Page 12

Chapter Eleven

Rafael

I’m lost in a daze, sitting in a luxurious office high in the clouds above the city, surrounded by thugs in expensive suits.

Vince nudges me gently with his foot and brings me back to the present. I glance around the room, my gaze settling on Timmy McCallen’s ruddy, wrinkled face.

“Do you agree, Rafael?”

I arch an eyebrow at him, stalling for time. My father set this negotiation up months ago—a potential partnership with the McCallens. So far, Vince has done most of the talking for me, and I’m grateful.

Because the smell of Lux’s hair is muddling my thoughts. The look in her eyes this morning when she called me Wolfie is making my brain short-circuit. The smooth curve of her hip as I dug my fingers into it last night is making me— shit, focus.

“It would benefit both families,” I finally answer, shooting Vince a covert glance.

His nod is almost imperceptible, but it boosts my confidence, so I continue. “With our operational scale and your inside men on the police force, we’ll be able to double, if not triple, both of our profits.”

McCallen cracks a smile and sticks out his big, tattooed hand and I shake it, releasing the breath caught in my chest. I didn’t fuck it up. I grin back at him and everyone rises, filing out of the office and back to business.

As Vince and I head toward the elevators, I scroll through my messages and calls. A smile sneaks onto my face when I see Lux’s name. Before I have a chance to read them, Vince ushers me into the waiting elevator.

“You should be proud of yourself,” he says, slapping my back. “This was a big deal for your father. You’re fulfilling his legacy.”

I nod at him, a hint of a smile still playing on my lips. We descend into the underground garage in silence, but I can feel his eyes on me. My fingers itch to pull my phone back out and read Lux’s messages, but I control myself.

We slip into the car and head back to my office, weaving in and out of lunchtime traffic.

“Any updates on the waitress?”

I glance at him, worried that I had been talking out loud instead of daydreaming about her. He looks calm, focused on the road in front of us.

“Still working on it…the plan is in motion.”

“Did she confess to the murder?”

“Not yet,” I hesitate, something in the back of my mind screaming at me to nip the conversation in the bud. “Are you sure she’s the most likely suspect?”

“She was the only one there, Rafael,” he says, glancing at me with concern in his eyes. “Don’t tell me she’s getting to you…”

“No,” I say, sitting up straighter. My gaze hardens, and I push the screaming voice away. “Women don’t have any effect on me…especially that woman. I just want to be sure before I do something I can’t undo.”

“All right then,” he says with a dark chuckle. “Just make sure you’re not getting bewitched and losing sight of your goal.”

“As a matter of fact, thanks for reminding me.” I pull out my phone, swiping her name away and dialing Enzo instead.

“Boss?”

“Time for the second phase of the plan,” I say casually. “The waitress won’t be home tonight. Get your guys in there and work some magic.”

“Got it.”

Vince chuckles as we pull into the underground garage. “What do you have up your sleeve, Rafael?”

“Just making that bitch’s life a living hell,” I laugh, hopping out of the SUV. We head upstairs as my stomach ties itself into knots. I can only imagine her face when she comes home from her shift at the bar tonight—this is going to ruin her.

Conflicting emotions play out in my head. Focus on the goal. Remember what she did. Get revenge. I pour myself a glass of bourbon and settle into my wingback chair.

I picture my father’s face. I imagine him taking a sip of that cyanide-laced coffee, his forehead breaking out with sweat, his heart speeding up. I wonder if he knew he was being murdered.

She deserves this.

She didn’t do it.

I’m going fucking crazy.

I pull out my phone, scrolling through it as a distraction. I fool myself into thinking I have an unread message from Enzo and open the app.

When I see her name again, my fingers move on their own accord and click on the three texts she sent.

Hi, Wolfie! Hope you’re having a good day.

Is it lame to say I already miss you?

So, I had a rough morning. Call me when you can?

A rough morning? I pause, wondering if I sabotaged some part of her life and forgot about it.

