The office was quiet when Mila came back from grabbing something to eat and a coffee from the company lounge.
Dante had been at his desk for a while, his midnight black jacket draped over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up as he buried himself in paperwork. Mila didn't know what to expect from the man, but being so... meticulous... at work was definitely not part of it.
Papers were spread across the surface in front of him: reports, contracts, spreadsheets marked with red ink, to the point where just looking at them was giving her a headache. He didn't look up when she entered, just gestured toward the small table near the window where she'd been working the day before.
Nodding her head, not willing to break the silence, Mila set her coffee and muffin down on her desk and took her seat. The stack of files waiting for her had grown overnight.
Someone (Dante) had added even more folders to the pile, each one labeled with dates and account numbers. Letting out a soft sigh, she pulled the first one toward her and opened it, scanning the contents.
More financial records. More transactions. More names she didn't recognize attached to numbers that didn't make sense without context.
Letting out yet another sigh, she got to work.
The morning passed just as it had started in silence and in paperwork.
No matter what Dante was doing, Mila made sure to keep her head down. She cross-referenced account numbers, flagged discrepancies, and made notes in the margins. The work was tedious, but it kept her mind occupied... kept herself from thinking about the disaster of last night's dinner.
She really had to get over her issues so that she didn't take things out on men who didn't deserve it.
Around ten, the door opened.
Victoria stepped inside, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a small plate of pastries. She was dressed impeccably again, a navy skirt, white blouse, and navy heels with red soles that clicked against the floor as she crossed the room.
Her smile was bright and professional as she set the tray down on Dante's desk.
"Good morning, Mr. Falcone. I thought you might need some coffee." She glanced toward Mila, and her smile tightened just slightly. "And for Miss Hart, of course."
"Thank you, Victoria," Dante replied without looking up from his papers.
Victoria lingered, her hands folded in front of her. "Is there anything else I can help with? I have some time this morning if you need assistance with the reports. You don't have to worry, I know exactly how you prefer them to be."
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? I know how much you have on your plate right now. I'd be happy to—"
"I'm fine, Victoria." For a brief moment, Dante looked at her, with a flash of anger in his eyes. "If you are really that bored, go ask Vincenzo if you can help him."
The words were firm. Final. Victoria's smile didn't falter, but something flickered in her eyes. Disappointment, maybe. Or frustration. She nodded once, smoothed her hands over her skirt, and turned toward the door.
"I think I have enough stuff to do at my desk. Just let me know if you need anything."
She left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Mila reached for one of the coffee cups and took a sip. It was strong, bitter. She set it down with a wrinkle of her nose and went back to her files.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened again, only this time, it was Vincenzo.
He stepped inside with the ease of someone who belonged there, his suit perfectly tailored and his expression calm. He carried a leather portfolio under one arm, and when he saw Dante, his face softened into a smile.
"Morning, Dante. Tell me you got some sleep last night."
Dante looked up, and the tension in his shoulders eased immediately. "Uncle, I didn't know you were coming by."
"Thought I'd check in, see how your morning's going." Vincenzo crossed the room and set his portfolio on the edge of Dante's desk. "You've been working yourself too hard. I don't want you burning out."
"I'm fine."
"You always say that," Vincenzo replied with a soft smile as he pulled one of the chairs closer and sat down. "But I know you. You take too much on yourself. You always have. You have an entire company of people who hang on your every word. You need to start delegating more."
Dante didn't argue. He just set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on his uncle. "Does that mean I can start ordering you around?"
"You are still much too young to do that," chuckled Vincenzo with a shake of his head. "But I am willing to help wherever I can. I need to make sure you're not drowning." Vincenzo gestured to the papers spread across the desk. "What's the situation?"
Dante exhaled slowly. "The Singapore shipment is delayed. The port authority is asking questions I don't have have answers to yet. Marco's working on it, but it's taking longer than I'd like."
"Do you need me to make some calls?"
"Not yet. I want to see what Marco turns up first."
Vincenzo nodded. "What about the alliances? Have you heard back from the Rossi family?"
"They're interested. But they want assurances. They don't trust that we can hold our territory with the recent moves being made."
"Who's making moves?"
"Someone new. I don't have a name yet, but they've been pushing into the east side. Small operations, nothing major, but it's enough to make people nervous. It's enough to make me sit up and take notice."
Vincenzo was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair, his gaze distant. "You need to show strength. Not aggression, we don't need dead bodies on the street, but we need to let them know that you're aware of what's happening and that you're not going to let it slide."
"I've been considering that."
"Good. But don't move too fast. If you push too hard, you'll escalate things before you're ready. You need information first. Find out who's behind it, what they want, and whether they're worth negotiating with or eliminating."
Dante nodded slowly. "What would you do?"
Vincenzo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I'd send someone to make contact. Not Marco—he's too visible. Someone quieter. Someone who can ask questions without drawing attention. Feel them out. See if they're looking for a fight or just testing boundaries."
"And if they're looking for a fight?"
"Then you give them one. But on your terms, not theirs."
Dante was quiet, his gaze fixed on his uncle. There was something in his expression that Mila hadn't seen before. Deference...trust. The kind of trust that came from years of relying on someone's judgment.
Of knowing they had your back.
For a moment she wondered what that would feel like... to trust someone that much.
"I'll think about it." Dante picked up his pen again, tapping it against the desk. "What about the Rossi family? Do you think they'll come around?"
"They will if you give them a reason to. Show them you're stable. That you're not going to fold under pressure. They're cautious, but they're not stupid. They know an alliance with you is worth more than sitting on the sidelines."
"And if they don't?"
"Then you move on. There are other families. Other alliances. Don't waste time chasing people who don't see your value."
Dante nodded again, and the tension in his posture eased further. He looked more relaxed now than he had all morning. More certain.
Vincenzo leaned back in his chair, his gaze moving between Dante and the papers on the desk. "You're handling this well. Better than I expected, honestly. But you need to stay sharp. Keep your eyes open."
"I will."
"Good." Vincenzo glanced at his watch. "I'm thinking about grabbing lunch around noon. You should join me. We can talk through the Rossi situation more, figure out your next move."
"Sounds good."
Vincenzo turned when he noticed Mila sitting at the table near the window. He stood and crossed toward her, his expression warm.
"Mila." He nodded to her, his voice warm. "How's the work coming along?"
"It's detailed, but manageable," Mila sighed as she looked up from her file.
"Good. Dante's lucky to have someone competent helping him." Vincenzo glanced back at Dante. "Don't work her too hard."
"I won't."
Vincenzo left the office soon after and Mila dismissed the entire conversation. She had bigger things to work out than how someone could trust another that much.