Page 7 of Caterina
“I’m not the one having a pissing contest on the front steps.”
“Am not,” Vito says, a muscle in his jaw flexing, but then he does something that surprises me. He reaches out and places a hand on the small of Teresa’s back, a gesture that feels less like possession and more like a need for connection.
That’s not the part that surprises me. The part that surprises me is that Teresa leans into the touch.
Like it's natural. Like it’s something she does every day of her life.
“Well,” I say, because the two of them together are throwing me off my game, and I don’t like it. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if we had the pissing contest inside.” My gaze shifts to Vito. “Probably mess up your floors.”
A ghost of a smile touches Vito’s lips, so faint it’s there and gone in the same breath.
“Probably,” he agrees. “She spent weeks picking them out.”
Teresa laughs, a bright, genuine sound that echoes in the salt-tinged air. "I did not." She shoves at his chest and doesn't move him an inch.
And there it is again. The normalcy of it.
The easy back-and-forth of a couple who know each other, who are comfortable in their own skins. The kind of casual banter I’ve seen a hundred times in couples who are genuinely happy.
I’ve been imagining her locked in a tower. I’ve been picturing her afraid, putting on a brave face on the phone calls, trying to hide her fear from me. I was so convinced of it that I’ve been working on an extraction plan for her and the baby day and night since she called last week, just in case.
That plan feels pretty stupid right now. But I won't throw it away just yet.
"We should go inside," Vito says, voice low, and I'm reminded of exactly why I'm here.
Threat against Luca Conti's children and a possible rat on the inside. This isn't just a social call, and I'm not just here for Teresa. I'm here to do the job I've been hired to do.
"Right," Teresa says, stepping forward and linking her arm with mine.
We start up the steps together.
I can feel Vito just behind and to the side, close enough to intervene if he thought he needed to, far enough not to crowd. I don’t miss the position.
He's not a man that I would typically turn my back on, but this is not a typical situation.
I let Teresa lead me inside.
The house is as impressive on the inside as it is from the outside.
It’s a huge space with an open floor plan, dark wood floors, and a high ceiling. There’s a massive stone fireplace in the living room, and the furnishings look comfortable, not like museum pieces. Everything feels lived in but stylish.
It's also spotlessly clean. I’d expected the house of a mobster to be a little more... ostentatious. Maybe a few gold-plated toilets or something. This is classy. It’s tasteful. Surprisingly restrained given the wealth it represents.
But I'm not here to judge the decor. I'm here to assess the situation, and I'm already doing that.
The open plan gives a good line of sight from the front door through the main living areas. A large dining table sits beyond an archway, in front of a wall of windows that opens up to a beautiful garden.
To the left of the dining table, through another archway, I catch a glimpse of a kitchen that's likely just as large and impressive asexpected of this house. There’s a woman there, her back to me, standing at a big island that's just visible from my angle.
I guess not all staff have been banished. This must be someone trusted.
All those glass windows I saw from the outside look beautiful, but they're a security nightmare. I make a mental note to check for reinforced glass or security film.
I also need to check the access points, hallway structure, choke points, windows, camera placement, possible dead ground, and how far a detail could be from the principal and still respond in time.
Teresa is talking as she leads me deeper into the house, asking about my flight, about my mother, about whether San Antonio is still as hot as hell this time of year. The easy family questions. The normal ones. I answer them because I can walk and assess at the same time.
There are a few ways to get in and out of this house, and I’m already cataloging them—
