She Whispered, “Sorry I’m Late”—And the Mafia Boss Immediately Knew Something Was Wrong

She woke once and saw his silhouette against the window. He was awake, watching the city with his arms crossed and his profile motionless. Light from outside outlined his broad shoulders and the rigid line of his jaw.

There was something in that vigil Katarina could not name.

It was not calculated protection or duty fulfilled.

It was presence.

It was choice.

She fell asleep again before considering more deeply what that meant.

The elevator chimed in the morning.

Katarina heard a cordial voice in the hallway, deep and relaxed, the kind that filled a room as though it already belonged there.

She approached the kitchen doorway barefoot and stopped.

An older man stood with Vittorio. He had short white hair, a navy-blue suit, and a broad, confident smile. He held both of Vittorio’s hands between his and lightly patted his forearm while speaking quietly.

Vittorio answered in restrained monosyllables, as usual, but something in his posture was different. Perhaps it was a different form of attention.

The older man turned and noticed Katarina.

His smile opened immediately, as though she were already part of an image he had known for years.

“Miss Aiello, what a pleasure. Silvio Fenucci—an old partner and an even older friend. I heard that you had a difficult night. If you require anything, anything at all, you need only call me. Vittorio has my number memorized.”

Katarina offered the small, polite smile she had learned to use in buildings filled with people who did not need to know what she was thinking.

“Thank you, Mr. Fenucci.”

“Silvio, dear. Silvio. There is no mister in here.”

He turned toward Vittorio, gave his shoulder a light pat, and said goodbye with the ease of a man who had never required an invitation to arrive or a farewell to leave.

The elevator doors closed behind him.

The apartment returned to its previous silence, although the silence felt heavier than Katarina expected.

Vittorio approached her and took her hand, his fingers closing warmly around her cold wrist.

“Finish your coffee. Then we are going out.”

“Where?”

He studied her for an additional moment.

“I found you a place. It is not here.”