Malcolm looks to Eleanor. “We’ll need to be strategic.”
Eleanor’s mouth curves slightly. “We always are.”
Then Malcolm’s gaze returns to me. “Elsa—thank you. And I’m sorry again about the gala.”
I keep my expression composed, even as last night flashes bright and warm behind my eyes.
“It’s fine,” I say. “How was it?”
Malcolm’s mouth pulls into a brief, satisfied smile. “Productive,” he says. “Lavish, as expected. They know how to put on a show.”
David glances up from his notes. “The property is… impressive.”
Eleanor’s gaze stays on Malcolm. “Very,” she agrees. “It’s designed to make you feel like you’re already saying yes.”
I give a small, noncommittal nod, not letting on that I’ve already experienced that for myself. As well as the inside of one of their suites and room service.
Malcolm folds his hands. “Roberto Conti and Caterina Conti. They’re the ones running the casino side of it. Roberto handled the introductions and the high-level talk, Caterina handled the operational specifics.”
David’s tone is crisp. “Caterina was sharp. Numbers-forward. Knows their compliance posture better than most people who claim they do.”
“That’s a positive,” I say.
Malcolm continues, “And Roberto’s wife, Olivia, she’s their marketing coordinator. She gave us a tour. It was curated but very well done.”
Eleanor’s mouth curves, faintly. “It didn’t feel like a sales pitch, but it absolutely was. I also think they have genuine pride in it, though, so that helped tremendously.”
David makes a small sound of agreement. “The tour was strategic. They highlighted systems. Security. Processes.”
I keep my face neutral, but my mind flicks, briefly, to being wrapped around Antonio in the hallway last night. Well, I hope none of their superior security caught that.
I press my pen harder against the table than I need to.
For the first time, I worry. Maybe they did, and when we meet, I’ll be compromised.
Malcolm’s gaze shifts to me. “Overall, they were polished. Serious. Prepared.”
“Good,” I say, not letting my inner thoughts show. “That’s what we want.”
“It’s what we want if it’s real,” Eleanor says smoothly. Her eyes slide over me, measuring. “Roberto is the one who feels… solid.”
David nods once. “He’s careful.”
Malcolm lifts a hand slightly, like he’s about to turn the page. “But what about the other one?”
“What other one?” I ask.
“The other brother,” David supplies. “Antonio.”
My spine tightens painfully before I canstop it.
My breath strips from my lungs.
Antonio.
The name hits me like a backhand across the face, leaving me dumbstruck.
I blink once, slowly, almost stupidly.
