Page 7

Chapter Six

Rafaele

I ’m getting married tomorrow, and here I am, sitting with Paolo in the library of my father's house, drinking one too many glasses of brandy. I refused the repulsive idea of a stag party, opting instead to enjoy my last night as a single man the only way I know how: in peace and silence, with Paolo.

Of course, that's assuming I even have a bride tomorrow. I know she’s in the house—or at least that’s what my father and the staff say—but I haven’t seen or heard from Nora since I completely screwed up after that text she sent me.

Her message about the espresso in the cake caught me off guard. It touched me more than something so small and stupid should have. She did something thinking of me, and somehow, it seemed significant. But instead of responding, I just stared at the screen until my eyes crossed. I thought about taking her out for dinner, maybe getting to know her better, but that’s when all hell broke loose.

The Bonanno second-in-command turned out to be involved in the betrayal. I dealt with him—permanently—and the judge got involved, even though Francisco claimed everything was fine. I ended up having to go to Sicily to deal with the original famiglia, asking for their approval to clean up the mess.

By the time I got back, I had a mountain of issues to handle, and I tried—I really did. Lucia mentioned that most women liked Hermes bags. Truth be told, they all look the same to me, but I got her one anyway. Sent it to her house. Didn’t even get a thank you text.

And then my brother’s words kept echoing in my mind. Why the hell would she pick me? My brother is a hedonistic idiot, but he’d probably handle her a million times better than I ever could.

I let out a loud groan, and Paolo glances over at me, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up, princess? Getting cold feet?”

“She had no reason to pick me,” I mutter, scratching at my jaw. “What’s her endgame?”

Paolo smirks, swirling his drink in his glass. “You think she’s playing you? Maybe she just sees something in you that you don’t.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “And what would that be?”

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe she’s looking for someone who can protect her. Someone who’s more than just a pretty face and a good time. Perhaps she’s smarter than we give her credit for.”

“I know she’s smart.”

“And very beautiful, too, in case you have not noticed.”

I glare at him. “Of course I noticed. I’m just not keen on you noticing it.”

He rolls his eyes. “If it makes you feel better, if I had to pick between you and your brother, I’d pick you too.”

I look at him for a second. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“You wish.” He sighs.

I take a long sip of my drink, considering his words. It’s possible, but it still doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not the kind of man who gets picked for anything good. I’m the man you choose when you want something done, something dirty, something no one else will do.

Paolo finishes his drink, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Just don’t screw it up tomorrow. You’ve got enough enemies out there; the last thing you need is to add your wife to that list.”

I snort, but there’s no real humor in it. “Right, because what I really need is another enemy.”

Paolo pats me on the shoulder as he stands. “You’ll figure it out, Rafa. You always do.”

I nod, even though the uncertainty still clings to me like a shadow. As Paolo turns to leave, I stare at the empty glass in my hand, the weight of tomorrow pressing down on me.

"I will figure it out," I mutter to myself, determination hardening in my chest.

Paolo pauses at the door, glancing back at me. “I’ll help you,” he offers, his voice steady.

“Okay, fine,” I say, suddenly making up my mind. I stand abruptly, setting the glass aside. “Help me get to her room.”

Paolo looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “Now?!”

“Yes, now.”

Without wasting another moment, we head outside. The night air is cool against my skin, the sky dark and clear. Paolo gives me a look that says he thinks I’m crazy, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he just follows me, his expression filled with amusement and concern.

We reach the side of the house, and I eye the first-floor window. Paolo shakes his head, but he bends down, lacing his fingers together to give me a boost.

“You really want to do this?” he asks, giving me one last chance to back out. “This can blow up really bad.”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “Help me up.”

With a grunt, I step into Paolo’s hands, and he lifts me, giving me just enough height to grab hold of the windowsill. I pull myself up, the muscles in my arms straining as I get a grip and swing a leg over the ledge.

