Page 49 of Mario
He steps inside, but unlike his brothers, he doesn’t immediately take over the room.
I have no doubt he could if he wanted to.
He glances at the folders spread across my desk, the open laptop, the yellow legal pad covered in my handwriting, and the empty coffee cup beside my notebook. He doesn’t have to know it was the third one.
Then his eyes return to my face.
“You look like you’ve been here all weekend.”
“I haven’t.”
“That’s good. Lorenzo would blow his load over those kinds of billable hours.”
I’m also certain Lorenzo wouldn’t be happy with Diego’s colorful description, but it just makes me like Diego more.
“I’ve only been here since 7:15.”
He looks at the coffee cup again.
“It’s 8:03.”
“Yes.”
He laughs quietly and steps closer, holding out the mug. “Then I brought this at the right time. Lorenzo said you take it black.”
I take it carefully, with reverence.
“Thank you,” I say, trying not to sound too desperate.
“You’re welcome.”
The coffee is hot enough that I should wait.
I do not.
It burns my tongue a little, and I pretend it doesn’t because I have already lost enough battles with my body the past week.
Diego watches me over the rim of his own cup. “You have a strategy meeting with Mario at 9:00?”
I manage not to choke. Barely.
“With Mario?”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Did no one tell you?”
“No.”
“Then I am the bearer of news.”
I frown and set the mug down, reach for my laptop. “Was there a request for that?”
“Mario requests very few things.”
I look at him.
Diego’s smile turns apologetic. “That sounded less ominous in my head.”
“It was fitting,” I say before I catch myself.
