CHAPTER SEVEN
The house was quiet, but my mind wasn't.
I leaned at the edge of my desk, the glass of untouched scotch warming on my palm. The room was strangely still except for the soft rumble of air vents and the far off crackle of burning logs in the fire.
Francesca had left nearly fifteen minutes earlier. And yet, she hadn't. Not really.
She'd gone out with the same calm, steady pace she'd come in with, unshaken and unapologetic. I had told her she was moving in expecting resistance, not because I necessarily needed her to be here, but because I wanted to get under her skin.
She didn't argue, just hesitated and when I finally decided a day for her, tomorrow, she only nodded and agreed. That was it
I attempted to get her out of my head, but the longer the silence in my office stretched, the more her voice whispered.
She had questioned me earlier, delayed picking my calls, and hesitated to return here when I asked her to. She even had the temerity to challenge me about Sandro's allergy, like I was supposed to know.
No one does that. No one ever has.
People are scared of me. They don't question me. They don't keep me waiting. But when I confronted her, when I raised my voice at her, she didn't flinch. She didn't complain. She just apologized. nicely.
Although her eyes said otherwise.
Beneath all that self restraint was a flicker of something hotter. Not fear, not guilt. It was anger.
Maybe she was upset with me. More like she was upset that she had had to apologize at all. Like she knew she wasn't wrong but did it anyway.
Most people try to shrink themselves in my presence but she didn't. And that annoyed and yet fascinated me.
I took a sip of the scotch even though I didn't need it. It still tasted like crap.
I set it down and stepped across the room, pressed the secret switch beneath the bookshelf ledge and it made a soft click, then the control panel extended.
I entered the code and the clinic feed came up.
There she was. She entered with Marco. Alessandro was already pale, struggling to breathe. Marco was restless but Francesca did not panic. She moved through like no one else was there. Hands in swift motion, eyes searching for any leads.
She didn't hesitate. I watched her brush her fingers down Alessandro's jaw line, check his pulse, raise his chin up a fraction. Not a single wasted movement. She spotted something and dished out swift orders to Marco.
Most doctors would've checked twice or even hesitated.
But she didn't.
There was something about this girl. This is not something you learn in school. That could only be learnt from repeated experience. The type that comes with seeing real emergencies, where life and death were decided by the passing seconds.
I frowned. What I was seeing didn't align with her file. Top level surgical consultant. Minimally invasive expert. Elective. Clean.
What I was seeing on the screen was not neat or in her control. It was chaos, and she cut through it like it was her area of expertise.
I paused the video.
Her face froze on the screen sharp, unreadable, expressionless in the way that only trained people become. As if she'd taught herself not to react. As if she'd seen worse than this.
Francesca was good and she knew her worth. That was clear from the very moment she entered my home with nothing to prove but somehow commanded the room.
Individuals like her always had agendas. And I did not trust people with hidden agendas. Did she have an agenda?
A sudden knock broke my chain of thoughts. "Come in," I said without looking up.
The door opened and Marco walked in. Coat slung over arm, phone still in hand. His face was grim, but steady. I knew that look. It was the look that announced results.
He closed the door softly behind him. "We've got it." I turned from the screen. "You're sure?"
He nodded once. "Yes. I double checked. It's solid intel. Cross checked by two different sources."
I glanced at his face for a moment. Marco was never the type to leave me to my speculation. If he said something was locked in, it was.
"How'd you get it?" I asked, softly.
"It took some pressure," he replied, clenching jaw. "Not everyone walked out of the conversation."
I let that sit between us.I knew exactly what that meant. "Where is it?" I eventually asked. He told me where. I nodded once.
"How many men?
"Seven, all of them well-armed. The neighborhood is peaceful tonight, no external security." He was straightforward with his words, one of the only things I liked about a man.
But something in his expression told me there was more. "You're keeping something from me."
Marco hesitated before he edged in closer. "It's not just about what they did, boss. It's who they worked for."
I stared at him. "Do you have names?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. But if this is what we think it is, it's bigger than expected."
I breathed slowly. "Good."
Marco raised an eyebrow.
"If it's big," I said, "then it's worth fighting on a personal level."
There was a moment of silence as Marco stared at me looking a bit confused. Ignoring his countenance, I let out the order he had been waiting for.
"Gather the boys. We leave in five."