Dante's laugh is low, rough. "That's not happening."
"What?"
"I'm going to Sicily in a week. Valentino needs help managing some things in Palermo." He takes another drink. "Lorenzo already signed off."
Fuck.
I keep my face neutral, but my jaw tightens. "Then we'll assign someone else for pickups."
"Dario's available. Or Santos. Both solid."
Both solid. Both loyal. Both men who've worked for the family for years without a single mark against their records.
Both men I don't want anywhere near Kristen Thomas.
I turn away, pretending to check my phone so Dante can't read whatever's on my face.
Dario is forty-three, married, three kids. Santos is engaged to a woman he's been with since high school. Neither of them would look twice at the new housekeeper.
But someone might.
Kristen is beautiful.
She's been single for eight months. What if she wants that to change?
What if one of my men—someone who drives her every day, who sees her smile, who hears her laugh—what if he decides tobe charming? To offer comfort? To remind her that she's young and beautiful and deserving of attention?
My hand curls into a fist around my phone.
She's an employee. This is none of your business. Let it go.
"Nico." Dante's voice cuts through my spiral. "You still with me?"
"I'll handle the transport myself."
The words come out before I can stop them.
Dante's eyebrows rise.
"You," he says flatly. "Are going to drive the housekeeper back and forth every day."
"Problem?"
"You hate driving."
"I don't hate it."
"You once made Lorenzo circle the block four times because you wanted to finish reading a quarterly report."
I take another sip of coffee. "That was important."
Dante sets his mug down.
"What's going on?" he asks quietly.
Nothing.
Everything.
