Page 72 of Caterina
A small smile touches my lips, a real one this time, the first one I've felt since my father dropped the news on me yesterday.
"Okay," I repeat.
Chapter Eleven
Adrian
The conference room sits in one of the quieter areas of the administrative floor. Far enough from the casino floor to keep the worst of the noise muted, close enough that the low pulse of the place still makes it through the walls.
A constant thump under everything. Voices. movement. slot chimes. Money, music.
I stand near the door where I can see the entrance, the hall through the glass, and both women at the table.
Caterina and Olivia are halfway through a stack of meeting materials. Roberto stepped out ten minutes ago to handle a series of calls while he had the chance, leaving me with the easier part of the assignment on paper and the more complicated one in reality.
On paper, I’m guarding two women in a conference room.
In reality, I’m guarding one principal who hates being guarded and another woman who is pregnant, sharp, and too used to working through inconvenience to treat her own condition with the caution it deserves.
Neither of them is making this easy.
Caterina sits nearest the projector screen, one elbow on the table, dark hair pulled back over one shoulder, eyes on the figures in front of her while Olivia talks through a guest issue for next week’s private event calendar.
Olivia is seated across from Caterina, posture straight, one hand on a legal pad, the other resting absently at the curve of her stomach when she’s not making notes.
The room is neat, professional, and not nearly as secure as I’d like. Too much glass and open space. I don't know why they couldn't get this done in an office.
With no windows.
I’m still working through all the ways I want to change that when the door opens too fast.
A host steps inside with urgency.
Every muscle in me tightens by habit, but I don’t move yet.
She’s young. Suit pressed. Name tag straight. Breathing a little harder than the walk up here warrants.
“Sorry,” she says immediately, eyes on Caterina, then Olivia. “I need one of you downstairs.”
Caterina looks up first. Olivia, right after.
“What happened?” Olivia asks.
“There’s a VIP high roller on the floor losing his mind over a marker issue,” the host says. “Security and the floor manager have tried to calm him down, but he’s demanding to see someone from Executive.”
Caterina’s mouth flattens. “Who?”
The host gives the name.
I don’t know the man personally, but I know the type. Big money. Bigger ego. Used to being coddled and indulged because people like him lose fortunes one hour and come back the next tolose more. Casinos tolerate a lot from those customers because revenue is revenue.
Olivia already starts pushing her chair back on instinct. “I’ll go.”
Caterina is faster.
“No.”
Olivia turns her head. “Cat.”
