Page 78 of Caterina
That stops him for a moment. Not enough to make him pleasant, but enough to shut him up for three full seconds.
He sits, mostly because there isn’t a better move available to him without looking more ridiculous than he already does.
The call goes through.
Two minutes later, the hold is cleared, the paperwork is fixed, and Halloran’s fury has nowhere left to go except woundedpride. Caterina handles that too, giving him just enough dignity—and comps—back that he can leave this room telling himself he won instead of complaining louder downstairs.
The whole thing was efficient from start to finish. Exactly the kind of executive handling that made her insist on coming in the first place.
I still don’t like that she had to.
But I understand it better now.
When Halloran finally stands and smooths his jacket with a curt nod that is meant to feel magnanimous, Caterina says, “I appreciate your patience, Mr. Halloran.”
It is such a blatant lie that I nearly respect it on principle.
He leaves with his assistant and the floor manager trailing after him.
The door closes.
Caterina lets out a big exhale. “He is exhausting.”
“You handled him very well,” I comment.
Her head turns toward me, and for a second, the irritation she’s worn like a second skin since meeting me a week ago gives way to something closer to surprise.
“Well,” she says dryly, “that sounded almost sincere.”
“It was.”
That checks her for half a beat.
Then, because I’m not going to let the point sit there unchallenged, I add, “It was still a bad idea.”
Her eyes narrow immediately. “And there it is.”
“I didn’t say you handled it badly.”
“No,” she says. “You just can’t let me enjoy being right for more than two seconds.”
“That’s because you weren’t right.” I move toward the door and glance once through the narrow glass panel before opening it. “You were effective. That’s not the same thing.”
She folds her arms, but I can see the satisfaction still humming under the irritation now.
“That’s practically praise from you.”
“It’s all you’re getting.”
That earns me the briefest huff of laughter before she reins it back in.
I nod toward the door. “Back upstairs.”
We step back out onto the casino floor, and the noise hits all over again.
For one brief second, everything looks normal. Lights. laughter. drinks. dealers working through practiced motions. Staff moving with polished purpose. The floor breathing the way it always does.
Caterina falls in beside me, not as irritated as she was on the way down, though I know better than to mistake that for actual calm.