Paolo lets out a low whistle as I’m about to disappear into the darkness of Nora’s room. “Good luck, Rafa.”

Ignoring the pounding in my chest, I steady myself, quietly pushing open the window and slipping inside. I’m annoyed that she didn’t check if the window was locked. This is careless, but also, who would dare do what I just did?

The room is dimly lit, and I take a moment to let my eyes adjust, scanning the room for any sign of Nora, who is sitting at the vanity, looking at the mirror, but her eyes are unseeing. She’s dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas with dogs on them, and I’m struck once again by how young she looks.

Only twenty-two…

I rethink my decision to be here—the alcohol clearly making me act more impulsively than I should have. I take a step back, considering leaving before she notices, but the movement breaks her from her trance.

She spins around, her hand flying to her heart. “Rafaele, what are you doing here? I’m not dressed to receive anyone.”

I shrug, trying to maintain my composure. “You’ll be my wife tomorrow. I’ll see far more than this then.”

She blushes, and despite the situation, I find myself liking the color on her cheeks. Focus, Rafaele.

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” she protests, her voice softer now.

I step further into the room. “Oh, really? I’m sure you consider yourself particularly lucky to be pushed into this arrangement.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asks, quickly changing the subject.

I take another step closer, inhaling the scent that lingers in the air—a faint mix of vanilla and something a little spicier. It’s subtle like it’s meant just for me, drawing me in. It’s her in every way—comfort and allure, softness and strength. And I never want to forget it.

“I sent you a bag. Did you get it?” I ask, walking deeper into her space now.

She nods, turning fully to face me. “I did, yes. Thank you. My mother loves it.” She wrinkles her nose, and I can’t help but find it endearing. “It’s not really my style.”

Damn you, Lucia! “No, I suppose it’s not.” I lean my hip against the side of the dresser, placing myself between her and the door. She looks pale, the circles under her eyes a little darker, and I find myself worrying about her, which is ridiculous. She knows exactly who she chose.

“Why are you marrying me?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks, clearly taken aback.

“Why are you marrying me, Nora?”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Does it really matter? I was given a choice between two men, and I picked you.”

“Leo was the obvious choice,” I admit, though it costs me to say it. “Why me?”

“I told you before because of the power and money.”

“No, you didn’t. You lied to me before, and I allowed it, but I’m not going to marry you without the real reason.” I scoff, the frustration building. “You’re a terrible liar, Nora Falcone, and I have little patience for liars. If you were into power and money, you would have passed the engagement ring test with flying colors. Instead of picking the one that cost eighty-five thousand dollars, you chose the one that cost fourteen thousand. So, let me ask again—why are you marrying me?”

“Does it matter?” she snaps, her voice rising. “It’s not like you’re in love with me or that you even care. You were ordered by your father to accept.”

I purse my lips, not particularly fond of hearing about my own lack of choice. “You see, the thing is, I need to have at least a modicum of trust in the people who live in my home, and right now, nothing adds up. You don’t want to say? Fine!”

I start undoing my belt, popping open the first button of my pants, and pulling my shirt out, ruffling my hair to add to the effect.

“What are you doing?” she asks, shock and anger in her voice.

“I’m going to walk out of this room looking like this, telling everyone the wedding is off because you’re not a virgin. Let’s see how your family deals with the shame.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she might actually want to kill me. She purses her lips tightly as I reach for the door handle.

“Your funeral,” I mutter, just as I press down on the handle.

“I can never love you,” she cries out, her voice breaking.

I stop in my tracks, my hand freezing. Turning slowly, I see the tears welling up in her eyes, her entire body trembling with the enormity of those words. “What?”

She sighs, slumping in her seat. “I picked you because I know I will never love you.”

“And you could love Leo?” I ask, my voice sharp, demanding.

