A Six-Year-Old In My Kitchens Told Me Not To Eat The Bread Because She Had Watched Someone Do Something To The Butter. By Sunrise I Knew Which Romano Had Sent Him Through My Own Service Gate

I had survived two kidnapping threats, three hostile takeovers and ten years of people who wanted Romano Maritime more than they wanted me alive, and none of it ever got past the gate. What got through was a block of butter on a silver dish. The only warning I received came from Sofia's little girl, who was six years old, who was holding a cloth doll, and who called me sir because that is what the staff's children were taught to call me.