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Chapter Sixteen

Rafaele

T hings have shifted even more between us since that moment in my office—her abandonment, the pleasure, everything. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I always thought I was damaged, that the part of me that men seemed to revel in didn’t exist. I’d even accepted the idea that I might be a sociopath. Not that I ever minded. It helped with my life, with my line of work, and having complete control over my body had always been an advantage.

That advantage is gone now—completely obliterated. But at least there’s only one person who has this effect on me, and that’s my wife. The smartest, kindest, most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth.

Who says sinners don’t deserve a miracle? Because God, or fate, or whatever, probably gave me the biggest one of all.

Even now, sitting in my brother’s club, officially charged by my father to investigate Fredo’s disappearance, I can’t stop thinking about her. The strippers are moving, showing everything they have, but my body doesn’t react. They do nothing for me, and I couldn’t care less.

My thoughts inevitably drift back to Nora. The memory of her kneeling between my legs, her wide, innocent eyes on me as her soft lips wrapped around my cock, sends a surge of heat through me even now. The sensation of her mouth—warm, wet, and eager—sliding over me was overwhelming, almost unbearable in its intensity. Her tongue, tentative at first, then bolder, tracing every ridge, every inch of my flesh, had me gripping the chair for control. I could feel her submission in every movement, the way she gave herself to me completely, trusting me to take what I needed. That moment—her mouth, her surrender—was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She was mine, and the way she let me have her, fully and without reservation, set something primal in me alight. I craved her surrender, and I loved the way she gave it—completely and without hesitation. In that moment, she was mine, and I knew I’d never want anything less than all of her.

“Ready?”

Leo’s voice snaps me back to the present, catching me off guard—something that never happens. I quickly compose myself, hoping he didn’t notice. Even in the dim light of the club, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. Paolo told me Leo had a rough time at the warehouse, vomiting more than once. I don’t feel guilty though. He needs to see the consequences of his actions—the dark, grim reality of the world we’re in. I’ve sheltered him for too long, cleaned up after him for too long.

I stand and adjust my jacket, following him to his office. I could’ve gone in alone—nobody would dare stop me—but I don’t want to undermine him despite his reckless behavior.

“Where were you? I don’t like being kept waiting.”

Leo stiffens as we head up the stairs. I’m already anticipating the lie that’s about to spill from his lips. “I was busy with stock things.”

“I see.”

Once inside his office, I take a seat on the sofa near the door as Leo moves to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch. His hand is shaking slightly, and I don’t miss it.

“So, you’re here for the investigation,” he says, his voice tense.

I nod. “I am. I need to keep up the charade.” I sigh, leaning back.

“Will…” He clears his throat. “Is there anything to find?” He downs his first glass in one go and immediately pours himself another.

“No. I’m nothing if not thorough. If you did your part right, everything will be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

He winces, nodding, and drinks his second glass, then reaches for the bottle again.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I ask, my tone low.

His hand hovers over the bottle, and he looks at me, a haunted expression moving across his face. “You know what it smells like when a body is dissolving?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I still smell it, Rafaele. Everywhere I go, whatever I do… I smell it.” He raises his arm, sniffing his sleeve. “I feel like it’s on me… like it’s soaked into my skin.”

“You get used to it.” I surprise myself by offering reassurance. Nora’s softening influence on me is undeniable, though I’m not sure I like it in this moment.

“But that’s the thing—I don’t want to get used to it!” he snaps, his voice rising, raw with frustration. “I don’t want this!”

Here we go again, another one of Leo’s tantrums. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Then stop fucking up, and you won’t have any messes to clean. Do you know how many people I’ve killed, maimed, and tortured to protect you, to save your ass over the years, little brother?”

I shake my head, the frustration creeping into my voice. “No, you don’t because you don’t care. You want the glory, the power, but none of the grim reality that comes with it. And that’s fine—up to a point. I’m happy to shield you as much as I can, but I need you to keep your head down.”

I stand up, towering over him now. “I can’t protect you forever, Leo. I thought you’d learn, but I realize now you never will if I keep protecting you the way I do.”

