Then he said, “No.”
A tiny, terrible warmth opened in my chest.
Sal’s voice dropped. “You choose this?”
Nico looked at the paperwork, then at me, then back to the phone.
“I choose not to lie.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
Sal went silent.
Outside, a group of tourists laughed near the rail, bright and careless in the hot Miami noon. The world had rude timing.
“Then you’re done as collector,” Sal said. “You walk away from my protection, my name, and my organization over a woman who still owes money.”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
I gripped the edge of the folder so I wouldn’t reach for him.
“She’s not walking away from the debt,” Nico said. “She’s paying what’s real.”
“And when I decide what’s real?”
“You don’t get my signature on a lie.”
Sal made a sound so calm it raised the hair on my arms. “Then enjoy your little drink launch. A profitable location is still a profitable location. I’ll find another path if you make yourself useless.”
The call ended.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
The phone screen went black on the desk.
I touched Nico’s wrist, one quick press. “Look at me.”
He did.
His eyes were cold enough that I could see the old life still trying to close around him.
“You don’t get to make that choice and then disappear inside it,” I said.
“I’m standing right here.”
“For now.”
His fingers turned under mine, careful and warm. “Your event starts in four minutes.”
“My event starts when I say it starts.”
His mouth almost moved. The look was tired and fond and much too close to pain.
“I won’t let him take it from you,” he said.
“No.” I pulled my hand back and picked up the folder. “We won’t let him take it. I lead. You back me up. After close, we deal with the shark in the phone.”
