Chapter Three #3
"You're right. She shouldn't," Teresa agrees. "But she does. And she feels like this is another instance of being treated like a little girl who needs to be taken care of rather than the competent woman who envisioned and built the most successful division of your family business."
Teresa's voice rises in her passion. "When she got the idea for the casino, she had to fight to get your father to even hear her out.
Then she had to fight for her role at the casino, even though it was her idea, because it was immediately assumed that Roberto was going to be the one in charge.
She built that place from the ground up.
The investors, the vendors, the regulators, she handles them all.
And she is brilliant at it. She deserves every bit of respect she's earned. "
"No one is arguing against that," Vito says, annoyed. "But this is about her safety. Not her ego."
"Of course, you would see it that way," Teresa says, scoffing. "It's easy for you to brush this off and call it ego, when you don't have to deal with the constant fight for respect and credibility that she does. You get it automatically."
"That's not fair." Vito's eyes are hot. "And not just because I'm the heir. I earned my position as well. I had to learn this business from the ground up, too."
"I'm not saying you didn't," Teresa says. "But no matter what the situation was, what you did or didn't do, it would never, in a million years, occur to anyone to just assign you a bodyguard, then tell you after the fact and expect you to just fall in line. It would never happen."
Until this point, I was listening silently, cataloging the information. Vito is all about protecting his sister and the family. Yes, he loves her, but her life and safety is his number one priority. Teresa is trying to protect the woman herself.
But that—the last thing that Teresa said—makes me lean forward.
"Hold on a second," I say, interrupting their continuing argument. "Back up. What do you mean 'assign a bodyguard'? She wasn't told that I was coming?"
My gaze shifts between them.
Teresa and Vito both stop and look at me. The tension that was simmering between them now shifts, directed at me. Teresa looks apologetic. Vito looks... stubborn. As if he already knows he should have done it differently, but will die before admitting it.
"No," Teresa admits. "She wasn't told."
"I'm going to her house early tomorrow morning to start my assessment, and she doesn't know I'm coming?"
"She knows," Vito says, a touch defensively. "She knows she's getting a bodyguard."
"We think, anyway," Teresa says, giving him a look. "Luca said he was telling her this afternoon. I don't know if he actually did, or how that conversation went."
I turn to Vito. I keep my voice even. "You didn't think it was important to give her more of an advance notice?"
"Advance notice would have given her more time to argue," Vito says, his logic blunt and unapologetic.
I push my chair back from the table and stand up. I'm not angry. But the situation has just shifted from difficult to potentially volatile. I can work with a difficult client. I can't work with a client who views me as an enemy combatant from the first second I step through her door.
I now understand Teresa's concern so much more than before. This is not about Caterina being difficult. This is about Caterina being ambushed.
"That was a mistake," I say, looking Vito directly in the eye. "A major one."
He doesn't flinch. "I did what I had to do to ensure my sister's safety."
"No. You did what you had to do to ensure you got your way," I counter. "There's a difference."
"I'm the one who hired you," he says. "I make the call on how this is handled."
"And yet your father is the one telling her," I point out. "Do you see the disconnect here?"
Vito’s jaw tightens as he pushes to his feet as well. The easy mood of dinner is completely gone now. "He insisted on being the one to tell her."
Teresa puts a hand on her husband's arm. "He's right, Vito. This should have been handled differently. We should have told her together. Made her part of the conversation."
"She wouldn't have agreed," Vito insists. "She would have fought us, and we don't have the luxury of letting her pride get her killed."
"And now she's going to fight me," I say, my voice dangerously calm. "And instead of being her protection, I'm going to be a symbol of her family's distrust. Of their disrespect. Every second of this job is going to be a battle."
Vito scoffs. "You're supposed to be one of the best. What happened to the guy who handed me that damn seashell in the living room an hour ago?"
Teresa's brows furrow at that. "What seashell?"
"I'm still here," I say, ignoring her. "But I'm not a magician.
