Rookie move, Tony. I make a mental note to retrain him on basic surveillance protocols.
Elena takes another bite of pasta. Chews thoughtfully. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be watching me, you seem pretty impressed by my escape methods."
"Impressed isn't the word I'd use."
"No? What word would you use?"
"Concerned. Frustrated. Occasionally homicidal when I think about what could've happened."
She rolls her eyes but she's still smiling. "I can take care of myself."
"So you keep saying."
The conversation flows easily after that. She tells me about a book she's reading—some romance novel with a plot that sounds ridiculous but she defends passionately. I tell her about a job Vito and I handled years ago that went sideways in the most absurd way possible. She laughs in all the right places.
This is nice. Easy. The kind of normal I didn't think we could have.
But I need answers. And this might be my best chance to get them while she's relaxed.
"Have you heard from your dad?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.
The shift is immediate. Her fork clatters against her plate. The ease drains from her expression.
"No." She wipes her mouth with her napkin. I can see the frustration building. "It's like he doesn't even care that we haven't spoken."
"Has he ever disappeared for extended periods before?"
She's quiet for a moment. Pushes pasta around her plate. "The longest he's ever gone without calling me is six months, and that was only because..." She stops. That wall slams back up between us.
"Because what?" I lean forward slightly. This feels like a breakthrough. Like she might actually trust me enough to tell me the truth.
"It doesn't matter why." Her voice goes flat. "It only matters that he swore he'd never do it again, and here we are... it's happening... again."
I can feel her shutting down. See it in the way she won't meet my eyes anymore. "Elena?—"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"If you'd just tell me what's going on?—"
"Why?" She looks up at me then. There's something raw in her expression. "So you can report it to Vito? So the whole family can know my business?"
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" She pushes back from the table. "You said it yourself, Marco. I'm just a job to you."
The words hit harder than they should. "I never said?—"
"You did. When I asked if I was just a job, you said yes. No hesitation." She stands, grabbing her plate. "So forgive me if I don't feel like sharing my deepest secrets with my babysitter."
Frustration builds in my chest. We were having a good moment. A real moment. And now she's using my own words against me like a weapon.
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" She's at the sink now, her back to me. "Because from where I'm standing, you've made it pretty clear where the line is."
I stand too. Walk over to her. "The line exists because it has to. You're Rina's cousin. You're family. And you're in danger. That's what matters."
"Right." She rinses her plate with more force than necessary. "Family. A job. Same thing, apparently."
