Page 30 of Pietro

Nico follows, suspicious gaze cataloging the flush in my cheeks. Vittoria bounces in last.

Pietro enters freshly showered, dark hair still damp. He's changed into a charcoal suit that fits him perfectly, every line designed to intimidate and impress. But I see the exhaustion beneath..

"I need to go to the office today." He doesn't sit, just stands behind his chair. "Check on operations after yesterday's incident."

"You mean after the Irish tried to kill your secretary?" Nico's voice drips acid. "Maybe we should discuss why they're suddenly so interested in your employees."

"Maybe we should discuss why you're suddenly so interested in questioning my decisions." Pietro's tone drops, a layer of ice forming over each word.

Lorenzo intervenes smoothly. "We're all concerned about security. That's natural after recent events."

"Recent events." Vittoria laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You mean Riccardo getting murdered? Bruno lying in a coma? Those recent events?"

Silence slams down on the table.

"I have work to do." Pietro turns to leave, then pauses. "Nora, you're with me. If the Irish are targeting you, you're safer where I can see you."

It's not a request. I stand, aware of every eye tracking my movement.

"Pietro." Giulia appears with a covered plate. "At least take this. You didn't eat."

He accepts the offering with surprising gentleness, fingers brushing the older woman's hand. "Grazie, Giulia."

The moment passes quickly, but I catch it. The softness he allows himself only with Pablo's mother.

The drive to the office is quiet, Pietro navigating Chicago morning traffic with practiced ease. The city looks different frominside his Maserati—smaller, more manageable. Money has a way of shrinking problems to handleable size.

"Nico doesn't trust me." I watch buildings blur past.

"Nico doesn't trust anyone. It's what makes him valuable."

"And dangerous."

Pietro glances at me, something unreadable in his expression. "Everyone in my family is dangerous, Nora. Even Vittoria, when pushed."

I decide to remain silent. I’m tired this morning already.

We pass through Lincoln Park, then into the Loop. The Sartori building rises ahead, all black glass and sharp edges. Pietro pulls into the underground garage, past security checkpoints that part before him.

"Thank you." I say, realising I never did tank him properly.

"Don't thank me yet." He turns to face me fully. "After yesterday, things change. You're not just my secretary anymore. You're under Sartori protection, which means you follow Sartori rules."

"Which are?"

"You go nowhere alone. Ever. You report anything suspicious immediately. And you learn to defend yourself properly." His eyes bore into mine. "Starting today."

Perfect. That’s exactly what was missing from my life right now. But I won’t argue. I need to play this along until I am ready to leave.

The elevator ride to the executive floor feels longer than usual. Pietro stands close enough that I could touch him by only stretching my fingers.

The office hasn't changed, but everything feels different. My desk, which yesterday seemed like a sanctuary, now feels exposed. Pietro's door stands open, that massive space beyond both invitation and threat.

"Your things." He indicates a duffel near my desk. "Liam didn't go through them, if that's what you're worried about."

But someone will, eventually. In this world, privacy is a luxury no one can afford.

I spend the morning catching up on correspondence, fielding calls from people whose names I recognize from files I shouldn't have read. Pietro works with his door open, and I catch glimpses of him—pouring whiskey before noon, staring out at the city like he's planning its destruction.