Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80
“I need an office, Victor. Would you like to share something locally?”
“We can’t integrate any part of our businesses, honey. First, I don’t need infrastructure in Florence, and second, you should never share your offices, staff, or project work with anyone.”
“Including you?”
“Of course, we can share everything, but nobody in my employ should have any insight into your business. If you mix them, my staff and yours will gossip, and before you know it, every bar and restaurant within a mile radius is discussing your plans.”
“I see.”
My fiancee had offered me more sage advice without alienating or compromising our love, but it felt cold. I was making a permanent office arrangement in New York but needed a temporary place where Stanza could work, communicating with Kyle and Gabriella without puncturing our domestic bliss at the apartment.
Stanza quickly found a solution: a small, three-desk office in a work hub that rented space by the week. She bought the phone, computer, and accessories she needed from a nearby, well-equipped IT store, presenting me with an expense invoice, confirming I had recruited a highly effective colleague.