I can't protect someone who is actively working against me.
I've been in those situations. It's how people get hurt.
This is a collaborative effort. It has to be.
Otherwise, I'm not a bodyguard, I'm a jailer.
And your sister is not going to respond to that.
She's going to fight it every step of the way.
Not out of pride, but out of principle."
I look at Teresa. "You were right. She’s going to hate me."
"I don't give a damn. Her hatred is better than her death," Vito says, his voice cold and hard.
"You're missing the point," I say, my own patience fraying.
"It's not about whether she's happy about it.
It's about whether she trusts me. If she sees me as an extension of you, as someone who was forced into her life, she'll never trust me.
She'll never listen to me. And when the real threat comes, I can't protect her without her cooperation.
I can't be fast enough or close enough if she's not where I expect her to be.
If she deliberately disobeys a direct order from me because she sees it as an act of rebellion against you, that could be the mistake that gets her killed. "
I take a breath, forcing myself to calm down. This is getting us nowhere.
"She doesn't have to love me, Vito. She doesn't even have to like me. But she has to trust that I'm on her side. And right now, you've guaranteed she won't. That's the cost of the mistake you made."
The room is silent.
Vito stares at me, a muscle working in his jaw. He's angry, but he's also thinking. He knows I'm right. He might not like it, but he knows.
Teresa looks at her husband, her expression pleading. "Vito, please. Adrian is right. This is Caterina we're talking about. You know how she is. This is going to be a disaster if you don't fix this."
"And what do you suggest I do?" he asks, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Call her and say, 'Oops, my mistake. Let's discuss this like rational adults? She's already made up her mind."
"No," I say, cutting in before they can start arguing again. "It's too late for that. The damage is done. You can't undo it."
Vito looks at me, a challenge in his eyes. "Then what's the solution, Mr. Bodyguard? If my brilliant sister is determined to make your job impossible, what do you suggest we do?"
I meet his gaze without flinching.
"I'll handle it," I say. "I'll handle her."
He raises an eyebrow. "You? You think you can just walk in there and get her to cooperate?"
"I'm going to have to, aren't I? You've left me no other choice." I pick up my glass and drain the last of my water. "But I'm going to do it my way."
"And what way is that?"
"I'm not going to be the jailer you've set me up to be. I'm going to be the professional you hired. The one you hired for a reason. And I'm going to make it clear to her from the very beginning that my loyalty is to her safety, not to your authority."
I look from Vito to Teresa and back again.
"That means I may have to make decisions that you don't like. That she might like, but you won't. If it comes down to her cooperation and her comfort versus your idea of control, I will choose her cooperation every single time."
"What does that mean?" Vito asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
"It means I'm not her father, and I'm not her brother.
I'm not going to treat her like a child who needs to be disciplined.
I'm going to treat her like an intelligent adult whose cooperation is essential to my mission.
It means I'm going to ensure her safety, and you don't get a say in how that happens. "
Teresa's eyes widen slightly, her gaze shifting back and forth between us, but she doesn't say anything.
Vito, on the other hand, looks like he's about to explode.
"You work for me," he says, his voice low and menacing.
"No," I correct him. "You hired me. I work for the safety of your sister. There's a difference."
"You're walking a very fine line, Adrian."
"I'm walking the line you drew for me," I say, my own voice hardening. "You want me to protect her. You brought me here for my expertise. Then you need to trust me to do the job. Even if that means doing it in a way you don't like."
I let that hang in the air for a moment.
"She's my sister," he says, as if that explains everything.
"And she's my client," I counter. "My only client. Not you. Not your father. Not the family. Her. I am her security. My loyalty is to her and her safety, no matter who signs the checks."
Vito stares at me, the muscles in his neck straining. He's not used to being spoken to like this. He's not used to people setting boundaries with him. Especially not people he considers employees.
