Yes, sir.
His response was immediate:Don't call me that unless you want me to cancel the meeting and keep you in my office all day.
Heat flooded through me. I bit my lip and typed back:Noted for future reference.
You're going to be trouble, aren't you?
You have no idea.
I got ready and headed to Elio's office exactly thirty minutes later. Professional. Appropriate. Ready to discuss strategy.
When I walked in, Elio was at his desk reviewing documents. He looked up. Our eyes met.
For just a second—barely a heartbeat—his expression softened. Heated. Showed me everything he was thinking. Everything he remembered from last night.
Then control slammed back into place.
"Julian. Good. Sandro will be here in five minutes. Sit." He gestured to the chair across from his desk. Professional distance. "We're presenting the final evidence package against your father. I need you to walk us through the timeline one more time. Make sure we haven't missed anything."
I sat down and pulled out my notes. Tried to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. How my body was hyperaware of every movement Elio made.
We reviewed the documents in silence. Professional. Focused. Like last night hadn't happened.
But under the desk, Elio's foot touched mine.
Just barely. Just enough for me to know it was deliberate.
My breath caught. I looked up. Elio's expression was perfectly neutral. But his eyes held heat.
"This section needs clarification," he said, pointing to a document. "Explain the connection between these payments and the intelligence sharing."
I leaned forward to look at what he was indicating. As I did, Elio's hand moved—just slightly—to rest on the desk near mine. Not touching. But close enough that I could feel the warmth.
"The payments correspond to dates when my father provided information about the Castellano family's operations," I explained. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Each transfer of funds matches a documented instance of intelligence sharing with Agent Watson."
"Good. Sandro will want that clearly outlined."
His finger brushed against mine. Barely. Just enough to send electricity up my arm.
I met his eyes. Saw the corner of his mouth twitch. He was doing this on purpose. Testing my ability to maintain composure.
Two could play that game.
"What about the correspondence with the Romano family?" I asked, shifting closer on the pretense of pointing something out. My knee pressed against his under the desk. "That shows a pattern of betrayal across multiple families, not just isolated incidents."
Elio's jaw tightened slightly. The only sign I'd affected him.
"That's an excellent point. We should—"
A knock on the door interrupted him.
We both pulled back immediately. Professional distance restored.
"Come in," Elio called.
Sandro entered, followed by Luca. Both took seats at the small conference table in Elio's office.
"Let's see what we have," Sandro said.
