The e-mail

Vincenzo’s POV

My penthouse office was silent except for the steady, maddening tick of the wall clock. Arturo stepped up to my mahogany desk and placed a thin manila folder right in the center. The soft slap of the paper against the wood echoed in the massive room.

"That is everything we could gather in forty-eight hours," Arturo said. He kept his tone careful, his posture rigid. "She covered he