She shakes her head, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “I don't think so. He’s far too full of himself, but he’s also a charmer, and there’s a risk. But you? You don’t play games. You don't care if I like you or not. You won’t go out of your way to be nice. You couldn’t even bother to text me back, and honestly, that’s for the best. That’s why I chose you—because I know my heart is safe. That's God's honest truth.”

Her words hit me like a slap in the face. I expected excuses, lies, maybe even fear—but not this.

“So you picked me because I’m emotionless and won’t care for you?” I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at her. “Would it be so bad to love your husband?”

“In our world? Yes, absolutely.” She lets out a bitter laugh, her voice laced with frustration and resignation. “My mother loved my father, and it broke her. Men like you are different—you’re unable to give the love a woman deserves. We’ll always be second choice at best, or just a commercial transaction.” She snorts, shaking her head as if she’s mocking the very idea. “The irony isn’t lost on me, trust me. But I know what I'm getting into. My heart is protected, so you don’t need to try by sending me bags. But don’t worry, I’ll be your dutiful wife—I’ll do everything that’s expected of me.”

Her words, spoken with such calm certainty, irritate me more than I care to admit. “Protected?” I echo, my voice hardening as my irritation grows. “And what exactly does that mean, Nora? What do you think is expected of you?”

She looks at me, her eyes defiant, challenging. “I’ll attend your events, stand by your side, and play the role of the perfect wife. I’ll run your household, turn a blind eye to your extra-marital affairs, and bear your children as expected.”

I thought I couldn’t get more annoyed, but her words push me further. “Is that right? You won’t care that I sleep around?”

“Well, as long as you use precautions with them,” she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. My frown deepens at her indifference. “I mean, if you want to have children with me, but then you do what you want. I’ll make sure the Lucchese name is upheld. But that’s all it will ever be—a role. I’ll never give you more than what’s required.”

Her words, so cold and calculated, stir something deep within me—anger and disbelief. I can’t help but feel like she’s testing me, pushing me to see how far she can go before I snap. And right now, I’m dangerously close.

“What about you?” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. “Do you expect me to turn a blind eye to your lovers?” The fury that surges inside me at the thought of another man’s hands on her is almost blinding. I lean forward, so close that I can see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes. “If you think you can cheat, know there’s another thing coming. Because I can tell you—if you’ve never seen the monster, you will when you see me kill him in front of you.”

"No, you don't have to worry about me. You will get the faithfulness you expect from me." Her voice is steady, almost too steady as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s convincing me.

I narrow my eyes at her, searching for any sign of deceit. “Good,” I say, my voice cold. “Because if you ever betray me, there won’t be a place in this world where you’ll be safe.”

The silence between us is thick, heavy with unspoken words and tension. I study her for a moment longer, trying to figure out if she’s really as resigned to this life as she claims or if there’s something more beneath that calm exterior. But she doesn’t waver; she just holds my gaze, unflinching, as if daring me to see the truth.

Finally, I step back—my mind made up. “Tomorrow, we’ll do what needs to be done,” I say, my voice hardening with resolve. “And after that, we’ll see how well you can play your role as my wife.”

“Wait!” she calls out just as my hand reaches for the door handle again.

I pause, turning back to her, a part of me hoping—though I’m not sure why—that whatever she says next will calm the simmering anger that’s been boiling inside me. This anger feels misplaced, unjustified even, because I know this marriage is nothing more than a business transaction. Yet, I can’t help but hate the way she treats it as such, even though I should be relieved that she does. Less drama, less complication.

“You can’t go out like that,” she says, pointing at my disheveled appearance.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite everything. “There’s no one in this corridor,” I assure her. “The entry is blocked. I would never do something that careless.” I take a step closer, meeting her eyes. “Know this about me, fiancée—my role in the mafia may come first, but as my wife, you will never come last.”

With that, I turn and exit the room, leaving before she can say anything else that might ignite my anger further. As I walk down the hallway, my mind churns with conflicting emotions—this marriage might be a business deal, but it’s one I’m not willing to lose control over.