Armando’s plan was already in motion. He leaned back in his sofa—a whiskey glass in hand—as he let his eyes drift across the sprawling night view of New York city
After a while, he picked up his phone, glanced at his watch, then dialed Matteo.
“Matteo,” he said, his tone casual but clipped. “She’s here?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good. Bring her up.”
Minutes later, there was a soft knock on his room's door. “Come in,” he called, then Matteo opened the door and let her in.
The room was almost dark, only illuminated by the dim lamps at each corner.
Armando was busy with his glass, not bothering to look up until she was right in front of him.
The woman—a tall brunette with striking features and sharp red lipstick—looked every bit the part he’d ordered.
He didn't need any more distractions, onl
