Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lux

“Lux?” I hear Rafael calling for me. I take a deep breath and gulp some ice water, trying to steady my nerves.

Seeing that man, here in Rafael’s home, makes me feel uneasy and shaky. He refuses to look at me, making me wonder what the hell is going on here.

“Yes?” I glance up, trying to act natural. Clearly I’m failing, because Rafael is staring at me with concern in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” I gulp. “Just uh, didn’t expect mafia dudes in the house today.”

He smiles tightly and walks over to pull me into his arms. I wind mine around him and press my face into his chest, inhaling that calming Rafael scent deeply into my lungs.

“They’re not usually in the house,” he finally explains, pulling away to look down at me. “But I was waiting for a very important delivery, so we had to have our meeting here.”

My mind immediately goes to mafia business and images of crates full of drugs and weapons. If that’s what Rafael does, I’d honestly rather not know. At least then I can fool myself into thinking that he’s just a charming, sexy, philanthropist billionaire.

Right.

“And guess what?” he teases with a smile. “It came about an hour ago.”

“Oh,” I stutter, not knowing if I should pry. “That’s…nice.”

“Why are you looking at me like I’m about to swing an axe at your neck?”

“Are you saying I look like a headless chicken?” I joke, nervously running my hands up and down my thighs. He laughs, shaking his head, and walks over to the island to grab a tiny package.

A tiny blue package.

Tiffany blue, in fact.

“This,” he slides it into my hands, “is for you.”

My fingers tremble as I slip off the silky white ribbon and pop open the lid. The most gorgeous diamond ring I’ve ever seen sits snugly inside the box, sparkling like the sun. I don’t know much about jewelry or diamonds, but this must have cost him more than my car.

“Do you like it?” he asks, nervousness creeping into his voice. I’m probably making him sweat just staring open-mouthed at this ring so I gently touch it. “It’s real, you know?”

I glance up at him to see laughter in his eyes. “It’s incredible, it looks like…”

“The sun,” he finishes. “It’s a vintage ring from the 1920s, very art deco-inspired. It reminded me of you.”

Oh yeah, this definitely cost more than my car. Maybe even more than his car.

“This …reminded you of…me?” I wonder. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how this gorgeous piece of jewelry resembles me in any way. He chuckles and I look up to see crimson creeping into his cheeks.

I’m making a mafia don blush. A mafia don bought me a disturbingly expensive ring. How did my life turn into this?

“Since the moment I saw you, you’ve felt like sunshine to me,” he mumbles, the blush deepening. “Warm, bright, happiness in a bottle.”

“Wow, Rafael, I don’t know what to say,” my voice shakes with emotion. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Here, let’s try it on,” he brushes me off, clearly embarrassed at this rare moment of emotion. “I guessed your size.”

He gently pries it out of my hands and slips it onto my ring finger. I hold my hand up, mesmerized by how the diamond catches the late afternoon light. Even though we said our vows in front of an officiant and hired witnesses this morning, the ring makes it somehow more real.

I throw my arms around him, circling my legs around his waist, and catch his lips in a deep kiss. He chuckles through it, spinning me around the kitchen.

“I take it you like it then? I can throw out the receipt?”

“Burn it,” I tell him, leaning in to kiss him again.

***

Although the mood feels lighter as we cook dinner that evening, I know Rafael is still thinking about my interaction with that man earlier.

I hem and haw about whether to reveal anything as I mindlessly stir the spaghetti. He’s chopping mushrooms beside me, humming along to the soft jazz filtering through the speakers.

This feels so domestic, so wholesome and lovely, that I don’t want to spoil the moment. But my brain keeps pointing out the fact that I might know something important—something that could save his life.

“Rafael,” I start, but he interrupts me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and nuzzling my neck.

“I miss when you used to call me Wolfie,” he jokes.

“Wolfie?” I laugh, swatting him away. “That’s when I thought your last name was Wolf. It doesn’t make sense now.”

