Pedro's POV
Pedro leaned back in his chair, watching his team shuffle papers and type at their computers. Milan's late morning sunlight poured through the office windows, but his attention wasn't on the city. It was on the little buzz he'd caught earlier a whisper about a French intern. Élise Dupont.
He had been reviewing the monthly reports when one of the boutique staff members he was in contact with a manager from a luxury store where he had minor investments called him unexpectedly. Pedro didn't usually pick up random calls about retail, but this one had a peculiar urgency in the voice.
"Pedro, I hope I'm not bothering you," the manager said, his voice low and nervous. "I… need to tell you about something that happened yesterday. A young French woman… I think her name is Élise, came in with a friend, and… well, there was a situation."
Pedro leaned forward, elbows on the polished desk, steepling his fingers. "Go on. I'm listening."
