Page 138 of Ruined By Blood
"Did the Sartori meeting go well?" he asks, though he already knows from my report last night.
"Vittoria seemed impressed with the security upgrades. Riccardo signed off on the expansion."
"And Sienna? She handled herself well?"
I can't help the pride that surges through me. "Better than well. She charmed them completely."
Damiano nods, satisfied. "She's adapting."
"She's thriving," I correct him. The broken girl from the fountain is gone. In her place stands a woman who wakes up every day stronger than before.
"Good." He takes a sip of his whiskey, then sets the glass down with purpose. "We have a shipment coming in from Mexico next week. Electronics, primarily, but some specialty items buried beneath. Need someone to oversee the transfer."
My mind immediately shifts to logistics. "Port security?"
"Handled. But I need someone I trust on the ground. Someone who can manage any complications."
I think about the schedule, who's available, who's best suited. "Noah," I say without hesitation. "He's not tasked with much these days. Since the Sterling situation was resolved, he's been handling routine security."
Damiano sips his whiskey, studying me over the rim of his glass. "I figured you'd suggest yourself. You always manage the Mexican shipments."
"Noah's more than capable," I say with a shrug. "Besides, I've got that charity event with Sienna next week."
"The photography exhibition," Damiano nods. "Good. You're learning to delegate."
I raise an eyebrow. "I've always delegated."
"No," Damiano laughs, "you've always micromanaged. There's a difference. You're the one who always needs to know who is where, doing what, at all times."
He's not wrong. I like control. Need it, even. But things are different now. Sienna changed that.
"I'll call Noah," I say, pulling out my phone.
I dial his number, and it rings three times before he picks up. In the background, I hear what sounds like a soprano hitting a high note, accompanied by a full orchestra.
"Feretti," Noah answers, his voice low.
"Where the hell are you?" I ask, frowning. "Is that opera?"
There's a pause, a rustle of movement. The music fades slightly.
"TV," Noah says flatly. "What do you need?"
I glance at Damiano, who's watching me with amusement. "Mexican shipment next week. Electronics with specialty items. I need you to oversee the transfer at the port."
"Details?"
"I'll send them to your secure email. Tuesday night, probably around midnight."
"Done." Noah's voice gives nothing away. "Anything else?"
"No. Just be thorough."
"Always am." He hangs up without another word.
I pocket my phone, shaking my head. "TV my ass. That was live music."
Damiano laughs, leaning back in his chair. "You know, Noah's shown surprising taste in music lately. Ever since my wedding when that violinist performed."
