Diego's POV

It had been thirty minutes since Santo and I arrived the Hotel Paradiso, and ten minutes since Armando Milanesi pulled into the circular driveway of the grand Italian-style hotel, climbed out of his ostentatious yellow Ferrari, and sauntered into the lobby with a brooding man close on his heels.

Santo glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ‘til the meeting.”

“What do you think?” I nodded.

“I think just because it seems legit, doesn’t mean it’s going to be,” he ...