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Chapter Ten

Rafaele

“ I ’m not sure that meeting two hours out of town was needed.” I sigh as I take a seat across from Alexei in a seedy biker bar just off the highway. “We’re not enemies, Alexei.”

He leans back on his seat. “No, but we’re not friends either, and the accusations you’re making are very serious.”

I arch an eyebrow. “But not unfounded, otherwise you wouldn’t have called me to meet me. I sent you proofs.”

“You sent me dead bodies.” He sighs, running his hand in his graying hair. Alexei Mirsov has been the head of the New York Bratva for a record time—over thirty years and going strong. We are in no way allies, but I respect the man. He is cautious, smart, and cunning. He prevented unwanted wars and bloodshed, and I know he’s as reluctant to be here as I am.

“Dead rats.”

He gestures to the bartender, who brings him a glass of clear liquid I assume is vodka. “I would offer you one, but I assume you’re not into manly drinks.”

Paolo snorts as he takes a sip of his soda water, sitting two tables down with who I presume is Alexei’s own man of trust—neither of us foolish enough to show up alone and unarmed.

“I don’t need to get my insides bleached, thank you very much, and not at ten in the morning.”

“It’s five p.m. in Moscow.”

“Then, by all means, enjoy your vodka,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and keeping my gaze steady on him. “But let’s get to the point. I came here because we both have a problem, and it’s not going away unless we deal with it.”

Alexei nods slowly, taking a measured sip from his glass. “You think someone in my organization is working against you. That’s a serious accusation, Rafaele. If you’re wrong, it could mean war.”

“I’m not wrong,” I say firmly. “The bodies I sent weren’t just any of your men—they were inside my operations, disrupting shipments, trying to destabilize our business. Someone’s playing both sides, Alexei. And if they’re willing to betray me, they’ll eventually betray you too. And if you reached out and set up this meeting, it’s because you think so as well.”

He studies me, his gaze sharp and calculating. “And what do you propose?”

I don’t take the bait. “You wanted to see me. You tell me.”

“Umniy paren',” he mutters before taking another sip. “Find them. Clean house. I’m already doing it on my side, and I suspect you’re doing the same. We make them talk and share the names of our mutual rats. We don’t have to like each other, but we both understand the value of stability. I’m not interested in a war that neither of us can afford. Are you?”

“Why me? You’re the pakhan; I’m only the sottocapo.”

Alexei's gray eyes never leave my face as he smirks. “I hate your father, always have. He’s all ego and Italian pride. Far too up his ass to know what’s good for him. And we both know that you’re the one in charge now, Reaper.”

I hold his gaze, feeling the gravity of his words settle between us. Alexei’s not one to mince words, and his blunt assessment of my father isn’t far off the mark. But hearing it from him only confirms what I’ve already known—that my position, my decisions, are no longer just in the shadows.

“So, you’re saying you’ll trust me over him?” I keep my tone even, betraying nothing of the slight unease his declaration stirs. “That’s a risky move, Alexei.”

He shrugs, a small, cynical smile tugging at his lips. “Not trust, Rafaele. I don’t trust anyone, especially not an Italian. But respect? Maybe. You’ve shown you can handle your business without the theatrics. And that’s what we need right now—someone who can see beyond their own ego.”

I take a slow breath. “Then we agree. We’ll both clean our house silently, share information with each other, and deal with the problem before it becomes a war neither of us can control.”

Alexei raises his glass in a mock toast, his expression still guarded. “To not needing each other,” he says, a wry twist to his smile. “But making it work anyway.”

I don’t bother lifting the glass of whatever drink they placed in front of me. Instead, I give a curt nod, our unspoken agreement hanging in the air between us.

He sighs, setting his glass back on the table. “I heard you got married yesterday. Svad'boy! It surprised me that you offered to meet today.”

You’re not the only one , I think, feeling Paolo’s eyes on me. Paolo doesn’t understand why I insisted on handling this today—he doesn’t have the full picture. And I can’t explain the hunch gnawing at me, the need to have everything settled before whatever I suspect comes to light, and I lose control of the narrative.