But I'm not an employee. Not in the way he means it. I'm a contractor. A specialist. And my specialty is protecting people. Sometimes, that means protecting them from themselves. And sometimes, it means protecting them from their own family.
"And what if I don't sign those checks? What if I decide you're not worth the trouble?" he asks, a clear threat in his tone.
"Then it'll be your pride that gets her killed," I say simply. "I hope you can live with that."
Teresa lets out a soft, almost inaudible gasp.
Vito's face goes dark.
I don't back down. I hold his gaze, letting him see that I'm not bluffing. I'm not here to play games. I'm here to do a job. A serious job. And I'm not going to let him or his family dynamics get in the way of that.
The truth is, at this point, he can't undo the damage he's already done. Even if he finds another bodyguard this quickly, Caterina won't trust them either. She'll go into her next meeting, her next public appearance, with a target on her back, and she'll be alone.
And he knows it.
After a long, tense moment, Vito looks away. He turns and walks over to the window, looking out at the dark garden. His back is ramrod straight, a clear sign of his anger.
Teresa gives me a look I can't quite read. It's part exasperation, part gratitude, part something else I can't name. "You really know how to make friends, don't you?"
"It's one of my special skills," I say, my voice dry.
She lets out a small, reluctant laugh. "You know, for a minute there, I thought he was going to throw you out."
"He wouldn't," I say. "He's angry, but he's not stupid."
"No," she agrees. "He's not." She looks over at her husband, her expression softening slightly. "He's just... protective. To a fault sometimes. And he's used to getting his own way."
"We all have our weaknesses," I say, thinking of a few of my own.
She gives me a thoughtful look. "You're very good at this, aren't you?"
"At pissing off the people who sign my checks?"
"At reading people. At understanding the situation. At navigating the... complexities." She gestures vaguely around the room.
"I've had a lot of practice," I say.
"I can see that," she says. She glances at Vito again, then back at me. "I'm sorry. For the way he handled this. I tried to tell him it was a mistake."
"I know," I say. "And I appreciate it."
"What are you going to do?" she asks, her voice lower now, more intimate. "When you see her tomorrow?"
"I'm going to tell her the truth," I say.
"The truth?" She raises an eyebrow.
"Yes," I say. "I'm going to tell her that I know she wasn't given a choice. That I know she's angry and that she has every right to be, but that I'm here to keep her alive, and to do that, I need her to work with me.”
I pause, meeting her gaze. "In your professional opinion and your personal opinion as her sister-in-law, will that work?"
"I think it's the only thing that has a chance in hell of working," she says, her tone blunt. "Caterina respects honesty. She respects competence. But what she hates more than anything is being treated like she doesn't have a brain in her head. Vito loves her, but he doesn't always see that."
"I see it," I say.
"Good," she says. "Because you're going to need it. If you really mean what you say, then you have to make her believe it. She has to know that you’re not just Vito's puppet. It's the only way to even begin to build trust."
"I'll do my best," I say.
Teresa's lips curve into a faint smile. "You're going to have your hands full.”
"I've had worse," I say.
And I have. I've been in firefights in dusty streets where the enemy was invisible until the bullet cracked past my head.
But something tells me this is going to be a different kind of battle.
A much more complicated one.
At the window, Vito finally turns around. The anger in his face has been replaced by a grim, weary resolve. He’s accepted the situation. He doesn't like it, but he's accepted it.
He walks back to the table and stands across from me.
"Alright," he says, his voice flat. "You've made your point."
"I'm glad we agree," I say.
"Don't push it," he warns, but there's no real heat in it. "You have a job to do. Do it. I'll stay out of your way."
"Appreciated," I say.
"But if she gets hurt because of your methods," he adds, his eyes hardening, "you'll have me to answer to."
"Understood," I say, holding his gaze.
It's a fair warning. One I would have given myself in his position.
The truth is, if she gets hurt, no matter whose methods I use, I'll have myself to answer to. And I'm a much harsher critic than Vito Conti could ever be.