Page 105 of Savage Union
"It's been an emotional day." She takes a sip, wincing slightly at the strength of the liquor.
"Indeed." I study her over the rim of my glass. "Your family seemed well."
"They did," she agrees. "Better than I expected, honestly."
"The Greenhouse suits them." I keep my tone casual. "Your mother especially seems to have found some peace there."
Caterina's expression softens at the mention of her mother. "She mentioned that you visit occasionally. To check on them."
"I do." I see no reason to deny it. "They're under my protection now. That carries certain responsibilities."
She hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of her glass. "What did you and my mother talk about? In the garden?"
The directness of the question doesn't surprise me. Caterina has never been one to approach things obliquely when a direct assault will serve.
"You, primarily," I answer truthfully.
"Me?" She straightens, attention fully engaged now. "What about me?"
"Your childhood. Your protective nature." I allow a hint of admiration to color my tone. "Your habit of placing yourself between danger and those you love."
Her eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by my accuracy. "My mother has always been too willing to share."
"She's proud of you," I continue, watching the effect of these words. "As she should be."
A flush touches her cheeks, vulnerability flickering across her expression before she masters it. "I've only ever done what was necessary."
"That's precisely why it's admirable." I lean forward slightly. "Necessity reveals character, Caterina. What we do when there are no good choices defines us more than any easy decision ever could."
Something clouds her expression—a shadow of worry, perhaps, or guilt. "And what if the necessary choice is still wrong?"
The question carries weight beyond our current conversation. I consider her carefully, measuring my response."Then we live with the consequences and try to make them right."
"Some consequences can't be fixed," she murmurs, gaze dropping to her glass.
"No," I agree. "But we face them anyway."
Silence stretches between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken thoughts. I break it deliberately, turning the conversation back to her.
"And what about you and Elena? You two seemed deep in conversation when your mother and I returned from the garden."
Her posture shifts subtly—a tensing of her shoulders, a slight straightening of her spine. Signs most wouldn't notice, but I've made a study of Caterina Gallo's tells.
"Just catching up," she says, voice carefully neutral. "Girl talk."
"Girl talk," I repeat, making no effort to hide my skepticism. "You seemed rather intense for casual conversation."
Her eyes meet mine, defiant yet guarded. "We haven't had much time alone together since... everything changed. There was a lot to discuss."
"Such as?" I press, watching for the micro-expressions that reveal more than words.
"My engagement." She gestures between us with her free hand. "This situation. She's concerned for me, naturally."
"Naturally." I take another sip of scotch, the burn grounding me as I navigate this delicate interrogation. "Elena Messina has always been protective of you, hasn't she?"
"We're close." Caterina shifts slightly, a subtle tell of discomfort. "More like sisters than cousins."
"Close enough to share everything?" I ask, the question deliberately ambiguous.