“We both know what marriage means in our world,” I say dismissively. Maybe a little too dismissively. I should mean it—I want to mean it—but I can’t shake the image of her blue eyes from last night, the hurt that resided there, no matter how much I try.

“Speak for yourself, Reaper. In my world, love is common, and mine was a marriage of love.”

His admission is surprising, but I don’t dwell on it. There’s no room for sentiment in my life. Not now.

“Well, I would like to say it was a pleasure,” I reply, signaling to Paolo with a jerk of my head that we’re done here.

“Same to you.”

We exit the bar in silence, and as we walk to the car, I can feel Paolo’s eyes on the back of my neck, his unspoken questions pressing down on me.

“Say what you want to say.” I sigh as he opens the car door.

“Do you trust him?” Paolo asks, his voice measured but edged with concern.

“Not particularly, but we have a common goal, and that’s enough for now.”

He nods, starting the car. We drive in silence for a few minutes, the tension between us thickening with every passing mile.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice laced with barely contained frustration. “What are you hiding?”

I knew he’d catch on eventually. I just hoped it would be later after everything had settled. “What do you mean?” I ask, my tone carefully neutral, though I know it won’t fool him.

Paolo glances at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not just dealing with the bratva. There’s something else going on. Something you’re not telling me.”

I lean back in my seat, staring out the window as the landscape blurs by. “I’m handling it, Paolo. That’s all you need to know.”

His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Rafaele, I’ve been with you for years. Don’t shut me out now. If there’s something more, if there’s a bigger threat?—”

“It’s not that simple,” I cut him off, my voice sharpening with a rare edge. “The best way to handle this right now is to keep things under wraps. I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with before I make any moves. Until then, trust that I have it under control.”

“You’ve never shut me out before,” he presses, his frustration evident.

“This isn’t like before. This isn’t about you.” I glance down at my phone, the screen dimming as my thoughts swirl. “But I need you to help me out.”

“Anything,” Paolo replies without hesitation, his loyalty unwavering.

I trace my fingers over the screen of my phone, hesitating, not because of Paolo but because of the unfamiliar vulnerability the words will reveal. “She’s not just anyone. She’s not just a business transaction. She unsettles me, and nothing ever does. I want her… not to be miserable with me. Maybe even happy.”

He nods, absorbing my words with the calm understanding that only years of friendship can bring. There’s no surprise in his eyes, just a quiet acceptance of the shift in my resolve.

“You’re not surprised?”

He shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not really. I never thought you were unfeeling. You’re a good man, Rafa. I wouldn’t be your right-hand man if you weren’t. She seems like a good woman too. She deserves to be happy.”

I nod, not sure where he’s going with this. “Okay?”

“And what you did today? Leaving her to fend for herself the day after your wedding? That’s not cool. And don’t start with the ‘it’s just who I am’ routine because we both know it’s not.”

I glance down at my phone, not quite sure how to explain myself, knowing that any denial would be pointless. “She needs to get used to the life she’s chosen with me. She told me she married me because she could never love me, that I’m not one for theatrics. The sooner she realizes how bleak her life will be, the better it is for both of us.”

Suddenly, Paolo starts laughing—a full, deep-throated laugh that echoes in the car, and I feel a surge of irritation. I want to punch him, but I can’t with him driving.

I just opened up to him, gave him a glimpse of what was troubling my thoughts, and he laughs.

“So she’s as delusional as you are?” Paolo shakes his head, still chuckling. “She picked you because she can’t love you? Damn, bro, did you actually buy that?”

I look away, not wanting to look more foolish than I already do and definitely not wanting him to see how completely clueless I am in all of this.

“I think she can love you, and you can make her happy. But what do I know anyway, huh? I’m single as fuck.”

“Indeed.” I keep my eyes on my phone, finally giving in to the idea that’s been nagging at me all week. “Before we go home, can we stop at Paws of Hope on Abbey Street? It’s a dog rescue.”

Paolo raises an eyebrow. “Are you giving me up for adoption?”