Enzo and his team are destroying her apartment later tonight, so that’s definitely not it. I hit dial and she answers after a few beats.

“Hi, I’m just getting off the bus,” she says, her voice light and breathless. It sends warm tingles through my body, instantly relaxing me.

“That’s okay,” I assure her, forcing my voice to take on the soft tone I use with her. “Do you have time to talk? You said you had a rough morning?”

“Give me a second.”

I can hear the bus doors shutting in the background and the click-clack of high heels. After a few seconds, a lighter sparks, and she inhales deeply.

“Are you smoking?”

“That’s not what’s important here,” she says, laughing lightly. “The thing is…my car was stolen this morning.”

“What?”

I’m genuinely shocked. This woman really does have the worst luck.

“And then, I got fired from my delivery job. So, I’m essentially screwed,” she says in a sing-song voice, but I hear the sadness behind it.

Shit. None of that was even me.

“I’m sorry. Can I see you tonight? Cheer you up somehow?”

“You’re the best,” she sighs. “Take me out for ice cream?”

“At three in the morning?” I can’t help but laugh. She makes a little defiant sound of confirmation. “Okay, I’ll pick you up after work.”

We say our goodbyes and I hang up, that stupid smile sneaking right back onto my face. For a second, I wonder if I should call Enzo and cancel tonight’s hit on her apartment. She’s had enough bad luck for one day. What’s the harm in giving her a little grace?

Then Vince wanders into my office, his cold eyes staring me down warily. He sits across from me, pouring himself a drink.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

One look at his face, and the tone of his voice, and I immediately decide not to call off Enzo and his team. My father’s voice rings in my head, driving the point further.

You need to show them who you are. The son of Dominic Romano. Powerful. Lethal. Bullet-proof. The Wolf.

Lux might think I’m a big, cuddly dog, but she doesn’t know what’s inside of me. She might call me Wolfie, text me that she misses me, and plan ice cream dates, but she has no idea who I really am.

And if she knew the real me? She wouldn’t like him one bit.

***

I pull up to The Velvet Room, knowing I need to be careful. If the Mancinis caught wind of me creeping around their territory, toying with their staff, they’d be pissed. I keep the tinted windows rolled up, watching the door for Lux.

When she glides out of the bar, all flowing golden waves of hair and tanned limbs, my heart feels too big for my chest. Every time I see her, it’s like the first time—I’m awestruck, frozen, a silly boy with a crush.

How does she do this to me?

She spots my car and dashes across the street. Tossing her tote bag in my back seat, she climbs in and beams up at me. I stare back like a lunatic, a huge grin stretched across my face.

Suddenly, it feels too real. It is too real. When did I stop acting and start genuinely smiling?

“Hi,” she breathes out, leaning over the console and planting a soft kiss on my lips. I thread my fingers through her hair and pull her back before she can move away. My hands slip down to her bare shoulders, my fingers struggling with her contraption of an outfit.

“Wolfie!” She smacks my hand away. “Not here.”

I groan, leaning back in my seat and grinning at her. “What kind of grown-ass woman wears overalls? They’re impossible to take off.”

“That’s exactly why she wears them,” she grins back, buckling her seat belt. “To ward off wandering fingers. Ice cream now, please.”

I chuckle and start the car. My heart is soaring, my head firmly floating in the clouds. I try to reign in these pathetic feelings but fail miserably. She chatters about her day as I guide us through the dark streets of my city, enjoying the way her voice sounds.

“Where are we going, by the way?”

“It’s a secret.” I wink at her.

“I figured we’d just pick up ice cream from a gas station or something,” she says casually, but I can see that she’s pleased about our adventure.

“Gas station ice cream? Please, what kind of man do you think I am?”

“A good one,” she answers softly, smiling out the window as the city speeds past us.

I let that sentence settle into my core. A good one.

Would she still think if she knew what I was doing? How I was ruining her life little by little? If she knew how my family made their money and built a black-market empire?

