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Chapter Thirteen

Rafael

The second we walk through my door, we both strip off our soggy clothes and tumble onto the bed. Lux shimmies herself into my arms and I pull her close, reveling at how soft she feels against me. I bury my nose into her hair, cinnamon wafting all around me.

We’re both exhausted, but she falls asleep first. Her soft snores make me smile, and I feel my eyelids getting heavy. Her softness, her warmth, her scent, all conspire to lull me into a deep sleep.

I have zero problems with insomnia when she’s in my bed , I realize as I drift off.

Sometime around noon, my body forces me awake. I glance over at Lux, sprawled out like a starfish, and quietly slip out of bed. I head to the bathroom, take care of business, and hop in the shower.

My phone lights up and Vince’s name pops up. I ignore it, not ready for his grim voice just yet. Although his call does jerk me back into the reality of what I’m supposed to be doing here.

I’ve made her fall for me, most of her sources of income are gone, and her apartment isn’t habitable. She’s pretty much reliant on me, and it all happened faster than I expected.

So why do I feel so shitty about it?

Part of me wants to come clean about this little game, make her confess to the murder, and just kill her already. The other part of me—the darker, sadistic one—can’t bear to see this end yet.

I get out of the shower and towel off, throwing on my gym clothes. A good workout always helps me clear my head, so I head to the rooftop gym. Enzo calls me and catches me up to speed on his recent activities as I jog on the treadmill.

I’m so grateful for this distraction that I find myself searching for ways to keep him on the phone longer. Once he excuses himself, we hang up and images of the beautiful blonde passed out in my bed engulf my mind again.

It’s not even her beauty that’s got me all fucked up. I just like being around her. She makes the monotonous, dreary days feel brighter somehow. I actually find myself genuinely laughing when I’m with her for the first time in years.

I stop in my tracks, almost flying off the treadmill.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be torturing the girl. I need to fucking kill her, and I’m here thinking about how much I LIKE her.

I break into a fast sprint, trying to burn the thoughts from my brain. When Vince’s name pops up on my phone again, I’m desperate enough to actually answer.

“Boss?”

“Morning,” I huff, slowing the treadmill down and settling into a cool-down walk.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news this early in the morning,” he says, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “I think we have a problem on our hands.”

“What happened?”

“The latest shipment never made it in. Our guys have been staking out the port all night…no sign of the boat.”

“Fuck,” I growl, hopping off the treadmill and grabbing my towel. “Any intel so far?”

“Not yet,” he answers, clearing his throat. “I have suspicions, though.”

“Who?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Mancini.”

“You think?” I pause, my mind rolling through the possibilities. “What’s your logic there?”

“I think it’s clear they’re messing with you. Now that their little waitress succeeded in getting your father out of the picture, they’re coming for your empire.”

It does make sense. They didn’t kill my father for the fun of it—they must have a bigger end goal.

“I need you to find out everything you can about what they’ve been up to,” I tell him, heading back to the elevator. “And get our inside man at the Coast Guard to look into this missing boat.”

“Got it,” he says, immediately hanging up. My skin burns with rage as I ride the elevator back down to my penthouse. To Lux, in my bed.

I’m literally sleeping with the enemy.

I’m not falling for her. I don’t enjoy spending time with her. It’s all some sort of bullshit that my brain has created because she happens to be beautiful and charming. Of course, Mancini would be smart enough to use someone like that to get to me.

I head straight to the bathroom, ready for a cold shower to take the edge off. As I get closer, I hear soft singing floating through the open door. I hesitate for a second but walk in, a cloud of steam hitting me in the face.

Lux is singing some pop song—badly and off-key. She spots me through the foggy glass and wipes a little circle away. Her face breaks into a grin and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Hi, Wolfie!” she says, her voice sounding sweeter than summer. “Care to join me?”

The anger instantly melts away. I’m no longer a man possessed by revenge. I’m a man willing to do anything it takes to see that smile again.

I quickly strip off my clothes and slip into the shower with her. She throws her soapy arms around me and kisses my neck, continuing to butcher that awful pop song.

“Don’t quit your day job, Lux,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“Which one? Oh wait, they all fired me.”

She cracks up laughing and I’m surprised when I join in. Her silly mood breaks down every last ounce of rage and frustration building inside me. We wash ourselves, breaking into laughing fits every time we make eye contact.

