No questions. No hesitation.
That unsettled him more than being stopped would have.
Jenna stood at the entrance in a fitted red dress, diamonds catching the late afternoon light. She looked composed. Confident. At home.
“Hey,” she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “Daddy’s ready.”
Inside, the mansion was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful. Men stood at intervals down the hallway, still but attentive. The air smelled faintly of leather and cigar smoke.
She led him straight to the office without knocking.
Manetto Lionetti sat behind a wide desk, reviewing something on his phone. He set it down slowly when they entered.
His eyes assessed Izzy in one measured sweep.
“So,” he said evenly, “you’re the one.”
Izzy stepped forward, extended his hand. The shake was firm, deliberate. Not welcoming. Not hostile. Controlled.
“Sir.”
They sat.
Jenna wasted no time.
“She’s still hovering,” Jenna said, irritation just beneath the surface. “I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me.”
Lionetti glanced at her, then at Izzy.
“She asked me to intervene,” he said calmly.
Izzy’s chest tightened.
This wasn’t the beginning of a conversation. It was a continuation.
Jenna leaned back, crossing her legs. “She thinks she can stay close to him, and it won’t affect anything. It does.”
Lionetti’s gaze settled on Izzy.
“And you?”
The question wasn’t about Rebecca.
It was about loyalty.
Izzy chose his words carefully. “She doesn’t know when to step away.”
That was enough.
Lionetti nodded slightly. “It’s already being addressed.”
The shift in the room was subtle but final.
Izzy felt it.
This wasn’t about confrontation or warnings. There were no raised voices, no dramatic threats. Just calm certainty.
Lionetti folded his hands. “I prefer efficiency.”
