Page 70 of Caterina
I want to tell him about the dreams I had when I was a little girl, the dreams of running away, of leaving this all behind and never looking back. I want to tell him about the night I decided to stay, the night I realized that running away wouldn't change who I was, or where I came from.
I want to tell him that I chose this life.
Not the violence, not the fear, not the constant looking over my shoulder.
But the family.
The business.
The power.
The complex, messy, complicated, and often brutal world that I was born into.
I want to tell him that I'm not a victim of my circumstances.
I'm a product of my choices.
But I don't.
I can't.
Because even if he understands, even if he sees me for who I am, he's still an outsider.
And there are some things an outsider can never understand.
I'm tired and scared, and he's standing here explaining my family to me in a way no one ever has, and all I can think about is how I want to reach out and touch him. To feel the solidness of him, to know that I'm not alone in this.
But I don't.
I can't.
Instead, I turn back to the railing, my hands gripping it so tightly my knuckles are white.
"What do I do?" I ask, the words barely a whisper. "How do I fight a battle on a front they won't even let me see?"
He doesn't answer right away.
I can feel him thinking, weighing his words. I can feel the shift in the air as he moves closer, until he's standing right beside me, so close I can feel the heat of his body.
"You don't," he says, his voice low and steady. "You don't fight them on their terms. You don't try to break down the walls they've built around you. You build your own."
I turn to him, my eyes wide.
"What are you talking about?"
"You build your own information network," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You cultivate your own sources. You listen. You watch. You learn. You become the person they have to come to, not the person they have to manage."
I stare at him, my mind racing.
It's a brilliant idea. A dangerous, brilliant idea.
And it's so simple, it's almost insulting that I didn't think of it myself.
I've been so focused on the injustice of it all, on the way they've been treating me, that I haven't been thinking strategically.
I've been thinking like an employee.
Not like a Conti.
