It’s hours later when someone knocks on my door. I look up from the stacks of papers and books that I’ve been going through and stare at the door cautiously. I pray to God that it’s just my assistant because, after the morning I’ve had, I am in no mood for any more surprises.
“Who is it?” I call out.
The door opens, and I nearly fall out of my chair when Matteo steps inside with a smile on his face and a plastic bag in his hand. He saunters right in like he owns the place, and I do my best to keep from slamming my head into my desk right then and there. I’ve had more than my fill of mafia men for today.
And this lifetime.
“Got a minute?” Matteo asks, all politely, like he hadn’t already barged into my office.
“No,” I say. “I’m very busy.” I wave my hand in a shooing motion. “Out,
