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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rafael

The pain is blinding when I crack open my eyes and I wonder for a second if I got shot last night.

I slowly brush my fingers over my face, feeling every feature to make sure it’s in the right place, and try to open my eyes again. Sitting up makes me feel woozy so I fall back onto the pillows and let my eyes explore the room.

I’m tucked in bed, still wearing half of last night’s clothing. Hazy sunshine streams through the wooden slats of my window blinds, making the room warm and cozy.

The ceiling fan spins lazily above me, sending a cool breeze over my burning face. The spot beside me is empty and my brain struggles to fill in the puzzle pieces.

Did I get Lux back? Where is she? What’s happening?

“Oh, you’re alive,” a disembodied voice calls from somewhere behind me.

I crane my neck to look at her, framed in the doorway. Her hair, wet and glistening in the sun, slides over her shoulders and her eyes blaze with anger. She’s wearing one of my cashmere bathrobes and I want nothing more than for her to take it off and slip into bed with me.

“It seems that I am,” I groan, forcing myself to sit up. I pull the half-buttoned shirt off my body, wrinkling my nose at the stench. “What the hell happened to me?”

“You came home absolutely wasted,” she says matter-of-factly, passing me a tall glass of water. I chug the magical ice-cold liquid like it’ll save my life. “And you told me some rather interesting stories.”

Fuck. What the hell did I tell her?

I stare at the blanket, trying to kickstart my sluggish brain. My memories of last night are more than hazy.

I remember the rage and frustration I felt after we’d wasted all night tracking Vince and failing to find him. I remember my uncles trying to calm me down, telling me we’d get him eventually.

But I didn’t want to find him eventually. I needed to find him now.

I had been desperate to enact the worst revenge-torture scenario I could on that piece of shit. Then it all comes rushing back—heading back to Lita’s, how easily the first bottle of bourbon went down, the taxi ride home.

“Care to remind me?” I ask, aiming for nonchalance but probably sounding like an asshole. My memories blank after crawling into bed with Lux. I wouldn’t have told her anything stupid, would I have?

“Well, you started off telling me you love me,” she begins, perching on the edge of the bed. “You were really messy about it though, since your brain was obviously struggling.”

Okay. Okay, that was fine. I do love her—it’s no big secret, really.

“I’m sure my delivery was horrible,” I apologize. “But I do love you, Lux. That wasn’t a drunken ramble or anything like that…well, it was, but…” I cringe at the pounding in my head and wave a hand in her direction. “You know what I mean, I hope.”

“Mhm,” she nods, not meeting my eyes. She clearly doesn’t believe me, and I could mentally slap myself for finally telling her in such a shitty way. I don’t know how to handle emotions like love , I can admit that—to myself, at least.

The only other person I had felt true, real love for was my mother, and when she died, when she left me, it was the most painful, heartbreaking experience. I had promptly decided that I never wanted to feel that again—the warm embrace of love ripped away too soon.

So, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t capable of such silly emotions. I swallow the lump growing in my throat, knowing I need to be strong and explain all of this to Lux.

“Lux, I…”

“And you also told me about your grand plan to ruin my entire life,” she interjects, giving me a strong side-eye. “And then kill me.”

Shit. That was much, much worse.

“Fuck, I can explain…”

“And you will,” she interrupts again, her voice hard and resolute. “Because we’re having a baby together, and we’re married. But first, I need you not to smell like a cheap strip club.”

She promptly gets up and walks out, leaving me cold and dizzy. The room spins around me, all of my past decisions fusing together to create a gruesome tableau.

As memories swirl around in my mind, I screw my eyes shut, willing them to disappear. After a few minutes of meditative breathing, my heart steadies, and the room stops spinning.

I haul myself off the bed, stripping down, and force myself into a hot shower. Soaping up my body, I deliberate on how to explain what the hell I was trying to achieve with my little game.

I’m sorry, Lux. My father’s right-hand man, who was actually two-timing me and working with the rival family, convinced me that you, a waitress with zero connection to the mafia, killed one of the most powerful dons in the city. So, I decided to torture you for fun, but then fell in love with you. Isn’t that so funny when you really think about it?

Well, it sounds stupid when you reduce it to that, but it’s the truth.

I scrub the cigarette smoke and bourbon smell out of my hair, racking my brain for a better explanation. In the end, I decide to stick with the truth and let Lux take it as she will. No more lies, no more half-truths.

