LUCA
Talciro handed me a glass of something dark and expensive as soon as I entered his office, led by his bodyguard.
I took it, not because I wanted it, but because I needed to be doing something other than dashing back outside to make sure Alina was safe.
Talciro was about sixty, with steely eyes and a stern mouth. I had no idea why he had invited me to his office, but I was about to find out, and I hoped he would get to the point soon.
"I'll get straight to the point," he said, smooth as ever, like he could read my mind. "I know you're a busy man. And I've got guests waiting outside."
I gave a single nod and took the seat across from him. I didn't trust him.
His smile was too polished, and his demeanor was too familiar.
Men like him only spoke first when they had
