The minute the man walked into the boardroom in my suite, his eyes latched onto me like he was staring at a myth, like he had only just confirmed my existence. He still had a confident form, but his eyes laid bare all his weakness and strength.
I lifted my gaze to both men standing behind him, faces stoic, eyes forward. I looked back down at the lean man before removing the cigar from my mouth and blowing out the smoke.
The silence was loud, palpable, filled with tension.
Lifting both fingers that held the thick stick of my cigar, I motioned to his bodyguards. “Are they here to kill me?”
The man’s eyes widened as he gestured for the men to findanother place to stand. They did so promptly, and the man threw an apologetic smile my way. “The Marino bodyguards of the Caporegime society take their jobsveryseriously, Mr. Marino,” he informed me. “They are well trained, skillful, and attentive. If you are ever in need of their services, we will have a team sent right to the headquarters, sir.”
“Do my soldiers look incapable of protecting me?”
The man blinked rapidly, shaking his head. “That was not what I implied by my offer—”
“Offer?”
“I meant…” he blurted, sweat gathering between his brows. “Mysuggestion, Mr. Marino. A mere suggestion.”
I kept my gaze steady on him, relaxing back on the soft leather chair. “Do your words fail you, Armato?” I asked, bringing the cigar to my lips again, taking a drag, and letting out the smoke, my focus still on the dark-haired man with the receding hairline. “Do you perhaps need water or a drink, or would you prefer a cigar to help you function properly?”
The man gulped, shifting in his seat. “I am all right, Mr. Marino.”
“Hm.” I nodded. “You came on behalf of the MCSS?”
“Yes.”
“As their…”
“Spokesperson, sir.”
I frowned. “Are you usually this transparent and uncoordinated when you conduct business on behalf of the Society?”
He cleared his throat. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
I watched him for a few seconds before nodding once.
“Thank you, sir.” He sat up, straightening his suit. “Forgive my lack of self-control; it’s difficult to determine how to approach you. Your name is all we know, and what we have heard from different mouths is all we see of you. Some people in the Society can never put a face to the name, and our messagesand requests stop directly at the door of Mr. Valerio. I act out of character because I am overwhelmed with the privilege of sitting before you, sir.”
I suppose I have my father to thank for that.
“I see,” I said. “You feel privileged and overwhelmed, yet you choose to disturb my vacation.”
“For which I apologize, Mr. Marino. The matter was rather pressing, and my boss had tried and failed to reach you directly via email.”
“He will continue to try and fail,” I responded.
The man’s mouth fell open and then closed again.
I sat up, pressing my cigar to the ashtray before picking up my glasses, putting them on, and opening the file. In my peripheral vision, I caught Armato’s surprise, clearly not expecting me to take much interest in the file’s contents.
Casmiro inched forward toward me, his seat creaking under his movement as he did. “It contains information for the shipment—”
“I can read,” I cut him off without letting my eyes leave the pages.
He inched backward in his seat.
The room grew quiet as my eyes perused the pages, reading line after line. A clock was ticking in the background. The light vibration beneath my feet as the cruise ship hummed was extremely loud, and the breathing of every man in the room was careful, waiting—ceasing, when I frowned.
“If I am correct”—I turned my head toward Casmiro—“this shipment was the one that had been shifted due to two added containers?”