Leo’s grip tightens around the bottle, his knuckles turning white, his eyes wild with a mixture of anger and fear. “Rafa… I don’t want this,” he whispers, his voice cracking. For a moment, I see the scared boy he used to be, hiding behind all that bravado.

“I know,” I say quietly, “but this is the life you chose. Father gave you an out when you turned eighteen, and you didn’t take it. That’s more consideration than he ever gave me.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “You wouldn’t have walked away either, sottocapo. You’re good at what you do—you like it too much. And why did I stay?” He shrugs, his voice bitter. “What choice did I have?”

I sigh, glancing at my watch. A few more minutes, and I’ll have been here long enough for my father’s spies to report that I’m doing the investigation as expected.

“Keep your head down for now,” I tell him firmly. “Deal with your club. Don’t fuck with other organizations. And if you want something, come to me first. I’ll handle it.”

Leo looks up at me, a sad, resigned smile on his face. “Even against your father?”

I glance up at the ceiling, silently begging God for more patience with this boy. “What do you think I’ve been doing all these years?” I mutter.

“One day, you’ll be the capo,” he says quietly.

I don’t respond. We both know what’s expected of me. Instead, I take a step closer, my voice lowering to a cold, controlled edge. “Don’t mistake my loyalty to our blood for weakness. If your actions bring harm to me or my family, I won’t hesitate. I will kill you.” I would kill for Nora, of course I will, and it’s time for me to admit it to myself and to my brother.

Leo’s eyes widen, the gravity of my words sinking in. He swallows hard, his grip loosening on the bottle. “I get it, Rafa. I won’t fuck up again.”

I don’t respond, giving him one final, hard look before turning toward the door. The severity of our conversation weighs on me, but I don’t let it slow me down. I’ve said what needed to be said, and now it’s up to him to make his choices.

As I step out of the office and into the dimly lit hallway, the cool night air hits me as I push through the exit. Paolo is waiting in the car, playing on his phone.

“You look like you need a drink,” Paolo says, his eyes scanning my face as I approach the car.

“I need more than that,” I mutter, sliding into the passenger seat. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Paolo starts the engine, the hum of the motor filling the silence as we drive away from the club, leaving Leo and his mess behind—for now.

“The Russian called. Said he couldn’t reach you,” Paolo adds after a moment.

“What did he say?”

Paolo snorts. “The usual. Where’s the boss? I need to talk to him… then some colorful Russian swearing.”

“Paolo,” I growl.

“Alright, fine. He said he’s got some leads and wants to meet you at that chlamydia bar on Friday evening.”

I stiffen. Any night but Friday. “No.” I grab the phone and call Alexei.

“Алло?” The Russian greeting crackles through the line.

“It’s Lucchese. You suggested Friday—it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, really? Something more important than taking out traitors?” His sarcasm bites through the phone.

Yes , my mind screams, surprising even me. “Can we do another day?”

“Нет,” he replies, his voice firm. “I need a couple of days to finalize things, and I’m heading to Moscow on Saturday. Friday’s the only option.”

I glance at Paolo, considering. “I’ll send Paolo instead. He has my full authority.”

Paolo shoots me a surprised look, and I can’t blame him—I’ve kept him in the dark about this whole situation.

“If you trust him enough,” Alexei says, sounding skeptical.

“With my life,” I reply firmly.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, Alexei weighing my words. “Alright,” he finally says. “I’ll expect him Friday then. Make sure he’s up to speed on everything. I won’t tolerate any missteps.”

“He’ll be ready,” I say, glancing back over at Paolo, whose face is filled with surprise and curiosity.

“Good,” Alexei responds, his tone clipped. “Don’t forget, Lucchese, I’m doing this for you. Make sure it’s worth my time.”

I grit my teeth, fighting back the urge to snap at him. “You’re doing that for both of us. Don’t make it sound like a favor, Pakhan.”

“Friday, then.” The line goes dead, the Russian hanging up without a goodbye.

