Page 163 of Mario
I shift in my chair. “So next week, I want to start framing the changes as protective rather than punitive. We’ll need executive backing on that. Clear messaging. Preferably from you or Lorenzo.”
I stop and he makes that sound again.
It’s a caress against my breasts, and I pray to God that my nipples are not obvious through my shirt.
I look down at my tablet, though the screen is dark and I do not need it. “I also have a draft schedule for the temporary access protocol. The biggest challenge will be enforcement. If someone can get a manual override by simply calling a senior director, the policy is useless. So the approval chain needs to be strict and documented. No informal exceptions.”
“Of course.”
“Which means family included.” I glance up. “I realize that may be difficult.”
“No.”
“No?”
“If family is the exception, everyone will expect to be the exception.”
I blink.
I expected resistance, even mild obstruction.
I definitely didn't expect cooperation.
It throws me off, and I take a moment to get back on track.
“Right,” I say. “Good. Exactly. So I’ll draft that language Monday morning.”
He watches me quietly.
I can feel myself filling the silence with nonsense.
“I, uh, reviewed the incident archive structure, and there are legacy categories that need to be separated. Some of the older reports include personal identifying information that should have been redacted before being visible outside security.”
Still nothing.
Only that unreadable look.
I swallow.
“And the department heads are mostly adjusting, though several are still irritated. That’s expected. People dislike losing access, even unnecessary access.”
His mouth shifts again.
I stop because I realize, all at once, that I have been talking for several minutes without taking a proper breath.
My face heats. I’m babbling.
But he’s still not saying anything.
“That’s the operational summary,” I continue cautiously. “Did you have any specific questions?”
He leans back in his chair slowly, still watching me.
The kind of watching that makes my skin feel too tight.
“No specific questions,” he says. “It all sounds like it’s going to plan.”
My fingers curl around the edge of my tablet.