I flip him off but keep looking straight ahead. “She mentioned when we picked out her engagement ring that she loves dogs. She seems like the type who’d appreciate a rescue.”

“Yes, she does seem like the type to go for sad and broken.”

I glare at him, but he’s focused on the road, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. The drive continues in silence, the tension between us easing slightly as the cityscape gives way to quieter, tree-lined streets. Eventually, the car turns onto a narrow road, and we pull up to Paws of Hope, the sign worn but welcoming.

As we step out of the car, I feel a shift in the atmosphere. This place is a far cry from the world I usually inhabit—no power struggles, no double-dealing, just a place where second chances are given. I push the thought aside as we head inside.

The woman at the front desk gives me a once-over, her eyes widening slightly. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting someone like me to walk into a dog rescue—dressed in a tailored suit, with an air of authority that’s hard to miss. Paolo catches the look and smirks, clearly enjoying the situation.

Paolo grins as we approach the desk. "Don’t worry," he says lightly. "We’re not here to drop him off. We’re here to get his wife a present."

The woman’s expression shifts from surprise to mild confusion before she quickly regains her composure. "Uh, can I help you with something?"

"Yes," I reply, ignoring Paolo’s remark. "I’m looking to adopt a dog."

Her surprise lingers, but she nods and leads us to the back, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to piece together what kind of man walks in looking for a dog as a present.

Paolo leans in, whispering, "You’ve got everyone on edge, you know that?"

I grunt in response, focusing on the task at hand. As we walk through the rows of cages, my eyes are drawn to a small dog sitting quietly at the back of one. Her fur is a soft blend of cream and white, giving her an almost angelic appearance despite the somewhat scruffy, yet endearing, trim. Her round, dark eyes are full of curiosity and a hint of hope, following my every move as I approach.

Her ears, larger than I’d expect for her petite frame, stand alert, slightly flopping at the tips, giving her an adorable, almost whimsical look. She has a fluffy tail, curling over her back like a delicate plume, with a gentle, expressive face with a sweet and soulful expression that catches me off guard. I feel something in my chest tighten.

She sits on her haunches, her small body barely taking up any space, yet she radiates warmth and a calm energy that stands out in the otherwise noisy and chaotic environment. When she catches my gaze, her tail begins to wag tentatively, as if she’s hopeful but not entirely convinced that I might be the one to take her home.

I glance up at the info taped on the door. ‘Pomeranian/Havanese mix. Neutered female, Two years old. Name: Fate.’

"It’s her," I say, more to myself than anyone else.

Paolo peeks over my shoulder. "Fate, huh? Sounds poetic for you, Rafa."

I ignore him and turn to the woman. "I’ll take her."

She blinks, taken aback by the speed of my decision. "Would you like to spend some time with her first? Maybe see if she’s a good fit?"

"No need," I say, my voice firm. "I know she’s the one."

The woman hesitates for a moment before nodding. "Alright. Let me just get the paperwork."

As she walks away, Paolo nudges me. "You’ve got a soft spot, after all."

I shoot him a look. "Shut up."

He chuckles but says nothing more, watching as I kneel down by the cage. Fate’s tail wags a little faster as I reach out a hand, and she tentatively sniffs my fingers before licking them.

"Good choice," Paolo finally says, and for once, there’s no sarcasm in his voice.

I stand up as the woman returns with the paperwork. "Ready to take her home?"

"Yes," I reply, a sense of excitement washes over me. "Let’s go home, Fate."

As we continue walking through the shelter, Paolo nudges me with his elbow. “You know we’re gonna have to buy stuff for her, right? At least the basics. Nora can handle the rest.”

I shoot him a sideways glance and then turn to the woman who’s been guiding us. She gives me an encouraging smile, clearly trying to ease the situation.

“Do you have things for sale here?” I ask.

“Uh, yes, we do,” she replies, her voice a little hesitant. “We have the essentials—leashes, collars, food, toys…”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “Give me what I need. Everything she’ll need to start.”

