That's not strategy or planning. That's just stupidity dressed up as optimism.
"I should probably get some sleep," I say, deflecting. "I need to be back at the port early tomorrow morning."
Gia stands reluctantly. "For what it's worth? I genuinely think you're underestimating him significantly."
"Or I'm seeing him with perfect clarity and you're being hopelessly optimistic."
"Maybe that's true." She walks to the door and pauses with her hand on the handle. "But you won't actually know for certain until you try."
She leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
I sit there alone in my room, staring at the closed laptop on my nightstand.
Inside it is that ridiculous PowerPoint presentation. The mortifying, overly detailed schedule that made him think I was either completely insane or utterly clueless about how normal relationships work.
But this afternoon, when I let myself into his apartment using the codes he gave me, I didn't just grab my laptop and leave immediately.
I looked around carefully. I noticed things about the way he lives and what seems to matter to him.
There were business documents spread across his desk. Detailed financial reports. Territory maps marked with notes in his handwriting.
I took pictures of everything with my phone. Not to use against him or to cause harm. Just to understand him better than I currently do.
To understand exactly what I'm up against.
Because that's what I do. I gather information methodically. I plan every detail. I strategize constantly.
It's what Papa taught me from the very beginning. And it's what will either save me or completely destroy me in the next twenty-three days.
I open my laptop and navigate to the PowerPoint file, then delete it permanently. I don't need it anymore.
Whatever happens next, I need a completely new strategy.
One that doesn't involve pretending to be someone I'm fundamentally not.
Or maybe one that involves pretending even better than before.
I'm not sure yet which path to take.
But I have twenty-three days to figure it out.
I close the laptop and turn off the light, plunging my room into darkness.
Tomorrow, I'll be back at the port before dawn. Running complex operations. Making important decisions that affect people's lives and livelihoods.
Being the person I'm actually capable of being, at least for a few more weeks.
Chapter 16: Santino
I'm in a meeting with a supplier when the text comes through, the phone buzzing against the polished mahogany table. I glance down at the screen.
Liana: I left my laptop at your place. I need to pick it up.
I stare at the message for a long moment, reading it twice to make sure I'm not imagining the shift in her tone. It's different from her usual texts—no exclamation points punctuating every thought, no heart emoji at the end, no unnecessary enthusiasm. Just a simple, flat statement of fact.
Me: When?
Liana: Today, while you're at work. I don't want to bother you. Can you give me the keycode?