We drive in silence as I ponder these questions, and what her answers might mean for me.

Eventually, the cityscape falls away and she gets excited by the open pastures and mountains. I didn’t plan to take her an hour outside the city, but my body was on autopilot.

As we pull into the parking lot of Route 42, she gasps. Her eyes are alight with stars and her mouth opens in shock.

“What is this place?”

I laugh knowingly, coming around to open her door and help her out. “My mom’s favorite place. I had pretty bad insomnia as a kid, so we’d come here at all hours of the night and get ice cream.”

She spins around, taking in the little pink ice cream shop, picnic tables, and string lights. Soft 50s-era music plays over the speakers and colorful lawn chairs litter the grass, surrounded by wildflowers. It’s exactly as I remember it.

I grab her hand, leading her to the shop. Her head is thrown back, staring up at the sky, and she stumbles.

“Come on, princess,” I say, catching her and pulling her closer to me. “We can stargaze once I have my cup of Rocky Road.”

She giggles, struggling to catch up to me, and we burst into the shop like a pair of excited kids. I place my order right away, but Lux wanders up and down the display case, reading out every single flavor. I smile, enjoying her sense of wonder.

She finally settles on Cherry Cheer and we take our cups outside, finding a pair of empty deck chairs.

“This is amazing,” she gasps, digging into her ice cream. “I mean, this was the last thing I expected tonight.”

“You said you needed ice cream.”

“Doesn’t everyone need ice cream?” she muses, staring at the stars again. “Tell me about your mom. What’s she like?”

The ice cream sticks in my throat and I swallow hard, taking a moment to let the brain freeze pass. “I haven’t talked about her in a long time…with anyone.”

“Oh? Is she…gone?”

“She is,” I sigh, slouching down in my chair. “She died when I was a teenager. It was tough, to say the least.”

“You can talk about her if you want,” she murmurs, placing her hand on my arm. “Or not, if you don’t want to.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the noise of our wooden spoons scaping our cups the only sound around us. Finally, I take a deep breath and imagine my mother’s face.

“She was kind,” I start. Lux looks at me encouragingly. “My father was a good man, but he was tough as nails. She was the soft one…and she brought out his soft side.”

She smiles, starry-eyed. I laugh, telling her how my father used to joke that falling in love with Mom made him too soft. And after she died, he would say it more seriously—as a warning to me—but I don’t share that part with Lux.

What am I doing here? I’m telling my father’s murderer about my mother.

That’s all kinds of fucked up.

But when I look at her, all I see is compassion—not the dead, cold eyes of a killer.

“I really like you,” I blurt out, avoiding her gaze. I hear a soft little oh escape from her lips. She laces her fingers through mine, squeezing gently.

“I really like you, too.”

My brain can’t comprehend if I’m acting or if this is real, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever helps me move the plan forward is what I should be doing, and this certainly will.

“Can we make it official? Or whatever people say these days?”

She glances slyly up at me, a shy smile on her lips. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

I lean down to kiss her, running my fingers through her wind-tangled hair. “Exactly.”

She nods so enthusiastically that her empty cup flies off her lap.

Perfect. Step one: seduction. Step two: relationship. Step three: destroy.

We sit and stargaze a bit as Lux points out constellations and tells me their backstories. When I see her eyes drooping, I suggest we head back to the city. It almost physically pains me to release the hand I’ve been stroking for the last hour.

As we pull up to her building, both of us half-asleep, she slides her hand onto my thigh. “Stay the night with me?”

I don’t even think twice. We park around the back and head through her lobby. I’m pleased to see newly installed lights, thanks to some threatening words from Enzo to her deadbeat landlord.

“Weird, what is this?”

I freeze, catching her before she stumbles on the stairs. We both stare at the filthy stone floor as water slowly pools around our feet. Lux glances up at me, confused.

Fucking hell, Enzo. I completely forgot about this.

Why are you so damn good at your job?