I lower the phone, tossing it onto the dashboard. Paolo doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps driving, but I can feel his curiosity growing.

“So… I’m meeting with Alexei now?” Paolo finally asks, trying to keep his tone light.

“You are,” I reply. “I trust you to handle it.”

“Didn’t expect you to delegate something like this. What’s going on?”

I rub my temples, the stress from the last few days settling in. “I’ve got… other priorities.”

“Like?”

I clear my throat, feeling an unfamiliar twinge of vulnerability. “Nora mentioned once that she’s never been to the opera. I managed to get premium seats for La Bohème .”

Paolo blinks at me, then snorts in disbelief. “You… you’re skipping Alexei for an opera?”

“No,” I correct him, my voice firmer. “I’m skipping a potential waste of time for Nora. My wife. She matters to me.”

His jaw drops for a second before he closes it again. “Oh right,” he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Did you know that the sea is salty?”

I turn to him, utterly confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I thought we were playing 'state the fucking obvious,'” he replies with a straight face.

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling the frustration boiling over. “One day, Paolo, I swear I’m going to stab you.”

He grins, completely unfazed. “Yeah, it’ll be well deserved.” He looks back at the road, his grin softening into something more genuine. “But hey, you deserve her, you know. Nora. You really do.”

For a moment, his words hit me harder than I expected. I don’t deserve her, but the fact that she’s here— mine —makes me want to prove it, even if I don’t believe it yet.

I glance at my watch as we pull into the club’s parking lot. I don’t have much time— nothing is pressing here that can’t wait, but there’s something urgent I need to do. I need to spend at least an hour with Nora before she goes to bed. Our moments in the library have become the highlight of my day. Where I once went home for peace and quiet, now I go for her—for her smile, her quiet strength. After a day filled with darkness, she’s the light I crave.

But Nora tires easily, and while I love carrying her to bed when she falls asleep in the library, what I really want is more time with her—her brilliant mind, her presence.

“You should go home,” Paolo says, cutting through my thoughts.

I hate how well he reads me sometimes. “I just need to grab a few things from my office,” I say, but I don’t move. I sit there, staring at the club’s back entrance. “I trust you, Paolo. You’re my best friend.”

Paolo rolls his eyes. “Are we playing ‘state the fucking obvious’ again?”

I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “This situation with the Russians… I suspect it’s deeper and more problematic than we thought. I need you to promise me something—don’t act on anything or anyone without talking to me first.”

He’s silent for a beat before turning to me. “Who are you trying to protect?”

I don’t need to answer. He already knows. There aren’t many people I’d go out of my way to shield.

“I’m not sure yet,” I admit.

Paolo nods, his expression softening. “You know I’ve always got your back.”

“I know,” I say, grateful for the unwavering loyalty. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I’ve got a wife waiting for me.”

Paolo grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I like seeing this side of you.”

I smirk. “You know what? I think I do too.”

But, of course, life—or karma—has other plans. As I step into my office, I find my father sitting behind my desk. The sight of him there, in my space, makes my blood boil, but I keep my expression neutral. It’s been years since he showed up here in what is now my empire, and I’m not about to let him think otherwise.

“Father,” I say, my tone cool but polite. “How lovely to see you back here. Are you here to take over for a bit so I can take a holiday with my wife? Palermo is beautiful this time of year.”

He frowns, clearly displeased that I didn’t take the bait. I’m not Leo, and he should know better by now.

“No,” he says, his voice clipped. “This place isn’t mine anymore. I came to check on your investigation. Fredo isn’t a traitor.”

I shrug, settling into a chair across from him. “Based on the evidence I’ve got, it looks like he is. We’ve got footage of him meeting with the cartel guy several times. We see the guy getting out of Fredo’s car, and we see Fredo getting into it.” I lean back, trying to keep my tone neutral. Vargas’s tech guy is a genius. He worked miracles on those tapes.

“There were rumors about drug dealing in the club,” I add.

“Yes, involving your brother!” My father’s voice booms, filling the room. “I was just waiting for enough evidence to—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. And honestly, I’m relieved he doesn’t finish the sentence because I’m not sure who I would have to side with in that scenario.

