Page 13 of Ricardo

“You’re early.”

I keep my face blank and reach for the message slip on my desk. “Your call log is updated, and Lorenzo’s documents are ready for review.”

Mario’s gaze shifts to me.

“Thank you, Julia.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ricardo looks at me then.

Only for a second.

Long enough.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he says.

My pulse betrays me one last time.

“You’re welcome.”

Mario opens his office door and gestures Ricardo inside.

Ricardo walks past me, close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne. Expensive, warm, and just a bit spicy.

He does not look back.

That is good, merciful.

Mario follows him into the office, and the door closes behind them.

I sit back down at my desk, place my hands on the keyboard, and stare at the email on my screen without reading a single word.

Chapter Two

Ricardo

Julia O’Brien is Dante’s friend.

That should settle it.

It’s a simple fact, a clean boundary. One of the few lines in my life that should require no interpretation at all.

She is twenty-six. She is my son’s friend. She works for my brother.

There. Settled.

Except the thought refuses to stay where I put it.

It follows me through meetings. Through long conversations with men who mistake politeness for weakness. Through dinners with my brothers. Through late hours in my office, when the city is black glass and scattered lights beyond the window.

She says my name directly. No hesitation, and no attempt to flatter me.

I like that. Maybe a little too much.

She does not simper or stiffen. She does not try to impress me, which is rare and more interesting than it has any right to be. Most people change the moment they realize they are speaking to a Conti. Some try to flatter us. Some get nervous. Some offer whatever they think we want. Some try not to be noticed at all.

Julia looked at me as if she could handle me.