I lean back in the chair. “I’m touched by your interest in my health.”
“I’m interested in keeping you upright.”
“No Sardi,” I say, more firmly.
“Then someone outside.”
I shake my head. “No records. Cash. No family name. No house car.”
“You cannot walk into the city alone.”
“I can if everyone’s incompetent.”
“No one here is that incompetent.”
“Shame.”
Teresa folds her hands. “I can arrange a visit.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “With whom?”
“A doctor who asks fewer questions than she should.”
“Why?”
“Because I pay her to.”
Interesting. I file that beneathTeresa has independent channels.
“Does Alessandro know about these channels?” I ask.
Her gaze holds mine. “No.”
That’s either true or the most elegant lie in the house. I take it. For now.
“When?” I ask.
“Today.”
Of course. The thing about secrets is that once someone else sees their outline, they begin moving faster than you do.
“I haven’t agreed,” I point out.
“You have.”
“I don’t recall that.”
“You said no to Dr. Sardi.”
“Yes.”
“That leaves this.”
I sigh. “I dislike how often you’re right.”
“Most people do.” She moves toward the door.
“Teresa.”
