Page 4 of Bobby

Doesn’t matter. I’m here at the office on a Saturday. And since I’m here, Marco is too. As my second, he goes where I go. Also, Danny made sure he knows that he’s meant to jump in front of any danger that could be bestowed upon me. That includes the dangers of driving in the city or even opening my own damn door. Marco knows I can take care of myself, and so does Danny. Neither care, though, and I just deal with it.

We park in front of the building and make our way inside. I might expect the place to be empty, but that doesn’t mean I leave it unguarded.

“Jimmy.” I nod at the man standing behind the desk.

He checks in everyone on the weekends, even the cleaning staff, with a written sign-in and sign-out sheet to log names and the locations they’ll go to. We have a badge system as well, but since very few people come in at all on the weekends, I prefer the hand log. I get it every Monday morning as part of my briefing to see who was here and who wasn’t. Micromanaging? Maybe. But I run the company and can do whatever the fuck I want.

I sign my name and Marco’s, noting the cleaning people and one other name on the list above mine: Willow Frazzer, floor seven.

The name rings a bell, but nothing stands out. There are hundreds of people who work here; I can’t possibly know them all. Still, someone here on a Saturday, especially on a lower floor reserved for grunt work that doesn’t usually require weekend hours, warrants an extra stop. If someone is trying something in my building, it wouldn’t be the first time they started on a lower level to work their way up. The badges only grant them access to their floor and the common floors. Nowhere else, unless access is changed.

We approach the elevators, and without a second thought, I hit the button for floor seven. Marco doesn’t question it. He’s not paid to question me, and he knows it. I only answer to Vinny and Mama. Occasionally, my other brothers chime in when something falls within their area of expertise. Everyone else either works for the famiglia or isn’t someone I care to talk to. My reasons are my own, and no explanation is needed.

The doors open a few moments later, and I step out onto the floor. It’s an open plan with a few offices on the back wall. The rest of the room is divided into rows of cubicles with walls that only go halfway up. Enough to keep you from matching eyes with the person in front of you, but not high enough for me to miss the woman sitting at one desk.

The floor is carpeted, and while we don’t hide our presence, our movements are stealthy from years of practice.

She doesn’t look up when I approach from behind, and I have time to look her over, letting recognition snap into place. And something else I don’t bother naming.

One of the new hires I made a few months back. Part-time, I think. I don’t recall anything notable about her, but if she was confirmed to the position, I must have liked her well enough. Her frame is slender, and despite it being the weekend, she’s dressed as if it’s a Monday morning. Including the heels kicked under her desk, her legs crossed at the ankle below her chair.

I clear my throat. Once is enough. Not enough to startle, but to alert her I’m here. Her head tilts to the side as if she’s looking at me in her periphery, but her fingers continue to type away.

“One second,” she murmurs in a soft voice.

I glance at Marco and see a twitch on his lip. He knows better than most that I haven’t had many people tell me to wait before.

“Yes, how can I….” She turns with a smile only for it to die quickly on her face when she sees me. She casts me a look up and down, not sparing Marco a glance before standing and placing her smile back on her face. The ease with which she reacts and then adjusts so quickly is intriguing.

“Mr. Leone, nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mrs. Frazzer.”

“Ms.,” she corrects me politely with an easy smile. I try to ignore the way her foot searches behind her for her shoe under the desk.

I don’t need to be told things twice. One reason I’m in charge of this side of the Leone family is that I remember things. Constantly. Minor details that others overlook, I focus on and recall. It makes for some insomniac nights, but I’ve never lost millions in a deal because of it. Saved us a few, though.

“What brings you in on a Saturday?” I ask. I don’t see a need to be coy when it involves my company.

“Just finishing a few things I wasn’t able to complete this week that Mr. Folly needs first thing Monday.”

“We don’t allow weekend work.” I speak in an authoritative tone, but I let a polite smile slip onto my face.

Mama made it clear on day one that weekends were meant for time with the family, that it was unacceptable for a boss to demand that a person work on the weekends if they gave them a full five days of their week. Something I implemented into this business. Obviously, there are certain sectors to which it doesn’t apply. Like Marco’s job. But his pay is five times that of my top executives here for a reason. Also, if I gave him the day off, he’d just hang out with me as it is. We both like to work. For him, that’s watching over me.

“Oh, Mr. Folly explained the no-overtime policy clearly. I understand, and I’m not expecting any reimbursement or anything. I made the mistake of stating the file would be done Friday, and since it wasn’t, I understand I needed to correct that.”

“No-overtime policy?” I ask.

She nods quickly, mistaking my repeating her words as confirmation that she understood and not that they’re foreign to me. That policy shouldn’t exist.

I glance at Marco and see his jaw tick. He might not work in the building as an office employee, but he knows all the policies and what everyone does here. He could probably run the business if given the opportunity, or if he wanted to.

“Remind me again, Ms. Frazzer, what is your job title here?”

“Um, part-time financial analyst?” She says it like she’s wondering if I’m going to fire her. Like it’s a trick question.

But there’s no trick. Nothing about this is something to brush off. Full-time, part-time, even interns are allotted overtime pay. It’s encouraged that everyone clocks their time accurately to prevent any federal mandate issues, which could allow the feds to find a footing that gets them access to the famiglia.