“I’ll have access to the money right away? Myallowance.”
“Right away.” He gestures to the folder.
“Can he stop paying it?” she asks him.
“I won’t,” I answer before Brady can open his mouth.
I watch her jaw tighten, but she nods, then stuffs the envelope into a large tote she’d brought with her. I turn to Brady. “Work on all site stops today. You put the word out yet?”
“What?” Vittoria asks.
“Construction is paused until further notice,” I tell her.
She studies me, but I turn to Brady and raise my eyebrows, waiting for his response.
“There are quite a few sites, Mr. Caballero. It will take time.”
“But you’ve got it under control?”
“Yes, sir,” he says, clearly not pleased. I could give a fuck.
“Good.” I turn to Vittoria. “Bruno will take you to the airport,” I take the keys to the penthouse and stand.
She recognizes the keys. “I want to go home first. To the penthouse.”
“I want to get a few things for Emma and myself. And see it again. Maybe for the last time.”
“That’s dramatic,” Bastian mutters from where he’s leaning against the wall.
She doesn’t acknowledge his comment. I look at Bruno. “Will that work?” We have a time slot at the airport. If we miss it, it will delay us for a few hours.
He checks his watch. “Should. We’ve got an hour.”
Brady clears his throat. “A word, Mr. Caballero.”
“Right now? We’re a little pressed for time.”
“It won’t take long.”
“Fine. We’ll meet you at the penthouse,” I tell Bruno, tossing him the keys. He nods and takes Vittoria out.
Once they’re gone, Brady dismisses the assistant who is taking notes and waits until the door is closed to turn his gaze to me. He’s an intelligent man. And from the way he’s talked to Vittoria, I think he is concerned for her welfare. Still, there’s something about him I don’t like. But that’s probably my untrusting nature. Most people can’t be trusted. I know this.
I make a point of checking my watch.
“I want to tell you something that may be overstepping the parameters of my role, but given what I know and how things stand, I feel it is my duty to Ms. Russo.” He shakes his head. “Mrs. Caballero.”
“Go on, Mr. Brady,” I say.
He walks to the window, and I’m not sure he’s going to continue until he turns back around and returns to his desk.
“Mr. Russo loved that girl. She was a bright light in a sometimes dreary life.”
“Perhaps it was dreary for the choices he made, Mr. Brady. I thought I was here to sign papers, but if you’re going to waste my time singing that man’s praises…” I start, standing. I’m not going to sit here and listen to him glorify Geno Russo as if he were some fucking saint.