Connor clearly can’t understand that.
His dark, cold gaze glitters in the dim light.
In an excuse to break eye contact, I wipe my arm again. Thankfully, the blood’s already clotted. The cut doesn’t hurt. I probably don’t even need a bandage.
Grimly, I realize Tony sliced the arm I can hide with my flowy scarf.
Silver linings, right?
I need to go upstairs and face a room full of men on the verge of forging an alliance. I can’t come off like a dry leaf in the wind, brittle and ready to crack.
Shake it off, Caterina.
“I imagine Tony was looking for me because the meeting’s starting. Or maybe my father wanted some wine from the cellar.”I grab the necks of two bottles in the wall and pull them off their shelf. I don’t even glance at the labels.
“Cat.” Connor reaches for me.
I shift away. “Take care of this.” My voice is soft but not necessarily gentle as I glide past him. The words are an order, not a suggestion.
Tony has to disappear. His death might not matter in the grand scheme, but if Nino finds out before the signatures dry…
In my periphery, Connor nods. “No problem. You go do your thing.” He’s on his knees, yanking his knife from Tony’s heart and wiping the blade on the dead man’s slacks.
All business.
Just another day at the office.
Before I leave, I pivot to find a soldier-like Connor preparing to dispose of the body.
He committed his first murder at the age of twelve. I can picture it now, even more than in that old warehouse when he was fueled by anger and betrayal. An act by a boy with a broken heart, even if he’d never admit as much.
I hover by the door until he glances up. “I’ll leave my window open tonight at the estate…” I force a smile, “if you still want to see me.”
He captures my gaze long enough for me to understand that he accepted the invitation, then goes back to work.
Upstairs, I bypass the gala and head straight for the back of the building, where I glide past two enforcers and into a beige conference room. My father and brother sit across from Finn Gallagher and a green-eyed King I’ve never spoken with but believe is Finn’s right-hand man, Cian Mahoney.
I don’t smell any gun smoke or see any red stains, so that’s a small relief.
Did we strike an alliance after all?
I set down the bottles and uncork them, grateful that the action disguises my trembling fingers.
The men will finish the paperwork overnight, and Finn and Eduardo will meet tomorrow to sign on the dotted lines. I serve everyone a glass of pre-celebratory wine. Dutiful Caterina Ricci, entering post-negotiation like a good daughter and passing out beverages to the big important men.
Hi, I’m Cat. I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you off with an appetizer?
Finn smiles at me before he exits. Awfully friendly for a crime boss who looks like he could break me like a pretzel with a sideways glance. With that scar and those blazing brown eyes, he comes across as one fierce Irishman. I didn’t get a Connorvibe from him, though. Nothing flirty. I think he was mostly acknowledging me.
If I didn’t have images of Tony’s bleeding corpse at the forefront of my mind, I might appreciate the gesture.
I hope I smiled back, but I don’t even know.
After that, Nino drives our father home.
The man was wilting, but not nearly as much as he normally would be at this time of night. Elation over the antidote working overshadows my other emotions, however temporarily. His physical body is healing at lightning speed, and his spirits have risen.
We may have lost Tony, but we’re getting Eduardo back.