I wrap a towel around myself and brush my teeth, letting the minty smell settle the flip-flopping in my stomach.

When I finally join Lux in the kitchen, she’s still in the bathrobe, perched on a stool at the marble island. She stops flipping through a magazine and eyes me, nodding at my clean appearance.

“You almost catapulted me back into the horror show of morning sickness with your stench last night,” she says.

“I’m really sorry,” I whisper as I tentatively wrap my arms around her from behind. I feel her stiffen, but she doesn’t push me away, so I nuzzle her neck lightly, grateful for the physical contact.

“Rafael, we really do need to talk,” she finally says, nudging me away gently. She hops down from the stool and wanders to the opposite side of the island just as two pieces of bread pop out of the toaster.

“Here,” she says, sliding them toward me while filling a mug with fresh, steaming coffee. “Put something in your system to soak it all up.”

My eyes mist over and I berate myself for being such a fucking softie. It’s just toast and coffee, I tell myself. But I know it’s so much more. She cares about me, even after what I told her last night. How can she still care about me?

She could have easily packed her bag and checked into a nice hotel room with Enzo’s salary advance. She could have given me the cold shoulder, ignoring me and letting me fend for myself.

She could have done any number of things, but instead, she made me breakfast and let me hug her.

I take a bite of toast as she watches me suspiciously, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. We’re both quiet for a few minutes, processing the situation and wondering how it’ll all turn out.

“I thought we could discuss this like adults,” she finally says.

“I agree,” I immediately acknowledge. “Last night wasn’t my finest moment, and I’m truly sorry for how I told you the truth.”

She nods, puts her cup down, and joins me on the stool next to mine. Her fingers tremble, nervously playing with the edge of the hem of the robe, as she eyes the floor.

I know she’s still scared of me, of what I wanted to do to her, but she also trusts me on some level. I slip my hand around hers, squeezing it a few times until she looks up at me.

“Tell me everything,” she whispers. But before I can launch into the story, the elevator dings, and heavy footsteps pound on the marble floors.

I move as fast as I can, hopping off the stool to shield Lux with my body. A sigh of relief audibly escapes my lips when I see my uncles round the corner into the kitchen.

They stare at Lux for a few seconds, and I can feel her shrinking away behind me. I remove myself as her human shield and come to stand next to her instead, draping my arm over her shoulders protectively.

“Lux, these are my uncles, Joe and Rocco,” I say, nodding to them. “Uncles, this is Lux.”

“The waitress?” Rocco asks, confusion clouding his face.

“She’s my wife now,” I nod, pulling her in tighter against me. “Vince used her as a scapegoat for Dad’s death. She knows everything, so speak freely if you need to.”

Rocco looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but Joe pulls himself together to be their mouthpiece.

“We got a lead on…Vince,” he says, eyeing Lux. When she doesn’t react, he continues. “It’s a solid lead. Your kid Enzo has been trying to reach you all morning apparently, but your phone is off. He finally had the sense to call me, so we rushed right over.”

“Where is it?”

“One of Dominic’s old warehouses,” Rocco says, finally recovering enough from the shock to join the conversation. “About an hour outside the city. It’s been out of use for decades, but Enzo crawled traffic footage and spotted Vince’s plates on the freeway, heading out that way.”

“Give me ten minutes,” I tell them, chugging the rest of the coffee. “We’ll take my car. Meet me in the garage.”

The men nod and leave, giving Lux a tentative wave as they go. I hear her breath of relief once they’re gone, and pull her in for a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, stroking my hand down her back. “We’ll talk about this when I get home, I promise. I can’t pass up this lead.”

“I know,” her muffled voice says. She pulls away from my chest. She stares deeply into my eyes, hope and fear swirling together in her gaze. “Do what you need to do.”

I rush to the bedroom, throwing on fresh clothes, and stop by the kitchen on my way out. She’s finishing my dry toast, flipping through the magazine again.

I take a few extra seconds to admire her, wishing I could shut the world out and pull her into bed instead. Instead, I slip my arms around her and squeeze tightly.

“I love you, Lux,” I whisper against her ear. A shiver runs through her, and I beg the universe that it’s lust, not fear. I don’t expect her to say it back, and she doesn’t, but I’m willing to give her as much time as she needs.

“Be safe,” she calls as I slip into the elevator and the doors close.

For you? Anything.