Isabella
I place my fist to my forehead, switching my gaze between Luca and Damian every few seconds. We’re f****d.
“I don’t have the slightest idea, Luca.” Damian raises his hands in the air and sighs.
“How the f**k am I going to discuss the next shipment with the Romanians if I don’t know the terms we agreed to?” Luca asks.
“Well, you’ll have to improvise.”
“Do you even know what we ordered?”
“Not a clue. I just launder the money you throw my way. You’re in charge of everything else. I don’t know the quantities, the rates, or the payment terms.”
“What about Donato?” I throw in. “He should know most of that stuff. You just need to find a way to wring the info out of him without actually asking.”
“I’ll take him with me,”—Luca nods—“say I’m planning on passing the reins over to him
