The men around him clapped his shoulders, grinning like soldiers after a clean hit. Not one of them looked at me. Not one of them understood what had just been set in motion. They saw a woman agreeing to step aside. They didn't see the Valente blood in my veins turning cold and quiet, the way it does before a reckoning.
Catarina said she was hungry. She wanted some soup.
Tomasso rounded up his friends and left immediately to get it for her. On his way out, he turned back to me. "Giovanna, are you hungry? Want me to grab you something?"
"I'm fine. Don't bother."
"Then take good care of Catarina for me, will you? She said her chest is sore from the milk coming in..."
The door clicked shut. The bodyguard posted outside shifted his weight, leather creaking faintly, and then there was nothing. Just the two of us now.
The fluorescent light hummed above us. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped in steady rhythm. The private wing Tomasso had secured for her was quiet as a confessional.
Catarina didn't have to pretend anymore. She turned to me with a look that was pure provocation. The softness she wore for Tomasso fell away like a mask lifted, and what was underneath had teeth.