And Liana will be safe from that threat at least.
And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.
Chapter 27: Liana
"The shipment from Rotterdam arrives Thursday," I say, looking at the detailed manifest displayed on my tablet. "We need to clear customs by Friday morning or we lose the delivery window and incur penalties."
Antonio, one of Papa's oldest and most trusted associates, nods with the confidence of decades of experience. "I'll handle it personally."
"Good." I make a note on my tablet with quick, efficient strokes. "And the issue with the labor union?"
"Resolved. They agreed to our terms after some negotiation."
"Excellent work." I look around the polished conference table at the assembled group. Ten men, all of them twice my age, all of them watching me with varying degrees of respect and skepticism. "Anything else we need to address?"
"Actually," Antonio clears his throat uncomfortably. "There's been some unusual activity at the port. Thought you should know."
"What kind of activity?" I set down my tablet and give him my full attention.
"The Benedetti operation. One of their main warehouses failed inspection yesterday. Shut down completely by the city."
I keep my face carefully neutral, giving nothing away. "Which warehouse specifically?"
"The one on Pier Seven. Safety violations, apparently."
Pier Seven is only two docks away from our main operation, close enough to monitor.
"That affects us how?" I ask, keeping my tone professional.
"It doesn't. Not directly. It's strange timing. That's the second Benedetti warehouse to close this week."
I make a note on my tablet, filing the information away. "Keep me informed if it impacts our operations in any way. Otherwise, it's not our immediate concern."
The meeting continues through the agenda—distribution schedules, maintenance budgets, staffing issues that need resolution. All things I've been training for my entire life, absorbing through observation and careful study.
When the meeting ends, I gather my things. My bodyguard appears at my elbow immediately, his presence both protective and unobtrusive.
"Where to next?" he asks quietly.
"Papa's office for a brief check-in. Then lunch."
"Yes, ma'am."
We walk through the port, past towering shipping containers and busy loading docks. Workers nod respectfully as I pass. Some call out greetings by name. They know who I am now—not just Dominic Costa's daughter, but his second-in-command. A person with real authority.
“Miss Costa!”
I turn to see one of the dock supervisors jogging toward me, slightly out of breath. "Yes?"
"Just wanted to let you know—that supplier you asked about last week? The one the Benedettis use for their Mediterranean routes?" He's breathing hard from the run. "He switched companies. Signed with the Marcellos this morning."
I stop walking, processing this information. "What?"
"Yeah. They offered him significantly better terms. Better rates, better protection. He couldn't refuse." The supervisor shrugs. "Thought you'd want to know since we were considering using him too for the expansion."
"Thank you for letting me know," I manage, keeping my voice steady.
He nods and jogs back to his post.
