She opened the box.
I know because the device came online at 16:42.
I don't look at the screen immediately when Matteo informs me.
I finish signing the contract in front of me first.
Timing matters.
"Active?" I ask.
"Yes."
Location stable. Residential building. No unusual movement.
Good.
I told myself the phone was a precaution.
A direct line is cleaner. More secure.
Easier to manage.
It has nothing to do with curiosity.
Matteo watches me for a moment, "Do you expect a call?"
"If she is polite, yes."
"Alright."
"But if she isn't, then she is intelligent."
He nods once, and I excuse him from the office.
I allow myself to glance at the monitor.
Her location hasn't shifted.
She hasn't used the contact yet.
Interesting.
Most people would call immediately.
Gratitude makes people predictable.
She does not strike me as predictable.
At 18:07, the phone registers movement.
She leaves her apartment.
Alone, I assume.
I lean back slightly in my chair.
"Signore, I'd like to inform you that the girl just stepped out from her apartment," Matteo says from the doorway.
"I see that."
He doesn't ask how I know.
No escort.
No one is waiting downstairs.
The street she's taking isn't unsafe, but it isn't careful either.
I pick up my phone.
"Have someone positioned two blocks out," I say.
"Visible?"
"No."
Matteo nods and disappears again.
This is not surveillance.
This is prevention.
If anyone connects her to me, she becomes leverage.
And leverage is removed quickly in my world.
The phone in my hand vibrates.
Unknown number.
But I don't need it to identify her.
I let it ring once.
Twice.
I answer on the third.
"Si."
A brief pause.
Then her voice.
"I assume this is efficient."
Calm. Controlled. Slightly irritated.
I allow myself the smallest exhale, "Yes."
"I was calling to say thank you," she says, "For the chocolates, flowers, and the… phone."
"They were appropriate."
A beat of silence, "You don't do subtle, do you?"
"I do," I reply evenly, "When necessary."
She hums softly, not impressed, not intimidated.
"I don't like feeling handled."
That almost makes me smile, "You are not being handled."
Not yet.
Another pause.
She's walking while we speak.
I can hear the faint echo of traffic behind her.
"You assume I'd call," she says finally.
"No," I answer truthfully, "I prepared in case you did."
Silence.
She wasn't expecting that.
Good.
"I only called to say thank you," she says again, softer this time.
"And now that you have?"
"I'm reconsidering."
I rest my elbow against the desk, "You are free to do so."
She exhales quietly.
"You're very calm."
"I prefer clarity."
"And what is clear to you?"
"That you are cautious."
A small pause.
"And?"
"And that you did not need to help me."
She doesn't answer immediately.
I watch the blue dot move along the street.
She's nearing the intersection.
"Maybe I don't like leaving problems unfinished," she says.
I understand that.
I end problems permanently.
"That can be dangerous," I reply.
"So can sleeping in alleyways," she says dryly.
There it is.
Sharp.
Controlled.
I almost laugh. Almost.
When she reaches her building again, the dot stops moving.
"I should go," she says.
"Yes."
Another beat.
"Goodnight, Luca."
She says my name like she's testing it, "Buona notte."
The line goes silent.
I remain seated for a moment.
Matteo steps back into the room.
"She returned home, Signore."
"I know. Just update me if something happened, I know where she is."
He studies me briefly.
"Shall we reduce monitoring?"
I look at the screen one last time, "No, just keep the distance."