10. Carlito

Chapter 10

Carlito

The Venetian Rooftop Terrace hums with life, the polished stone tiles gleaming under the late morning sun. Vendors and staff move with purpose, unpacking crates and arranging the space according to Mia’s meticulous designs. The once-empty venue is transforming, every detail a reflection of her vision and the high stakes of tomorrow’s gala.

I step onto the terrace unannounced, my eyes sweeping over the activity. Near the center, Mia stands with a small group of decorators, her hazel eyes focused as she gestures toward a centerpiece display. Her calm yet commanding presence stands out against the bustle, a sharp contrast to the frantic energy I’ve encountered from less capable planners in the past.

“Mia,” I call out.

She turns, her expression shifting as she recognizes me. A faint smile touches her lips before she tucks it away, her professional demeanor slipping into place.

“Carlito,” she says, her voice steady as she approaches. “You’re early.”

“I like to see things before they’re finished,” I reply, letting my gaze drift across the terrace. “Easier to spot problems that way.”

Her brow arches slightly, a subtle challenge in her expression. “So far, the problems have been minimal. We’re ahead of schedule.”

“Good,” I say, my attention lingering on the skyline for a moment before returning to her. “Leo’s still looking into that man you mentioned from the vendor meeting.”

Her faint smile fades, replaced by a shadow of concern. “Any leads?”

“Not yet,” I admit. “But we’ve tightened security. You’re safe here, Mia.”

Her shoulders ease, but only slightly. “Thank you,” she says softly. “That’s... reassuring.”

I nod, noting the resilience in her tone. She’s stepped into a world of power and danger without truly understanding the stakes, yet she holds her ground.

---

The terrace is alive with coordinated chaos as Mia leads me through the walkthrough. Her voice cuts through the commotion, steady and sure, as she outlines the details. We pause near the bar setup, where staff arrange rows of gleaming glassware.

“This placement ensures easy access for guests while keeping the flow natural,” she explains, gesturing to the layout. “We’ll use accent lighting to draw attention without overwhelming the design.”

“Practical,” I say, scanning the setup. “You’ve accounted for guest traffic patterns?”

She nods, her confidence evident. “Based on the guest list, there should be minimal congestion.”

“Good.”

A faint curve of satisfaction touches her lips at my response, though she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she straightens her blazer and moves on, pointing out the entertainment area and seating arrangements.

Her poise impresses me. Though I sense traces of nervous energy beneath her polished exterior, she carries herself with an assurance that I rarely see in people navigating this kind of pressure.

The walkthrough flows smoothly until a commotion near the vendor entrance interrupts the rhythm. A truckload of deliveries has bottlenecked at the loading area, crates spilling into the pathway. A flustered staff member waves his arms, helpless as the scene escalates.

“I’ll handle this,” Mia says, her tone firm.

Before I can respond, she strides toward the chaos, leaving me to watch her with growing interest.

Mia moves quickly, her heels clicking against the stone tiles as she approaches the delivery area. The harried staff member steps aside, relief flickering across his face when she takes charge.

“What’s the issue?” she asks, her voice calm but commanding.

“The crates weren’t labeled properly,” he stammers, gesturing toward the cluster of boxes blocking the path. “We didn’t realize they were for separate vendors until—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, her tone decisive. “Let’s clear a path first, then sort out the labels. Focus on what’s urgent.”

She crouches to inspect one of the crates, scanning the small, misaligned label. Her brow furrows as she mutters something to herself, then she turns to the staff. “Bring me a dolly. We’ll relocate the misplaced boxes to the secondary holding area for now.”

The staff member hesitates but nods, hurrying off to retrieve the equipment. I step closer, staying just out of the way but observing her intently. She doesn’t notice me watching—or if she does, she pretends not to. Her focus is entirely on solving the problem.

When the dolly arrives, Mia wastes no time directing the staff to reposition the crates. Despite the chaos, her tone remains calm, her instructions clear. Within minutes, the path is cleared, the flow of deliveries resuming as if the disruption never happened.

She exhales softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. There’s a faint flush to her cheeks, a sign of the energy she’s poured into fixing the situation.

