POV: Tristan
It was Monday afternoon and the city stretched endlessly beyond the glass walls of my office, but my attention stayed on the file in front of me.
Connor sat across from me, flipping through his tablet as he spoke.
“Don Philipe says he has some goods he wants shipped to Italy.”
I didn’t look up immediately.
“What kind of goods?”
Connor shrugged slightly.
“I’m still waiting for him to submit a manifest. Once he does, I’ll bring it to you.”
That made me look up.
“Don Philipe is trouble,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “Make sure you double check everything.”
Connor nodded.
“I will.”
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table.
“And I don’t mean just the manifest. I want the actual cargo checked too.”
His eyes sharpened slightly.
“If there are sealed
