"Arturo!" I exclaimed, injecting warmth and surprise into my voice while my heart hammered against my ribs.
He smiled, arms opening wide. I went to him without hesitation, the muscle memory of being his baby sister taking over. His embrace felt solid, familiar. At thirty-eight, he still kept himself fit, his expensive tailored suit unable to hide the strength beneath. The scent of cigars and cologne—that signature Clive Christian that Nadine bought him every Christmas—wrapped around me.
"Baby sister," he murmured against my hair. "You look lovely today."
I pulled back, gesturing toward the living room. "Coffee?"
"Please."
In the kitchen, I poured two cups, willing my hands not to shake. The ceramic clinked against the countertop as I added a splash of cream to mine, black for him. Just like always.
When I returned, Arturo had settled onto the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, scanning the room. The calico mama cat approached him cautiously, and to my surprise, he reached down to scratch behind her ears.
"You have cats now?" His eyebrow arched.
I set the mugs down on the coffee table. "One of my security team found them outside. Couldn't leave them."
I sat across from him, crossing my legs at the ankle. "How's Nadine? The kids?"
His face softened. "They're good. Carlo is seventeen going on twenty-five, desperate to become a Scorpion." He rolled his eyes. "I told him college comes first. You can imagine how well that went over."
I nodded, remembering how badly I'd wanted in at his age too.
"Lucia is still in ballet," he continued, sipping his coffee. "And my little Gia is a gymnast now. Best tumbler in her class."
"Takes after her Uncle Lorenzo," I said, the family joke slipping out before I could stop it.
Arturo laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "God help us all if she does."
I found myself laughing too, the sound foreign to my ears after weeks of tension. For a moment, we were just siblings catching up, the weight of everything else temporarily suspended.
Maybe this was okay after all. Maybe he didn't know.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the silver lighter Kara had found by the south gate. The metal was cool against my palm.
"I found this the other day," I said, extending it toward him. "Must have been out there a while. Didn't think you'd been up here for years."
Arturo took it from me, his fingers brushing mine. He turned it over slowly, methodically, the way he examined everything. Sunlight from the window caught the engraved "B" on its side, making it gleam against his manicured fingers.
"I was out here a couple weeks ago," he said, his voice casual.
My stomach clenched tight. The coffee in my mug suddenly tasted bitter.
Arturo's eyes lifted to mine, dark and unreadable like our father's. "You don't think I'd let my baby sister go to a house that hadn't been properly secured, did you?"
He held my gaze, letting the silence stretch between us. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
He traced a finger along the rim of his coffee mug. "I noticed when I was here before that your security team installed a camera in Ma's old bedroom."
The coffee turned to ice in my stomach. I kept my face neutral, the way Pa had taught us. Never let them see.
"They must have thought they'd have reason to keep a close eye on you, Domenica." He drew out each syllable of my name, like a warning shot across a battlefield.
I set my mug down carefully, buying seconds to compose myself. "Standard procedure to keep me safe. I wouldn’t want home invaders to shoot me in the head like they shot Ma."
"You have to be careful about who you keep company with, sister." His eyes flicked toward the kitchen where Kara stood just out of sight. "You really can't trust anyone these days."
"I trust these women with my life," I said, the words coming out more defensive than I intended.