“Efficient,” I say, stepping forward.

Her head snaps up, her hazel eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, she looks surprised, as if she forgot I was there. “It was a minor issue,” she says, straightening her blazer.

“Minor issues can derail major events,” I reply. “You handled it well.”

She hesitates, her lips curving into a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you.”

I notice the way her hand lingers on the crate she steadied, as if she’s anchoring herself. Stepping closer, I place a hand on the same crate, the briefest contact sparking something between us.

Mia looks away quickly, tucking her notepad under her arm as she pivots back toward the terrace. “Shall we continue?”

---

We walk the length of the terrace, her confidence returning with each step. She points out the adjustments she’s made since our last visit—the refined layout of the seating arrangements, the repositioned lighting to highlight the skyline.

“This will be the main photo area,” she explains, gesturing toward an arch of cascading floral arrangements framing the cityscape. “It’s designed to draw guests toward the view while keeping the flow of the event natural.”

“It’s bold,” I say, studying the design. “But it works.”

A flicker of surprise crosses her face, quickly replaced by satisfaction. “I thought so too.”

As we near the terrace edge, I catch a faint breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut flowers. Mia pauses, her gaze sweeping over the venue. There’s a quiet pride in her expression, tempered by the weight of responsibility.

“It’s coming together,” she says softly, almost to herself.

“It is,” I agree, stepping beside her. “You’ve done well, Mia.”

She turns to me, her hazel eyes searching mine. There’s something unspoken in her gaze, a vulnerability she doesn’t often show. “I just want it to be perfect.”

“It will be,” I say, my tone softer than I intend. “Because you made it that way.”

Her lips part slightly, but whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by a gust of wind sending a stray piece of paper fluttering across the terrace. She laughs lightly, the tension breaking, and bends to retrieve it.

When she stands, the moment has passed, but its weight lingers.

As the walkthrough draws to a close, the terrace settles into a steady rhythm. Vendors continue their work, but the earlier sense of chaos has ebbed, replaced by a calm efficiency that mirrors Mia’s leadership.

She turns toward me, flipping through her notepad. “That’s everything for now. The rest of the setup will be finalized tomorrow morning, but I’ll be here early to oversee it personally.”

“Good,” I say, noting the determination in her voice. “This is your vision, Mia. See it through.”

Her gaze softens at my words, but she quickly refocuses, her pen tapping lightly against the edge of her notepad. “Is there anything else you’d like to review while we’re here?”

“No,” I reply, glancing once more at the terrace. “You’ve covered everything.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, the tension she’s carried throughout the day easing just a fraction. Still, I can see the questions flickering behind her eyes, though she doesn’t voice them.

“Tomorrow will test you,” I say, stepping closer. Her breath catches, though she keeps her expression neutral. “Stay alert, stay professional, and trust your instincts. You’ve earned this.”

She hesitates, then nods, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us, the hum of activity around us fading into the background. I’m reminded of how much she doesn’t know—about me, about the risks surrounding this gala. About how much more complicated her life is about to become.

“Mia,” I begin, my voice quieter now.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting.

Before I can continue, Leo’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and efficient. “Carlito.”

I turn to see him waiting near the terrace entrance, his expression unreadable but his presence a reminder of the responsibilities I can’t ignore.

“I’ll leave you to finish here,” I say, stepping back.

Mia watches me for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, but she simply nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I glance back as I leave the terrace, taking in the way the sunlight catches her hair, the way she stands tall despite the pressure bearing down on her.

---

Leo falls into step beside me as we descend the staircase, his tone low and measured. “Everything is progressing as expected. But there’s still no update on the man she saw.”

“Keep looking,” I say curtly. “I want to know who he is and why he’s here.”

Leo nods, his silence conveying more than words ever could. He knows the stakes as well as I do—knows what’s at risk if this gala goes wrong.

As we reach the ground floor, I pause, my gaze drifting back toward the terrace. Mia’s shadow is visible against the skyline, a reminder of how much has shifted since she stepped into my life.

“This is the final push,” I murmur, more to myself than to Leo. “Tomorrow, Mia is in for the surprise of her life and I hope she doesn’t let me down.”