Chapter Four
Roberto
I tell myself I’m here to check progress, not to think about a woman I met for forty minutes while she stood in front of a screen in a sharp blazer that emphasized her tall, willowy figure.
Traffic along the inlet eases as I turn into the parking garage of the casino. Security waves me through. The elevator up to Operations hums, numbers sliding by with a soft beep.
The doors open on the smell of paint and new carpet. A contractor walks past with a coil of cable over his shoulder and nods. I nod back and keep walking.
I could go to the floor. I could check the pit layout, the host desk, the place where the real business will happen. I could find Ops and listen to him tell me that the deliveries were late again, and complain that fire marshals don’t care about vision. It’s what I told myself I’d do in the car.
I step off the elevator and turn the other way.
The corridor for Admin still has blue tape Xs on the glass. The various offices wear paper labels insteadof plaques. I walk past Legal—my name on a temporary strip of paper that will someday be metal—past HR with a plant that is doing its best under fluorescent light, past a small conference room with a table that’s too small for the room.
I don’t slow down consciously. My eyes have the habit of scanning angles, corners. It’s quiet on this side, work quiet. Voices behind one door, a laugh that ends abruptly.
I tell myself I’m here for the opening plan. I tell myself I’ll find Caterina and ask her how the manual redemptions are looking.
The corridor turns. Down the L, a handful of offices sit in a half-finished row, windowed on one side to the ocean and on the other to the hallway. Most are dark. One isn’t.
The light hits the dust in the air above a battered table. She’s leaning over the table with both hands braced, eyes narrowed at a sheet of paper like it offended her personally.
The office isn’t an office yet. No door, just framing and an open mouth. No desk, just the table that bears scuffs. No chair that hugs someone’s generous curves. Just a plastic one shoved under the table. A stack of bins in the corner, a laptop, a legal pad, a glass of water with the kind of condensation that says she poured it and forgot it.
She’s not dressed for a room full of eyes. Black leggings, a soft sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed to her elbows, white sneakers that have seen better days. No blazer, no armor.
Her long dark hair is yanked back, and a few strands have worked free and curl near her temple. There’s a pen betweenher fingers, and a pen cap tucked between her teeth. The table reflects light onto the planes of her face, and her generous lips hugging the cap of the pen.
Her eyes are the blue of a clear summer day when there are no clouds in sight.
I stop where the door will soon be and give the wall a knock. She starts, then looks up, and the pink rises into her cheeks. It’s not embarrassment. It’s a reaction of her body that pleases me for some reason.
“Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” She remembers the pen cap between her teeth and pulls it out. Her cheeks deepen more. This time it’s embarrassment. She straightens, and in the second before she schools it, the line of nerves across her shoulders tenses. Then it’s gone. She caps the pen and sets it down carefully. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say. I step through the threshold and into the room. “Roberto Conti.”
Her brows furrow slightly. “Conti like…?”
For a moment, I tense. She wouldn’t ask… would she?
“Caterina?”
I relax. Of course that’s what she’s asking. She’s not from here. She wouldn’t know the name outside of Caterina.
“Her uncle,” I say.
Understanding clicks across her face. “Right. Sorry. I’m still learning who’s who.” She offers her hand. “Olivia Romano.”
Her hand is cool, grip sure. “I know,” I say, and let the corner of my mouth move a fraction. “I was at the presentation.”
Color creeps back into her cheeks. “Right.” She gives a half laugh, like she’s not sure what to say.
I look around the office. “You settling in?”
“As much as an office without a door allows.” She looks around as well. “It’s not much to look at yet.”
