1. Adriano #2
A glass is still drying beside the sink. There’s a smear of strawberry on the counter I missed, so I grab a cloth and wipe it clean. I don’t need Isabella’s mom thinking I can’t cope.
Isabella’s mother arrives exactly ten minutes later.
On time. Punctuality is something I appreciate.
I open the door before she knocks.
She takes in the space in a single pass—quick, quiet, assessing—before stepping inside.
“You didn’t have to come this early,” I say.
“I prefer it,” she replies. “Gives me time to understand things before she gets back. That way I can go buy what we need to bake.”
That’s the right answer. I like the fact she won’t shove Letty in front of the TV but will teach her something meaningful.
I walk her through the kitchen, the routine, the structure. What Letty eats. What she avoids. What matters and what doesn’t.
“The green cup is for milk,” I say. “Never water.”
She glances at the cupboard. “Water goes in?”
“The yellow one.”
“Of course.”
There’s humor in her voice. Not judgment.
I continue. “Snack after preschool. No bananas unless she asks. She’ll say she wants one because she likes the idea of them. She doesn’t like the texture.”
“Noted.”
“If she gets quiet, she’s either tired or hiding something.”
“What kind of something?”
“Stolen cookies usually.”
That makes her smile.
I don’t.
“She can have one cartoon before dinner. Not two. She’ll negotiate.”
“I raised Isabella,” she says. “I know about negotiation.”
That earns a slight nod.
She’s competent, calm. She’s family and the closest thing Letty has to a grandmother figure.
It will suffice nicely until Friday.
“I’ll be back by six,” I say, grabbing my keys.
“She’ll be fine.”
I nod once. I believe her.
That’s not something I do easily. Some would call that growth.
By the time I reach the car, my sleeves are still rolled.
I fix that before I start the engine.
One cuff, then the other, buttoned, straight.
The fabric settles against my wrists, familiar.
By the time I reach the office, everything unnecessary has already been set aside.
Nico is mid-call when I walk in, standing by the window, voice low, controlled, the kind that doesn’t carry—but doesn’t need to. Matteo is where he shouldn’t be—leaning back in a chair, feet on the edge of the conference table, phone balanced in one hand.
“Morning,” Matteo says. “You look like you’ve already solved something and hated everyone involved.”
“Get your feet off the table.”
He grins, but does it.
Nico ends the call and turns. His eyes move over me once, checking I’m OK. Not intrusive, rather a big brother habit.
“Everything good at home? Letty ok?”
“Yes. All good. Mrs. Romano came early. They’re going to bake.”
“Lucky bastard. Elena Romano is an awesome baker.”
Matteo grumbles, only slightly put out that she’s toppled him off the top spot of family food expert.
I smirk at Matteo. “She’s single.”
Matteo grins as he nods along. “Yeah, and Italian.”
“Will you two pack that shit in? My mother-in-law is not about to be your next conquest, Matteo. Eugh. No. Fuck, no. Plus, I have a feeling Rossi will string you up by your balls if you even wink in her direction.”
Now it’s Nico who looks smug as Matteo winces.
But true to form, my baby brother soon recovers. “Oh, well, I guess the single ladies of New York can rest easy.”
“Any chance we can get back to work now? You know, the reason we come here,” I say, wrangling the conversation back to the topic.
That’s enough.
We sit around the table and get to it.
Numbers first. Always.
Then contracts.
Then the vendor issue that has been sitting on my desk since Friday afternoon because people like to send problems at four fifty-eight and pretend it isn’t deliberate.
Matteo flips through the report too quickly. “They’ll fold if we push.”
Nico leans back. “Not today.”
“They don’t need to,” I say.
Both of them look at me.
I turn the page and slide the second contract toward Nico. “They’re posturing. The delay clause works in our favor after close of business tomorrow. If we press now, we give them grounds to renegotiate.”
Matteo sighs. “You make extortion sound like accounting.”
“It usually is.”
Nico’s mouth twitches.
I tap the margin. “Forty-eight hours. No calls. No pressure. Let them overplay it.”
“They might not,” Matteo says.
“They will.”
He studies my face, then lifts both hands. “Fine. Boring legal chess it is.”
“Effective legal chess,” I correct.
“Still boring.”
Nico signs the page and passes it back. “We wait.”
Decision made.
The meeting moves on.
There are acquisition updates, compliance reviews, staffing changes at one of the hotels, and a minor issue with a councilman who has mistaken access for influence.
That one takes less than three minutes.
“No,” I say.
Matteo looks up. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Nico doesn’t ask for more. He knows when I mean it, and though he’s the oldest, this is where I shine.
My phone lights up once during the next report.
A message from Isabella.
Mom says Letty lectured her about blue crayons for eleven minutes. You owe her wine.
I read it twice.
Then set the phone face down with a smile.
Later, between meetings, Nico closes the file in front of him. “Isabella’s mother can’t stay past the week.”
“I know. I’ve arranged for Casey to start next week.”
His eyebrows rise. “I thought you didn’t want Casey to be Letty’s nanny. What was it you said, too mouthy, too loud?”
I sigh and run my hands through my hair; it needs a cut. “And as Isabella pointed out, she’s extremely qualified and highly recommended.”
“When does she get here?”
“Friday.”
Four days.
Enough time to verify, review, replace if necessary. “I just hope it isn’t another mistake. Letty needs stability.”
Nico gives me a look. “Isabella vouched for her, and for the record, I like her. I wouldn’t let anyone near my niece if I didn’t trust her, and neither would Isabella.”
Their opinion carries a lot of weight. “I know. I still want to run some final checks.”
Matteo snorts. “Are you hiring a nanny or appointing her to the Supreme Court?”
I look at him. “You know what happened last time I wasn’t thorough.”
Sympathy I hate tightens his brow. “Not your fault, Adi.”
He’s wrong. It absolutely was my fault. My damn nanny was blackmailed by a man set on destroying our family, and although Letty was never hurt or in real danger, it was an unacceptable mistake. And one I won’t make again. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He smiles, though it’s strained now. “But I know you, and I know it involves background checks up the wazoo.”
Nico leans back, watching us with the faintest trace of amusement. “She’s Isabella’s friend.”