I roll my eyes. "Of course he did."
"Don't worry." Lucrezia grins mischievously. "We'll find something that meets his standards but still looks hot. When do you want to go? We could head to Madison Avenue after this."
"Today works for me," I reply, finishing my pastry.
"Perfect!" Lucrezia claps her hands together, leaving powdered sugar fingerprints on her palms. "We'll hit Saks first, then maybe Bergdorf's. Oh, and we have to stop at La Perla."
Ettore clears his throat pointedly, and Lucrezia laughs. "Sorry, Ettore. I forget you're still pretending I'm twelve."
The tires of my Aston Martin crunch over gravel as I pull into the warehouse parking lot. My headlights cut through the early evening darkness, illuminating the weathered brick exterior. This place has been mine for fifteen years - off the books, off the grid, and perfect for handling problems without complications.
Alessio's already here, his black Maserati parked in its usual spot. I kill the engine and scan the surroundings before stepping out. Old habits.
Inside, the warehouse smells of metal and concrete. Alessio stands over a stack of crates, checking inventory against his clipboard. He straightens when he hears my footsteps.
"Numbers look right?" I ask, joining him.
"To the letter. Shipment's clean," Alessio replies, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The Colombian product moved through faster than expected. Might need to talk about expanding the route."
I run my thumb along my bottom lip, considering the implications. "More movement means more visibility."
"Could be worth it. Profits from the last quarter are up seventeen percent." Alessio hands me the clipboard. "The Queens territory is already paying off. Eastonmay be a snake, but his distribution channels were solid."
I scan the figures, nodding slowly. "What about our friends in blue? Any issues?"
"Nothing Davis can't handle. Our monthly donation to the Police Benevolent Fund is working its magic." Alessio crosses his arms, shifting his weight. "Speaking of connections... I might have arranged something with Sartori as you asked."
My head snaps up. "You did?"
"Yeap." Alessio's expression remains neutral, but I catch the slight gleam in his eyes.
"Just preliminary talks. Feelers about a potential meeting. They're looking to expand their reach from Chicago, and it seems they might prefer an alliance over competition."
"The Sartoris." I let out a low whistle. Their operation in Chicago is almost as extensive as ours in New York. An alliance with them would solidify our position on the East Coast. "This could change everything."
"It's early days," Alessio cautions. "But if we play this right..."
"Keep pushing. The Sartoris are exactly what we need right now. Let me know as soon as you have something concrete."
Alessio nods, but his eyes linger on me longer than necessary. "Will do." He hesitates, then adds, "Everything okay with you, Damiano?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"You seem distracted lately." He chooses his words carefully. "Since the wedding."
I turn away, focusing on the inventory list again though I'm not reading it. "I'm fine."
"Is it Zoe?"
I don't answer immediately. The silence stretches between us, filled only with the distant hum of the ventilation system.
"It's not easy," I finally admit, my voice low. "Letting a woman into my life after Bianca."
Alessio waits, knowing better than to push.
"Years have passed and I still see her face when I close my eyes." I rub a hand over my jaw. "Now there's Zoe, in my home, challenging everything. It's not what I expected."
"Maybe it's time," Alessio says quietly. "To let yourself care about someone again."
