Page 32 of The Devils in the Details

He had an expensive watch on his wrist and his hair was with the kind of precision that suggested someone had spent actual minutes on it rather than the fifteen seconds I gave mine before surrendering to the laws of physics.

He smiled. The smile was good. Professional-grade. The kind of smile that had opened doors his entire life and expected this one to be no different.

“Zephyr.” My name in his mouth sounded polished, like he’d rehearsed it. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

I took a caramel out of the wrapper I’d been holding and popped it into my mouth. I held his gaze while I did it because I have principles, and one of them is that you don’t break eye contact when a man who dresses like he’s auditioning for a magazine spread walks into your workspace uninvited.

“The door has a mechanism,” I said. “It involves making contact with your knuckles against the wood. Revolutionary concept. Still catching on in certain circles.”

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it got warmer, which was impressive and also deeply irritating. “My apologies. Force of habit. The palazzo has always felt like... family space.”

Well, that explained how he’d gotten in here.

Family space.

I needed to send Ari an email about that.

“The palazzo feels like a building. Buildings have doors. Doors have mechanisms.” I gestured with the empty wrapper. “We can workshop this. I have a whiteboard somewhere.”

He crossed the room, not fast, not slow, just the pace of a man who had never needed to hurry because rooms had always waited for him. He pulled the chair from the corner—my chair, the one I’d been using for reference materials—and sat down across from me like we were having a cozy conversation.

“I’ve been watching your work,” he said as e leaned forward. Elbows on knees. The posture of a man delivering something important with the casual confidence of someone who expected it to be received as such. “What you did with the accounts. The five hundred million. Impressive doesn’t cover it.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t elaborate. Elaboration was for people who wanted the conversation to continue, and I was still deciding whether I fell into that category.

I also had to wonder how he knew anything about what I was doing. I could see him maybe knowing about the returned money, but I doubt Ari would have told him how it was done.

Made me wonder if he had eyes inside the place I worked.

“Ari’s lucky to have found you.” He held my gaze. The dark eyes were doing something complicated—warm on the surface, calculating underneath. “But I wonder if he’s the right fit for your talents.”

Ah.

There it was.

I unwrapped another caramel. Slow. Deliberate. The gold foil caught the light, and I made sure he watched every second of it because timing is a weapon and I was fully armed.

“Are you offering me a job?” I asked. Pleasant. Professional. The tone of a man who was enjoying the show. “Because if so, I should tell you that my current employer has a particular set of responses to poaching that involve knives and a notable lack of due process. Just so we’re clear on the risk-reward profile.”

Theo’s smile shifted. Something warmer entered it, something that lived in the neighborhood of indulgence without quite arriving there. “Not a job, Zephyr. Something better than a job.”

He paused. The kind of pause that was supposed to build anticipation, and would have worked on someone who hadn’t spent the last decade reading rooms for a living.

“I’m offering you a life.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “No more scrambling. No more contracts. You’d have everything—a place in the family, resources, protection. My protection.”

He reached across the desk. His hand settled next to mine, not touching, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his skin. His fingers were smooth. Manicured. He had the hands of a man who had never unloaded a shipping container at three in the morning and had the calluses to prove it.

“Think about it,” he said. “What you could do with that kind of stability. What we could do together.”

I looked at his hand. Then at his face. Then at the caramel wrapper between my fingers, which was considerably more interesting than either of those things.

“Let me make sure I understand.” I kept my voice even. “You’re proposing that I become your... what, exactly? Personal finance wizard? Live-in accountant? The kept man of a Romano cousin with a nice watch and boundary issues?”

His smile didn’t move, but something behind it did. A fractional cooling. The kind of shift that happened when a man who was used to doors opening found one that had just closed.

“I’m proposing a partnership,” he said. The warmth in his voice had developed a thin edge. “One that benefits both of us considerably more than whatever arrangement you have with Ari.”

“I have a job with Ari. It comes with a desk, a paycheck, and the distinct advantage of not being a metaphor.” I leaned back. “Also, he knocks. It’s a small thing, but it matters. Manners. You should look into them. They’re having a moment.”