Page 15 of Mario
I keep my expression calm through sheer force of will. “My direct line is on there.”
“We’ll have the revisions sent within the hour.”
He says it as if the matter is already settled. Like somewhere outside this room, someone is about to have a very difficult afternoon because Mario Conti has decided I will receive those revisions within the hour.
I should not enjoy that.
I really should not.
“Good.” I slide my portfolio strap over my shoulder. “Once we receive them, I’ll review and respond.”
“This was productive,” Lorenzo says.
“It was,” I agree. “Thank you for your time.”
He shakes Benjamin’s hand, then Ainsley’s, then mine.
Mario waits.
I turn to him last.
That is a mistake.
He extends his hand again.
I take it.
The contact is no longer surprising, which makes it worse. His hand closes around mine with the same measured pressure as before, but this time I feel the brief brush of his thumb along the side of my hand.
So slight it could be unintentional.
He’s not a man who does anything unintentionally.
My breath stays even through sheer professional discipline.
“I look forward to working with you, Ms. Murray,” he says.
“Likewise, Mr. Conti. We appreciate the opportunity.”
Our hands part, and once again, I feel it acutely.
Lorenzo walks us to the door himself. The security escort is waiting in the hall when the doors open.
We step out of the conference room, and I resist the urge to look back.
I make it three steps and fail.
Mario is still standing near the table, one hand in his pocket, his attention fixed on me.
The doors close before I can decide what to do with that.
The hallway is too quiet.
The elevator ride down is worse.
No one speaks until we’re on the other side of the revolving doors and on the busy street.
Then Benjamin says, “Well.”
