15
Damian clickedthrough the last page of data and leaned back in the desk chair as he turned his eyes to the operation on the other side of the glass wall. Farrell hadn’t been kidding; Christophe Marchand’s cyber lab was something tobehold.
Damian had worked tirelessly to set up his own digital operation when he’d first gotten involved with organized crime in New York. He’d learned his financial prowess from the success of his father, but the digital revolution was just beginning at the time of his father’sdeath.
That part of Damian’s organization had beenallhim.
To ignore the value of cold, hard data — and the ability to manipulate it — in this day and age was to resign yourself to the dustbin ofhistory.
And Damian wasn’t about todothat.
But other than a handful of experts in Tribeca, his digital operation was decentralized, comprised of some of the best hackers in the world, all of them spread out and operating independently of each other, answerable only toDamian.
It had seemed smart at the time, a way to ensure each programmer had only enough information to compete a given task without enough information to do Damian any realdamage.
That had been before Aria, before the Syndicate, back when Damian had prided himself on working alone. When his isolation had seemed like a strength rather than aweakness.
Watching the hum of activity outside the office provided to him by Christophe, he couldn’t help wondering if maybe times were changing yet again. Damian wasn’t resistant to change. Contrary to popular belief, survival of the fittest wasn’t predicated on strength — it was predicated onadaptability.
Adapt or die. That was Damian’smotto.
One of themanyway.
The Syndicate’s operation had given him another window into his business and the many possibilities for conducting it. Where Damian saw his independence as a strength, the leaders of the Syndicate found strength in numbers. Inunity.
It was hard to argue the point after the show of force during Aria’s rescue in Athens, the many options for shelter they’d been given afterward; Nico had offered any one of his private homes and Christophe had offered his old family estate in Corsica before Damian had chosen Farrell’s compound in Tuscany for its isolation and proximity toGreece.
And now there was the data to consider, mountainsofit.
He returned his eyes to the screen in front of him, a photograph of a beefy, mustached man next to a long list of details — his name, his date of birth, his known addresses, rap sheets in more than ten countries, and affiliations, familial andotherwise.
Damian had spent the morning poring over information on countless men like him as well as the details of Stefano Anastos’s stronghold in New York. At first, Damian didn’t know what he’d been looking for. Raw data was like that — meaningless until you had a strategy forusingit.
It was an organic process, one Damian had come to trust. HIs knowledge was always there. He trusted it to coalesce into something meaningful when the right conditions presentedthemselves.
He’d been about halfway through the data on Anastos’s businesses in New York when an idea had started to form. He was still working through the details, but it was there, slowly evolving into a workable strategy in the algorithms ofhismind.
He ran a hand through his hair, let his gaze travel to the rooftops of Paris beyond the old factory windows of the cyber lab. He’d left Aria asleep at the hotel, and he tried to picture her curled up on the sofa in the suite with a book, or maybe watching one of the old movies she liked in the suite’sluxuriousbed.
The last three days had been his every fantasy realized, hour upon hour spent exploring each other’s bodies, talking about all the things they hadn’t had time to share before she’d been taken from Italy, sharing all the memories they’d both held too close for too long. After their first two days shopping, he’d headed to Christophe’s lab to begin compiling the information he would need to take back New York, leaving Aria to the recuperation she desperatelyneeded.
The morning before had been spent getting the lay of the land inside Christophe’s system. He’d spent the afternoon showing Aria Paris proper, complete with a river tour of the Seine and a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower. He once would have balked at the obvious tourist traps, but it was impossible not to be happy seeing the look of wonder on her face as they’d drifted dreamily past the cafes and kiosks on the banks of the river, as they’d looked out over the picturesque rooftops ofParis.
It was like seeing the city for the first time. No, better than the first time. The first time he’d seen Paris, he’d already been damaged and cynical. This was different, like seeing it through the eyes of a child. It was a revelation, a glimpse at possibilities he’d thought lost to himforever.
He hated to leave her alone for even a minute— especially given the nightmares that still haunted her sleep — but there was still the New York territory to deal with. The Syndicate had come through for him with Aria. He would do the same for them. Even more important, he would make Malcolm, Primo, and Stefano Anastos pay for what they’d donetoAria.
He reached for his phone as it buzzed in hispocket.
“Cole,” he said. “Iseverythingokay?”
He’d left Cole at the hotel with instructions to keep an eye on Aria from afar. He didn’t have any reason to think Primo or Malcolm knew they were in Paris, but better safe thansorry.
“Depends on your definition,” Cole said. “She just left thehotel.”
Damian sat upstraighter. “Aria?”
“Yep.”