She quickly gathers the items, placing them on the counter: a soft bed, a collar and leash, a couple of toys, and some high-quality dog food. “That’ll be a hundred and two dollars,” she says, looking a bit more at ease now.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my wallet and handing her two crisp hundred-dollar bills. “Keep the change,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Her eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Oh, thank you! That’s very generous of you.”

I give her a curt nod, taking the bags of supplies in one hand while Paolo scoops up the newly adopted dog, who seems more than happy to go along with this unexpected adventure.

I take the wheel while Paolo holds the dog in his lap, the little creature looking oddly content in the midst of all this. We pull up to the house, and I hand the keys to Paolo. “Get the stuff inside,” I tell him, taking the dog from his arms. She nestles against me as if she’s already found a home.

As I walk up the steps, Teresa appears in the doorway. “She’s in her room,” she says with a knowing smile.

I nod, my nerves growing with each step I take up the stairs. I can’t remember the last time I felt this uncertain about anything. When I reach Nora’s door, I place the small dog bed in front of it and then knock lightly. Without waiting for a response, I retreat quickly to the end of the corridor, my heart pounding in my chest.

The door opens, and Fate looks up at her with a joyous bark. Nora’s laughter rings out, bright and carefree, and I’m completely undone by it.

That laugh… It hits me like a punch to the gut. I’m struck by how much I want to say—so many things, all at once—but the words don’t come. My heart swells with emotions I didn’t expect, yet I stay silent, afraid to break the magic of the moment. It’s overwhelming, this new feeling inside me, but I can’t bring myself to speak. Somehow, the silence says everything.

Nora looks up, and the smile on her face is the final blow—it’s a smile that could bring anyone to their knees. Men would burn cities to see it again, bring her the hearts of her enemies on a silver platter. This smile is a dangerous weapon.

She bends down, reaching for the little dog, cradling her in her arms with such tenderness that it makes my chest tighten. “You brought me a dog?” she asks, her voice soft, almost disbelieving.

I nod, feeling more awkward than I’ve ever felt in my life. “Yeah, I thought… I thought you might like her. She’s a rescue.”

Nora looks down at the dog, who’s snuggling into her as if she’s found her forever home. Her fingers stroke the dog’s soft fur, and for a moment, I see something in her eyes—something warm, something grateful.

“She’s perfect,” she murmurs, and when she looks back up at me, there’s a softness in her expression that wasn’t there before. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to this—this gratitude, this gentleness. I’m better at dealing with threats, with the cold calculation of business. But this? I’m out of my depth.

Nora steps closer, still holding the dog in one arm, and before I can react, she stands on her toes, leans in, and presses a light, warm kiss to my cheek. The touch of her lips against my skin is like a jolt of electricity, sending a shock straight to my core.

Fuck me, she’s not only dangerous… she’s lethal.

I freeze, completely thrown off balance. My heart races, and I can feel the heat rising to my face. I’ve faced down enemies without flinching, stared death in the face without batting an eye, but this… this has me completely undone.

“I… um…” I stammer, not sure what to do with my hands, my thoughts, my entire existence at this moment. “You’re… welcome.”

Nora giggles softly as the ball of fluff licks at her neck, the sound like a melody in the air. “You’re thoughtful, Rafaele. More than you let on.”

I swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the truth is, I don’t know how to respond to this. I don’t know how to respond to her. Because no, I’m not thoughtful, no, I don’t care… at least not until her.

“I… um, I’m glad you like her,” I manage to say, my voice barely steady. I step back, needing to put some distance between us before I do something stupid, like kiss her back. “I should… let you two get to know each other.”

Nora just smiles at me, that devastating smile that’s going to haunt me for days. “Thank you,” she says again, her voice full of warmth. “This really means a lot to me.”

I nod, still unable to find the right words. “I… yeah. I’m going back to work.”

And then, before I can embarrass myself any further, I turn and head back down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest. I can still feel the ghost of her lips on my cheek, and for the life of me, I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my own lips.

What the hell is happening to me?

You know what’s happening, Rafaele Lucchese , a mocking voice rails in my brain. You know, but you don’t want to accept it.

“No,” I mutter out loud as I go down the stairs. I will not let myself feel.