Page 101 of Pietro
I lean into his touch, letting his certainty anchor me. "Okay."
"Get dressed." He steps back, hands dropping away. "We leave in thirty minutes."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Pietro
The elevator rises through the building's spine, and I watch Nora in the mirrored doors. She stands with her shoulders squared, chin lifted, green eyes focused on something beyond the reflection. The burgundy blouse brings out the copper in her hair, pulled back in a twist that exposes the elegant line of her neck.
"You don't have to do this today." My voice fills the small space.
Her gaze shifts to meet mine in the mirror. "Yes, I do."
The doors slide open to my floor. Nora moves past me. She pauses at her desk and starts sorting papers into piles.. This is what she needs. Order from chaos, problems with solutions.
I lean against her desk, watching her work. The morning light catches the red in her hair, turns her skin luminous. After everything—the warehouse, the revelations about Finn, finding out her entire identity was built on lies—she's here. Choosing to stand beside me.
"Coffee?" She doesn't look up from the manifests she's organizing.
"Black."
"I know how you take your coffee, Pietro." The hint of her usual sharpness returns.Good.
She moves to the small kitchen, and I follow her with my eyes.
My phone buzzes. Lorenzo.
Everything okay?
I text back:Working. She needed normal.
Normal. Right. Because our lives are so normal.
I pocket the phone as Nora returns with two mugs. She's made herself tea.
"These shipping manifests." She spreads papers across her desk. "I need the last three months."
"Why?"
"Because something's been bothering me." She pulls out her laptop, fingers flying across the keys. "The Irish hits on our shipments. They were too perfect, too precise."
I straighten. "We knew they had surveillance?—"
"No. I think there is something I haven’t checked." She shakes her head, pointing to dates on the manifest. "Look at this. October fifteenth, they hit the warehouse exactly when the shipment arrived. Not an hour before when it was supposed to arrive, but when it actually arrived after the delay."
My blood cools. I move behind her chair, leaning over to see the screen.
"The Irish knew about the change."
"Who has access to these schedules?" My reflection stares back from the glass, features hard.
"Inner circle only. At least that’s what I know." Her voice carries no inflection. "Your brothers. Top lieutenants. Me."
Of course the leak would be someone that is close to me. I didn’t really want to face it but I have to.
We work through the morning, turning my office into a war room. Papers cover every surface—shipping schedules, personnel files, security logs. Nora creates a timeline on the wall using post-its, each leaked shipment marked in red.
"Lorenzo was in New York during the October hit." She adds a green note. "Couldn't have communicated the delay."
