember because their arguing had devolved well past work issues into discreet digs at each other.
The human resources woman sat in the corner, patiently waiting for a chance to jump in and de-escalate the situation.
I had no such patience. “Stop,” I said loud and firm.
“Let’s pretend I’m not a complete idiot and don’t hear office gossip.
You,” I said, turning to the man. I was so tired I couldn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter.
“You cannot take personal matters and emotions out in the workplace. She said no. That is within her rights. For you to start nitpicking everything she does on every project when her work is exceptional has moved to harassment.”
It was a tale as old as time. An older man hits on a young, pretty woman in the workplace, and when she says no he starts making her life hell. That wasn’t something I’d allow, and I’d created strong company policies that left no room for misinterpretation.
Normally, I wouldn’t be invested in day-to-day workings like this, but this was different. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and there would be a lot of eyes on us if this situation wasn’t handled swiftly and correctly.
We didn’t suffer fools, in Panorama or the Cosa Nostra.
I handed him the termination letter, unwilling to listen to him fight for his job. The head of Human Resources took over and escorted him out.
Two minutes later, my door opened again, and a young woman walked in.
I gave her a moment to come to terms with what happened and said, “This isn’t your fault.
It’s his.” I was going to find that idiot and make him scared to look at another woman again, not that she needed to know that.
“I wish you had spoken up sooner, but I understand why you didn’t.
If he approaches you again, whether it's a week from now or years later, I want to know so I can handle it for you.”
She smiled and nodded, but didn’t say anything, and walked out.
Firing him was the acceptable response for some, maybe even going as far as blacklisting him, which I’d do as well. I didn’t care what people would accept, because most weren’t willing to do what needed to be done when men abuse their power and cross lines.
I had no more energy to deal with people, so I texted one of my men, ordering them to have a conversation with the fired man, off the books, and sent another to get the car ready.
The two kids—barely nineteen, hardly adults—pulled the car around, tripping over themselves to open the door.
“Don’t bother me unless you have to,” I said, closing my eyes and thinking of Serena.
Of her smile.
The way she hummed pop songs while she worked when she thought she was alone.
What kind of bad joke she might tell.
What sounds she’d make when I finally had her under me, moaning for me, with my hands tangled in her hair.
With thoughts of Serena, my imagination running wild, I dozed off.