The pen moved across the last page of the stack without a single question. Dante Moretti signed the way other men breathed, quick and certain, his eyes already on the doorway where Elena waited.
"Anything else?" He capped the pen and tossed it onto the desk. The stack of documents I had prepared was already shifting toward his elbow, already forgotten.
"No." I smiled, the one I had practiced in mirrors until it looked real. "Just the routine financing reports. I'll file them in the morning."
He was already walking past me, and I heard his voice change as he reached the door, the hard edge of the Don melting into something softer. "Elena, you didn't need to come down. I told you I'd be two minutes."
I stood in the study and watched him take her hand. The widow of his dead brother, fragi
