Page 58 of Mario
I turn, a bottle of amaretto and two glasses in my hands.
"A family tradition," I say, holding up the bottle. "Lorenzo's favorite. For difficult conversations. Or for celebrations." I give her a small, humorless smile. "And sometimes, for both."
I pour a small amount into each glass. The sweet, almond scent fills the space between us.
I walk back to my desk and set one of the glasses in front of her.
She looks at it as if it were a snake.
"I don't drink during work hours, Mr. Conti." Her voice is clipped.
"It is not a test, Ms. Murray," I say. "It is an invitation." I take a sip from my own glass. "To a different kind of conversation."
She looks up at me, her eyes guarded. "What kind of conversation?"
"One about trust," I say.
The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication.
"I was hired to do a job, Mr. Conti. My personal life is not relevant." She says it quietly, but her eyes are clear.
I nod slowly.
"You are correct, of course," I say. "But you are not just an employee. You are a confidante. And a confidante is entitled to a certain level of... transparency."
I can see the wheels turning in her head. She is trying to figure out what I am doing. What I want from her.
And so am I.
"I am a lawyer, Mr. Conti. Not a confidante."
"A good lawyer," I counter, "is often a confidante."
I set my glass down. "I want to be clear, Ms. Murray. The access you have been given is not just a professional courtesy. It is a statement of faith. You are seeing the inner workings of a company that is, in many ways, a family. And families have secrets."
I am pushing her, and I know it. I am pushing her to see if she will break. To see what she will do when she is backed into a corner.
I expect her to retreat. To retreat into the cool, professional armor she wears so well.
She doesn't.
With her eyes on mine, she reaches for the glass. She lifts it, but she doesn't drink. She just holds it, her fingers curled around the base.
"Secrets are a liability, Mr. Conti." Her voice is even, but her eyes are burning. "They create exposure. My job is to eliminate exposure."
"So you will eliminate my secrets?" I ask, my tone almost teasing.
"I will eliminate the ones that create a risk for the company," she says.
"And the rest?" My voice is soft, challenging.
"Perhaps," she says, her eyes locking onto mine, "those would be better suited for a confidante."
The air crackles.
The exhaustion has vanished, replaced by a raw, vibrant energy that is almost palpable. She is not the same woman who walked into my office.
She has turned my own words against me. She has accepted the challenge, and she has raised the stakes.
