POV: MARCO
The secondary office at Valentino Enterprises was exactly what it appeared to be, a legitimate workspace for corporate operations. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. Mahogany furniture that cost more than most people's homes. Multiple monitors displaying financial data and market analysis.
What it actually was: a command center for building false identities.
Marco had been awake for thirty-six hours.
The scotch in his hand was his fourth or maybe fifth, he'd stopped counting a long time ago and it was doing absolutely nothing to cut through the exhaustion that was starting to make his vision blur at the edges.
But he couldn't stop.
Not when James was day eleven into a fourteen-day countdown. Not when Dimitri was about to walk into the most dangerous operation of his life. Not when the window to establish credentials was closing by the minute.