“Well, the rumors were right,” I say, trying to keep the conversation focused. “But as far as I can tell, Leo isn’t the one behind it. I found account details in Fredo’s apartment—offshore accounts in the Caribbean. The money there… let’s just say it’s more than enough to raise some serious suspicion.” I whistle for effect, but my father’s eyes remain narrowed.

I decide to play into his narrative. “Come on, we both know Leo’s too stupid to pull off something like this. If he were involved, I would’ve found something.”

He sighs, the tension in his posture easing as he slumps back in his chair. “You’re right,” he mutters. He stands up, done with whatever he was trying to find here. “I will have Fredo found and brought to me. We’ll see what he has to say for himself.”

I nod. “As you should.”

He studies me for a moment, then the tension in the room seems to ease as he changes the subject. “So, when is the heir coming?”

The question is unexpected, and the image of Nora pregnant flashes in my mind—round with my child, glowing with life. It stirs something primal inside me, an unfamiliar feeling of longing combined with a protective instinct I’ve never felt before.

“We’re working on it,” I reply, my voice steady but my mind racing.

“Good, good,” he says, standing up to leave. “A Lucchese heir will solidify your position. Don’t wait too long.”

I watch as he leaves, my mind still spinning with thoughts of Nora. Once he’s gone, I grab my laptop and leave, breaking most of the speed limits as I rush home.

The urgency to see her— to be near her—drives me faster, and when I finally walk into the house, it’s all worth it. I find my beautiful wife curled up on the sofa in the library, a book in her hands and Fate lying peacefully beside her. The soft glow of the fire illuminates her face, and she looks so serene, so perfectly at home in this space that used to feel cold and empty.

She could easily be reading in bed, but she’s here, waiting for me. A warmth spreads through my chest, and I hope that maybe—just maybe—she’s starting to enjoy my presence as much as I do hers.

Though probably not as much as I do—because mine is quickly turning into something more than just affection. It’s turning into obsession.

But for now, seeing her like this, content and safe, it’s enough.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping closer to her. She looks up, a small smile playing on her lips, and in that moment, everything outside this room fades away. It’s just us. Just her.

“Rafaele, how was your day?” she asks.

“Good.” Better now .

Before I can overthink it, I lean down and kiss her forehead, then instead of taking the chair across from the sofa, I grab her feet and sit there, pulling them onto my lap. She arches her eyebrows in surprise, but the soft smile on her face widens, and she snuggles deeper into the cushions, getting more comfortable.

I slide my hands under the blanket and rest them on her dainty feet, giving them a gentle squeeze. Fate shoots me a glare from her spot beside Nora, and I glare right back.

Sorry, sweet girl, but you’ll need to learn to share. She was mine first.

Nora lets out a soft, content sigh, her eyes closing for a moment, and I feel something shift between us—a connection that goes beyond words. This is it, I think. This is what I’ve been craving. The quiet, the closeness, the calm of just being here with her.

“I had my introduction lecture today for my master’s,” she says, breaking the silence.

“Oh, how did that go?”

She opens her eyes and meets mine. “Good. I’m excited about it. Thank you.”

I squeeze her foot gently before sliding my thumb up and down the top of it. She shivers at the contact, and it makes me smile. It’s funny—touch used to mean nothing to me. Now, I crave it from her. Her hands on me—my hands, mouth, and tongue on her soft skin. I’m grateful that she seems to feel the same way.

“You never need to thank me,” I say quietly. “You deserve it. It’s not for me to decide what you do or don’t do.”

She nudges me with her foot playfully. “Look at that—my husband, a feminist.”

I chuckle, but then her words sink in. “Are you impressed?”

“I’m impressed by everything you do,” she says, so simply, so earnestly, not realizing how much her words hit me. I crave that—her being impressed, proud of me. It’s something I didn’t even know I needed until now.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods. “Sure.”

“Why literature? I mean, why are you so into it? I find it fascinating, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always wondered what draws you to it.”

