Page 286 of Ricardo
I bend and press my mouth to her hair.
“Call me if he stirs.”
“I will.”
I leave before I can change my mind.
Lorenzo falls into step beside me as the door closes behind us. The hallway is quiet here in the recovery wing. Things seem more muted.
I hate this place.
I hate that Dante is here.
I hate that Julia has to sit beside his bed.
Lorenzo says nothing until we turn the corner and put distance between ourselves and the room.
Then he stops near the window at the end of the hall.
I turn to face him.
“So,” I say, voice low. “We received an answer.”
Lorenzo’s expression does not change.
But his eyes do.
“More than that, actually.”
I brace myself.
Conti Enterprises on this Sunday afternoon seems too bright for what’s about to happen within its walls.
Chicago lives on below us as if nothing has changed. Traffic along the river. Pedestrians crossing streets with coffee in hand.
In this conference room, things are very different.
Mario stands at the head of the table with his hands resting lightly against the back of a chair. He has changed from the clothes he wore last night, and though I know he got no more sleep than the rest of us, it is hidden.
Today is not the day to show weakness. Lorenzo sits to his right, phone face down on the table. Diego is near the windows, arms crossed, gaze on the door. Matteo and Tomasso stand behind Mario, as he has directed them. His firstborn son and his second, only minutes younger. Edoardo and Alessio flank Lorenzo much the same.
And I am at the opposite end of the table, reining in my impatience.
I would rather be at the hospital right now, but this meeting is too important. This is the meeting I wanted.
I just didn't know it would be happening so soon.
Or like this.
“They’re here,” Matteo says.
He has been watching the message feed from downstairs.
Mario straightens.
The room changes, and we become a unit. I take my place to the right of Matteo. No longer second in line, but still the second oldest.
Each of us takes our rightful position.
