He turned the page.
My irritation, already healthy, sharpened instantly. “No?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did.” He flipped another page. “My answer remains no.”
I folded my arms. “What, are you scared of the cripple?”
That got his attention.
Olivero looked up slowly, snorted once, and shut the book on a finger to keep his place. “Nice try.” He leaned back in the chair and gave me a long, unimpressed look. “There is nothingcrippled about you, and I saw you spar with your uncle, the head of the yakuza, three nights ago. Thank you, but no. I like my ribs exactly where they are.”
I stared at him. “You recover quickly from cowardice.”
“And you recover badly from being in love. We all have our strengths.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Careful.”
He smiled without warmth. “You’re the one asking people to hit you because a girl hasn’t texted back.”
“I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He lifted the book again. “Your face did.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
I exhaled through my nose and dropped onto the sofa opposite him. “If you say one more thing, your funeral will need a closed casket.”
“That’s fair,” he said mildly. “But perhaps consider the radical possibility that she didn’t run because she hated you. She ran because you told her you were mafia and in love with her in the same conversation.”
I went still.
Olivero lifted one shoulder. “That was a lot for a Monday. Give her time.”
“Oh yes?” I said. “And now you’re a relationship expert? Maybe you should start a column.Mafia Weekly. Advice for the emotionally compromised.”
He closed his book softly. “Maybe I should. With you around, I’d never run out of material.”
I gave him the finger.
Unfortunately, I also hated that he was right. If Emily needed time, then time was what she would have. And if I was goingto sit with that without losing my mind entirely, I needed to do something useful.
The port problem in Jersey came back to me at once. One of the possible solutions was a secondary route, but that was exactly the sort of thing Killian Doyle handled best. Logistics, infrastructure, leverage, and whatever dark magic he used to make impossible things appear legal on paper. If anyone knew how to solve it cleanly, it was Doyle.
I stood, went to my room, and changed.
When I came back out dressed to leave, Olivero looked up from his chair and arched a brow.
“Oh good. So we’re done moping?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m going to see Doyle.”
Olivero nodded as if this confirmed some private theory. “Respectable. I was worried you were about to seek emotional healing in one of his clubs. I would not have taken you for?—”