“Actually, it still kind of does,” he says, stepping away to toss the mushrooms into a pan. “I’m known as The Wolf in…my circles. That’s why I chose it as my last name when I gave you my alias.”

“Hmm, okay then, Wolfie?”

“Yes, sunshine?”

Sunshine. I stare at him, my eyes dreamy, as I melt away inside. He grins, realizing I’m fawning over the new nickname. I clear my throat, trying to re-focus my attention on what I need to tell him.

“I think I need to tell you something,” I start, nervously wringing my hands. “It might be nothing, but it might be something that could protect you…and me.”

He stills, turning down the heat on the burner, and walks over to me. “Is this about that strange interaction earlier?”

“That man, the tall one. Who is he?”

“Vince,” he answers right away. “My father’s right-hand man. I guess my right-hand man, now.”

“You trust him?” I ask nervously, not knowing whether my information will make a mess of everything. He cocks his eyebrow at me, thinking deeply.

“My father did…” he starts slowly. “Lux, what’s this all about?”

“So, when I worked at The Velvet Room, he was a regular,” I blurt out in one breath, glancing at him to see his reaction.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but if the Mancinis are rivals, what’s his right-hand man doing in their establishment every week?

“A regular?”

“Yeah, he came in at least once or twice a week. Usually Thursdays and Saturdays, in the early evening,” I explain. “We got to know pretty much all of our regulars because…well, because they came on a regular schedule.”

“So, you’ve spoken with him before?”

“Nope, he would always rent a private room,” I say, trying to remember the details. “It was kind of weird because those rooms are usually for parties or large groups, but he came alone and rented the room for an hour or two.”

Rafael’s face darkens and his eyes burn like embers. Anger flashes across his features and I almost regret telling him. But if this Vince guy is double-crossing him, he needs to know.

“You never served him or saw what he did in there?”

“No, only Lisa had access to the VIP rooms.”

“Was Mancini at the club on the days Vince went?” he asks, information connecting in his mind. I could almost see the lightbulb above his head. Not wanting to sway his opinion more, I simply nod my head.

“That fucking traitor,” he growls, smashing his hand against the marble countertop. I jump in surprise, backing away. He notices my apprehension and takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself.

“I’m sorry, Luxy,” he says, his tone more even now. “I’m not mad at you and I don’t mean to scare you, but you know what this means?”

I nod again. “There’s one more thing, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with anything, but when you told me your father died recently and then I saw him here…”

Rafael’s head snaps up, his eyes blazing. “Tell me.”

“When I was working at Rocky’s,” I begin, nervously eyeing him. He forces his rigid body to relax and leans against the counter, nodding gently. “There was a day when an old man died. I think he had a heart attack, right at my table. It was shocking and extremely sad. Anyway, I panicked and rushed off to grab my phone to call 911…”

I trail off, noticing his features darkening again. His fingers drum on the marble, not in a nervous way, but in a decidedly evil way. There’s no other word to describe it. Rafael is a ticking time bomb right now, and I’m lighting the wick.

“Go on,” he encourages me, his voice soft so as not to scare me. The look in his eyes terrifies me, but I continue.

“When I turned around, the man and his companions were going out the back door. I followed to help him but then Vince stopped me. He said he’d take care of it,” I finish, watching for signs of explosive rage.

Rafael seems oddly calm, drumming his fingers and staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Meanwhile, I’m shaking like a leaf.

I don’t know much about the seedy underbelly of this city, but I know enough that I’m pretty sure Vince is in big trouble. Rafael notices my condition and softens, coming over to hug me.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers into my hair. “That was brave of you. And I won’t apply the phrase snitches get stitches to you…this time.”

“You’re joking, right?” I pull away quickly, gauging his emotions. He chuckles, kissing my forehead, and pulling me close again.

“Yes, Luxy, stop worrying. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Do you think he’s working with the Mancinis? Is he double-crossing you? What does this mean for Vince?” The questions fall out of my mouth, blurring into each other, but Rafael’s answer is clear.

“It means he’s a dead man.”