I hop out first, digging through the cupboard to find two big fluffy towels and we dry off. The fact that I just took a non-sexual shower with a woman and thoroughly enjoyed it isn’t lost on me. I push that thought deep into my brain to join all the other Lux-related thoughts.

After we get dressed, we head to the kitchen. Lux hops up on the counter to watch me cook a late breakfast. The scene is so disgustingly wholesome and domestic that I almost force myself to stop. But when she wraps her arms around me from behind and whispers about how good it smells, I can’t control my smile.

Despite her compliments, she pushes her omelet around the plate when I place it in front of her. Her silliness from the shower has worn off and she looks deep in thought.

“So, you’re a bad singer and a liar then?”

She snorts, finally taking a bite of her eggs. “I never claimed to be a good singer, but I’m definitely not a liar.”

“You couldn’t stop gushing about how good the food smells,” I say, pointing to her plate.

“Ugh,” she groans, slumping in her chair. “Sorry, I just…I just really can’t handle the thought of slinging cocktails at work tonight when everything is falling apart like this.”

“What if,” I glance at her, a sly smile on my face, “you just tell them your apartment flooded, and you have to deal with it. It’s not really a lie, is it?”

She stares thoughtfully at me, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “You know, that might work. I guess you’re the devil on my shoulder.”

“Who’s the angel?”

“Well, me…obviously,” she quips, shooting me a cheesy Hollywood smile. I laugh, nodding solemnly.

“What’s your boss like? You think he’ll be okay with giving you the night off?”

“Oh yeah,” she replies, stuffing some vegetables into her mouth. “Carlo is pretty chill.”

“Carlo,” I repeat, feigning innocence.

“Yeah, Mr. Mancini, technically. He’s a little…quirky,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. “I actually have this conspiracy theory that he’s in the mob, but he’s pretty harmless.”

My brain short circuits. I have no idea how to process this information or come up with a reply, so I just stare at her. She notices my shocked expression and laughs.

“Don’t worry, he’s not actually in the mob,” she assures, patting my arm gently. “He just has a sick fascination with Al Capone.”

My brain starts churning again and I attempt to keep her talking. “So, what makes you think he’s in the mob?”

“I mean, there’s the Capone thing. But he also owns a VIP bar with secret back rooms, although lots of places have those now.” She chews thoughtfully and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not any specific thing really, just the way he carries himself like he wants people to think he’s a big gangster.”

“Interesting,” I note, forcing myself to take a bite of my eggs. “Has he ever mentioned criminal activities?”

She bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “No, Wolfie…come on. Do you really think I’d keep working there if my boss told me he’s part of the mafia? No, thank you. I have zero desire to get involved with that.”

I shrug, forcing myself to laugh. She jumps up and grabs her phone off the counter.

“Let me call him right now, actually.” I watch her scroll through her phone and tap his name, then put it on speaker. She stabs a potato and stuffs it in her mouth as it rings.

“Carlo here.”

“Hi, Mr. Mancini,” she purrs, her voice soft and sweet, but she rolls her eyes. “Something unbelievable has happened to me.”

It’s almost surreal to watch this interaction. My father’s arch enemy’s voice floats through the speakers and fills my living room.

“Lux, nothing that comes out of your mouth can possibly surprise me at this point.”

“My house flooded,” she blurts out, “everything’s ruined—clothes, shoes, my furniture.”

Carlo sighs heavily on the other end. I can almost picture him rubbing his temples and shaking his head, although I’ve never met him in the flesh. Lux bites her lip, raising her eyebrows as she looks at me.

“Okay then,” he finally acknowledges. “So, you want to…”

“Take the night off?” she volunteers helpfully, grinning at me. “To take care of everything, of course. I need to call my landlord, the insurance company, the water removal people...who removes water from apartments? I don’t even know…”

“Right,” he cuts her off. “Well, I don’t have any private rooms booked tonight. Lisa can handle the main bar alone, so I guess it’s fine. Sunday you’re off as well, so you better be ready to work on Monday.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mancini!”

She hangs up the call and claps her hands giddily. “A whole free weekend!”

I smile back at her, wondering what the hell is going on. She wouldn’t call Mancini in front of me like that if she really was doing his dirty work, would she? Unless it’s a tactic to disarm me, to get me to trust her more.

Again, my mind spirals into oblivion, trying to piece the facts together. The more I try, the more convoluted everything seems. But if she didn’t kill my father, who did?

That line of thinking will only get me in trouble.

Either this girl is innocent, or she’s playing me like I’m playing her.