“That seems fair.”
“No,” Doyle said dryly. “It’s Irish.”
That almost made me smile.
He set the glass down and stepped closer, enough to make the next words feel more personal than our business required.
“Tell Alessandro I’m curious to see what you become once they stop sending you back to finish essays.”
I thought of Emily then, of the essay still half-written on my laptop, of the silence she left behind in my apartment. The timing was unwelcome enough that I resented the reminder, which only made it worse. Pietro Benetti resenting the thought of a woman was the least useful thing he could possibly do with the next thirty seconds of his life.
“He won’t have to wait long.”
“No,” Doyle agreed. “I don’t think he will.”
We shook on it a minute later, and even as I turned to leave, I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, recalibrating, filing away whatever use the future might have for a man like me.
By the time Olivero and I stepped back into the corridor, I knew the deal would hold.
Once we were back in the car, I pulled out my phone and sent my father a text.
Found plan B for port issue. Can be rerouted through Doyle. He agreed to three percent value and reciprocity.
Less than five seconds later, my phone started ringing.
Olivero glanced at the screen and gave a low whistle. “Well. It was nice knowing you.”
I answered. “Good evening, Father.”
“You are very lucky,” Alessandro said, his voice low and dangerous, “that I have just finished reading the most tedious story in human history to get your sister to sleep and therefore cannot shout. Tell me this is a joke.”
“It’s not.”
A beat of silence followed.
Then, very distinctly, “No?”
“No.”
“I see.” His tone remained calm, which was always more dangerous. “And why—and I really cannot stress this enough—the fuck did you go to see Doyle without speaking to me first?”
Olivero turned toward the window, shoulders shaking once with suppressed laughter.
I ignored him.
“Because the Jersey issue isn’t going away,” I said. “Because rerouting through Doyle gives us a controlled pressure release without escalating too quickly. Because I knew you’d say no if I asked permission first.”
“Of course I would have said no.”
“Yes.”
“And that did not stop you.”
“No.”
My father exhaled sharply. “You are becoming profoundly inconvenient.”
“I learned from the best.”
