Then I find theInc. Magazinecover story.
The Colonna Method: Why Corporate America’s Toughest Negotiator Is Also Its Most Feared
There’s a line in the text that rattles between my ears like a piece of shrapnel.
“I don’t need people to like me. I need them to take me seriously. If they happen to like me, too, great. If not, I’ll survive.”
That’s the woman who stared down my father without flinching. The woman whose perfume is still stuck in my nose.
I finally close the laptop at noon and rub my burning eyes. I’ve been reading about Adriana DiMicheli for four hours straight.
A couple of hours later, I show up at my brother Cillian’s bar, Venom. It’s one of the hottest nightclubs in Southie on theweekends, but on a Tuesday afternoon, it’s quiet and calm. At least until the rest of my brothers show up.
Cillian is behind the bar when I walk in. He looks up from the glass he’s cleaning.
“There he is.” Cillian grins, putting the glass and rag on the bar. “The groom.”
“Don’t start.”
“Too late. Started about six hours ago when Gavin texted me.” He reaches under the bar and pulls out his phone.
“‘Bro. LOCH IS GETTING MARRIED. To a HOT CEO. What the FUCK.’” He winks at me. “All caps. Seventeen exclamation points. That’s some serious business, Loch.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And then you sent me more than enough reading material to keep me home all day. Whiskey?” Cillian asks.
“Ice cream.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“And?”
He shakes his head but reaches into the freezer behind the bar. He always keeps a pint of mint chocolate chip back there just for me, because that’s the kind of brother he is. And Christ knows, I need it right now, way more than whiskey. He pulls out a spoon and slides both across the bar.
I peel the lid off, my mouth watering. First good thing that’s happened to me in twenty-four hours.
“So,” Cillian says, leaning his elbows on the bar. “Adriana DiMicheli.”
“Colonna. She goes by Colonna professionally.”
“Oh, we’re already using her professional name. Cool. Very normal behavior for a man who met her twelve hours ago.”
“I’m being thorough.”
“You’re being obsessive. You texted me six articles about her before I even finished my first cup of coffee this morning.”
My jaw tightens. “It’s what I do. I always need to be prepared.”
That was the plan, anyway. Be prepared. Get informed. Treat it like a security assessment.
Except security assessments don’t usually involve watching the same podcast interview three times because you can’t stop thinking about the way a woman tilts her head when she’s about to decimate an argument.
“She’s impressive,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Cillian’s grin is insufferable. “What else is she?”
I stuff a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth and swallow. “Forty.”
