Page 72 of My Unexpected Surprise
I pull his file during the afternoon session, while Livia is running the final vehicle drill with Nico buckled into the back seat of one of the lodge’s fleet cars, laughing at something through the window, and I stand at the perimeter of the exercise yard reading about Dante De Luca on my phone.
De Luca Meridian. Forty-two cases across nine jurisdictions. Three separate civil proceedings in the last decade, all settled, none reaching discovery. Two ex-wives, both of whom signed comprehensive NDAs. A daughter from the first marriage.
One daughter.
The file is thorough. My team assembled it in under an hour from the moment I flagged the name. I read it twice, and then I put my phone away and watch Livia climb out of the car, help Nico down from the back seat, and crouch in the drill yard to wipe something off his cheek while he objects with full force.
She is laughing.
And warmth spreads in my chest when I hear it, then like a blade finding the gap between ribs, is the knowledge that she didn’t look like that in the corridor this morning. She stood inthat room and made herself very still while her father implied that the son she has raised alone for four years, the boy who is currently trying to negotiate his way out of having his face cleaned, is something he could use against her.
The anger I feel about that is not professional.
I stopped pretending it was professional approximately twelve hours ago.
The conversation happens before dinner, in the thirty-minute window when Nico is settled with a staff member and the lodge’s social rooms are too full and too bright for the kind of conversation I need to have.
I find her in the small garden off the east wing, the one with the stone bench and the overgrown lavender that nobody seems to tend. She’s standing with her back to me, arms crossed, looking at nothing in particular.
“I spoke to Aurelius’s legal team,” I say. “De Luca Meridian has a proxy stake in the energy division but no consortium standing that grants access to retreat participants. He wasn’t supposed to be in that room this morning.”
She turns around. “Valentino—”
“Margaret Aurelius has been informed. His access to the shared program spaces is being reviewed.”
Something moves through her expression. Not gratitude. Something more complicated than gratitude, with an edge to it I wasn’t expecting. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s a security matter.”
“It is none of your business.”
“Anything that constitutes a threat within the perimeter of a retreat I am managing is my business. Anything that threatens the integrity of the—”
“It’s not a business matter,” she says, and her voice has gone quiet, which I have learned is when she is most serious. “It’s my father. It’s my problem. I’ve had it my whole life and I am handling it, and you going around me to the Aurelius legal team is not handling, it’s controlling.”
I stop.
The lavender moves faintly in the evening air. Somewhere in the lodge behind us, someone is playing piano, something slow and European.
“He mentioned Nico to try and use him as leverage,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And that’s not something I’m going to stand still for.”
“You don’t get a vote on what happens with Nico.” Her voice stays level, but her eyes don’t. “Nico is not your business, Valentino.”
The words hurt because they're true. Nico isn't my business. The fact that I hate hearing it says more than I'm willing to examine right now. Especially not here, in a garden at dusk, with Livia standing close enough for me to forget every reason I should keep my distance.
I am quiet for a moment.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?”
“I understand your position.”
She looks at me with the expression people usually reserve for very fast weather changes. “That’s it?”
