She flinches again, then clears her throat. “He doesn’t know.”
“And if he did? Would that offer to leave still be on the table?” I ask. “Or would he haveothersolutions in mind?”
Caterina’s jaw tightens. “I’m the one who hired you,” she says. “I’m responsible for you.”
“That’s not an answer, Cat,” I say.
“It’s the only one I can give you without making promises I can’t control,” she admits. “My father protects the Familyfirst. If he thought you were a threat, he’d move fast. But he knows he’d lose a brother and a daughter in the process. He already lost one daughter for a long time, and things are still shaky there. He wouldn’t risk it again.”
I stare at her. “You’re asking me to bet my life on family dynamics I’m not part of.”
“I’m asking you to bet on me,” she says, pleading. “On the friend who dragged you to midnight tacos, who let you cry on my bed after that awful internship, who begged you to come build something with me. Not on my last name. On me.”
I press my knuckles to the edge of the table until they ache. “And if I can’t?”
“Then you can’t,” she says, throat tight. “And I’ll have you out of town by tonight, somewhere he can’t reach.”
“And you can do that? Just make me disappear?”
“If you want me to,” she says.
I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t want to run, Cat,” I say, suddenly exhausted. “But I don’t want to die because I trusted the wrong people.”
“Just give me some time,” she says. “Don’t make a decision right away.”
I sigh, my chest burning.
Caterina’s phone rings.
She glances at the screen. “I’m sorry. It’s one of my brothers.” She swipes to answer. “Nico? I—” Her face drains. “What? When?” She paces two steps, listening. “Which hospital? Is he— No, I’m here. I’m coming.”
She ends the call with a hard tap, breathing fast. “I have to go.”
“What happened?”
Her mouth opens, closes. “My uncle. Hospital.” The words stumble out. “He’s—he’s hurt.”
Ice grips my spine. “Roberto?”
She shakes her head, throat working. “Antonio. My uncle Antonio. He was shot.” She’s moving already, snatching her bag with unsteady hands. “I have to go.”
“I’ll drive you,” I say.
She starts to argue. “Olivia—”
“Don’t.” I grab my keys. “I’m coming.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Roberto
The sliding doors part, and I move fast, the antiseptic bite of the lobby catching in my throat. I cut to the desk.
“Antonio Conti,” I say.
The receptionist’s eyes flick to her screen, then to my face. “He was taken straight to surgery. Third floor OR. Family’s in the surgical waiting area.”
“Where?”