She glances down at Fate, gently stroking her fur. “It’s… well, it might sound a little silly, but this life we live—especially for women—is so restrictive. And we all have limitations, don’t we? Reading was my way of experiencing the world, of escaping beyond those limits. Since I was a little girl, books were my window to everything—adventures, emotions, places I couldn’t go. It was like magic.”

She laughs softly, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in it. “I guess that sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“Actually, it doesn’t.” I pause, looking at her, understanding more now. “It’s the best reason there could be. Through stories, you’ve lived countless lives—each one offering a new world, a new beginning.” My voice is quieter than I expected, laced with an unfamiliar longing. Is that why I’ve always been drawn to books too? Have I been trying to escape the confines of my own life?

She smiles at my words, her eyes soft. “Look at us, being the same,” she jokes, but then her smile fades slightly. She watches me closely. “You look tired again,” she says, her voice gentle with concern.

I hesitate for a moment, but something inside me shifts. I trust her. More than anyone. “I am tired,” I admit. “Leo messed up—again.”

Her brow furrows, and I continue. “He got himself mixed up with people he never should have been involved with. It wasn’t his idea—someone else put the thought in his head—but he went along with it, and he won’t tell me who. I made him clean up this time and make the bodies disappear. But I fear I pushed him too far.”

She listens carefully, her expression thoughtful, not judgmental. That’s one of the things I love about her—she doesn’t flinch or shy away, even when I lay out the worst parts of my life.

“You’re worried your father will look too much into it, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice gentle but knowing.

I nod. “I am. If he digs deeper, this could spiral out of control.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Then create a diversion. You know him better than anyone—find something that’ll draw his attention somewhere else, something he’ll be more interested in. Give him a problem he can’t resist solving.”

Her insight hits me hard, and I’m struck, not for the first time, by just how clever she is.

“I can give him something else to focus on.”

She smiles softly, but there’s a glint of pride in her eyes. “Good. You’ve got this, Rafaele.”

I lean back, still holding her foot, my thumb brushing the soft skin. “I knew you were smart, but…” I shake my head, smiling. “You’re more than just clever. You’re cunning.”

Her smile widens, and she gives a little laugh. “I just want to help.”

“And you do,” I say, my voice lowering as I watch her closely. “More than you know.”

I pause, then add, “Speaking of helping… I have a surprise for you. I got us premium seats for La Bohème this Friday.”

Her face lights up instantly, and she throws her arms around me. “You’re serious? That’s amazing!”

I smile, pulling her close. “It’s for you. You deserve it.”

She pulls back just enough to kiss me, soft and tender at first but quickly deepening, becoming more heated. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her even closer, the warmth between us growing. But then she winces, just slightly.

I stop immediately. “Are you in pain?”

She shakes her head, giving me a reassuring smile. “I think I just pulled a muscle. It’s fine.”

I narrow my eyes, concerned. “You sure?”

She yawns softly, waving it off. “Really, it’s nothing. Just tired.”

I kiss her forehead gently. “Alright. Go to bed. I’ll be up soon.”

She nods, standing up slowly. As I watch her go, a quiet sense of awe fills me. She’s so much more than I expected, and every day, I find myself more drawn to her.

It’s becoming more than just affection. I’ve never craved someone the way I crave her—not just her body, but her mind, her insight. She’s not just a wife; she’s my equal. My queen.

When the door closes behind her, I lean back on the sofa, letting the silence settle around me. The library feels incomplete without her. It’s like she’s woven into the very air I breathe, making every space she leaves behind feel a little emptier.

I smile to myself, thinking about how excited she was for the opera. Friday can’t come fast enough.

But then, the smile fades as I remember the way she winced earlier. She brushed it off, but I can’t ignore the nagging worry. She’s too strong, too proud to show weakness, and I know she’s hiding something. I just hope, in time, she’ll trust me enough to let me in. I want to help her, just like she helps me—because now, I’m hers, just as much as she’s mine.

And no matter what happens, we’ll always belong to each other.