Giovanni hurried toward the hotel entrance, his brow furrowing as he noticed Ferragamo, Salvatore, and several subordinates standing motionless outside. Their presence seemed out of place.
"Mr. Ferragamo, Salvatore," Giovanni called out, his voice laced with concern. "Why are you standing out here? Shouldn’t you be inside by now? Is something wrong?"
Ferragamo turned slightly, his face calm but focused. "Nothing is wrong," he said evenly. "I’m waiting for someone."
"Waiting?" Giovanni echoed, his curiosity piqued. He glanced between them, confused. "You’re waiting for someone out here? You? That’s not like you at all. Who could possibly be important enough to make you wait?"
Ferragamo’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the road ahead. "You’ll see soon enough," he replied cryptically.
Be
