Chapter 31 Cesare #2
Rafael glanced up at me, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I’m me,” he said with a choked laugh. “I’m still me, Cesare.
That story I told you in Paris? It was you.
You saved me, and I saw you, and I fell in love with you.
” He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“I was in love with you for so long it felt like dying. Like I was missing a limb that was right there. And I had to watch you with her. Every time you were with Gabriela, I was left hurting. Aching. Vowing that I would get to you. That I would love you the way that you deserved." He shook his head. “And I’m sorry. I am. But I’m not sorry that I made my way to you. I will never be sorry for that,” he sobbed.
I stared down at him. All at once, his story in Paris made sense.
The older man. Yeah, that had been me. I hadn’t thought about it then, but now I remembered that day.
For me, it was just a moment in a lifetime of moments, but as I thought about it, I remembered the smell of street food, the sound of distant music as I stomped some asshole into the ground with expensive Italian loafers.
And some scrawny kid that I had watched over for a few days to make sure he didn’t die.
All because I couldn’t stand kids hurting; I never could.
And he had looked at me like I had saved him.
Then I had forgotten it all.
“Gabriela,” I said, finally really hearing his words about her. “You’re her brother.”
Rafael nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I am. I kept my mothers maiden name. I refused to change it.”
I shook my head. “What did you orchestrate?” I asked. “The hit? Things I don't even know about?”
He shivered. “I swear to god, none of it. None of it, Cesare. Benito’s having shit happen too that I know you wouldn’t do. Something happened with his daughter. Him and Harlow, they were upset. Really upset.”
The bruise forming on his face was impossible to miss.
I’d seen the report from Andrew, but I also knew it was a lie.
Rafael hadn’t been sparing with anyone, he’d been meeting up with my son and Harlow.
My stomach knotted as anger bubbled under the surface.
Had Benito fucking touched what was mine? My hand tightened around the gun.
Rafael hiccuped and stared up at me with tears streaking his face. I hated the weakness that wanted to pull him into my arms.
“I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is I’m caught in the middle, and I hate it.”
I stepped toward him so quickly he flinched. “You think I give a fuck about your feelings? Sitting there on my floor as you admit you betrayed me, you what? Want me to feel sympathy for you?” I raised the gun. “You’re still a traitor.”
His shoulders raised. “I didn’t want to,” he said. “I didn’t. I gave as little as I possibly could—”
“You think a rat with optics isn’t still a rat?” I snapped. I pushed the muzzle against his forehead and another sob broke free from his lips. My heart squeezed and it made me shove the gun against his skin harder. “You need to die.”
Rafael tensed, his body shaking. I watched every tremor that passed over his body, every bit of skin that tried to recoil from the gun’s touch.
“I’ll still love you,” he whispered. “Even if I’m dead? I won’t stop. I’ll love you forever.”
My heart pounded in my chest. Some part of me brought up the past. His laughter, the way he pouted, his cute moans, the way he touched me when I felt at my worst. It all clouded my vision. No, more than my vision.
The fucking heart I thought was dead but clearly wasn’t.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I said evenly as I dropped the gun. “Don’t grab your shit, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me. You get up right now and you leave. If you hesitate? I’ll kill you, whore. And you know I will.”
Rafael made a strangled noise in his throat as he looked up at me. He searched my face as if trying to see if I was serious. Or maybe he was just trying to look at me one last time. Part of me realized, he had nothing.
“Grab one bag,” I snapped. “Then go.” When he didn’t move, I pointed the gun at him again. “Now!” I yelled.
Rafael scrambled to his feet and raced to his room. His room. The one that I had given him but that he didn’t even use because he was always in my bed. In my arms. My throat felt like it was trying to close.
He came back out not even ten minutes later as I drank the whiskey I’d poured in his absence. I watched him head to the elevator. And I saw the way he kept me in his gaze out of the corner of his eyes. Slowly, he glanced back and his lips parted.
“Uh-uh,” I snapped, lifting the gun. “Get the fuck out.”
The bell dinged.
Rafael stepped into the elevator and turned around. Our eyes met, and any part of my heart that still existed shriveled up and died. His eyes were wet, his cheeks stained by his tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
The door slid shut as I heard the sob break. Metal swallowed his sounds, and I stared as he descended to the ground below. I stumbled to the couch and plopped down. My clothes were disheveled, my hair wild when I caught a glimpse of myself in the black TV screen.
“Pspspspsps,” I called finally after sitting there for way too long. “Kitten, come here. Where are you?” I muttered.
He didn’t come. My chest tightened. He always came, just like Rafael did when I called him. Now, there was no inane chatter. No soft meows. And I didn’t even know where either of them had gone.
I shoved my hands onto my face and tilted my head back against the couch. Everything was gone. All of it.
I had nothing left to lose.
Might as well burn it all down.