And standing just inside the entrance hall, with her coat still on and her car keys in her hand like a woman who had decided to wait rather than leave, was Carla.
She looked at Nico first. Then at his hand which was still holding Mara's. Then at the Ferrante crest pin catching the light at Mara's collar.
Nico didn't let go of Mara's hand.
"You didn't send word you were coming, Carla," Nico said. His voice was smooth, flat, and entirely unapologetic. "Why are you here?"
Carla's expression flickered, the confident mask she had on slipping for a fraction of a second before she forced it back into place. "I tried calling," she replied in a tight voice. "You didn't answer."
Nico held her gaze for a long moment. "It's late."
"I know." Carla's eyes finally shifted to Mara, sweeping over her with calculated venom. "I see you're busy with your father's widow. Don't worry, I won't be long."
"I'll join you in the the living room," Nico said.
