5. Portia
PORTIA
Rafael stands the moment he sees me, as if we’re polite strangers meeting for the first time and not two ex-lovers with a history.
I gift him a demure smile and stand back as he pulls out my chair and tells me how beautiful I look. I’ve dressed for the occasion—dinner at Sullivans is no easy feat to pull off with advance notice, let alone last minute.
But for a billionaire businessman like Rafael Calderone, the impossible is always possible.
Who was going to tell him no ?
Rafael has rarely heard the word over the years. One of the reasons, I’ve come to realize, he’s so drawn to me.
He’s told me himself he likes a chase; he likes that I’m a challenge .
Tonight, I’ve dressed for distraction. I’m in a form-fitted dress made of sheer black organza that blends with the nude brown mesh underneath, playing an optical illusion in how it shows off my figure.
The ruching on the sides creates a classic hourglass shape while the sheer fabric makes it seem I’m showing more skin than I am.
The straps are thin and delicate, showing off my neck and shoulders just like Rafael loves. I’ve kept my hair down, hanging over my back, my bangs framing my face. A bold but classic red lip and some falsies were the finishing touch.
As I slide into the seat and Rafael pushes in my chair, he lingers a second. His hands rest on the back, precariously close to my bare shoulders. I hold my breath, a sudden warmth flooding me at how wrong this could go.
We’re both well aware of our attraction for each other.
Being in such close proximity might not be the smartest play for either of us. I catch a note of his cologne the same way he must recognize my perfume as he moves to the other side of his table and takes his seat.
Rafael looks fine in his tailored all-black two-piece suit. His beard has grown in thicker, and he still possesses that enigmatic gleam in his dark gaze that instantly sends a shiver racking down my spine.
“Thanks for joining me, dolcezza,” he says. “Aren’t I a lucky man? Dining with the most beautiful woman in the city tonight.”
My demure smile remains as I keep the humor from my tone. “Aren’t I a lucky woman? Dining in the most expensive restaurant in the city tonight—and on such short notice. You must’ve had to break a few arms to get us this table tonight.”
“Or make a single phone call,” he says coolly. “I called in a favor. They made room for me.”
“I suppose it’s that easy when you’re a billionaire.”
…or a mobster.
I keep that second part to myself as the corner of Rafael’s mouth merely quirks as though amused.
Our server arrives to offer us tonight’s wine selections.
Rafael doesn’t even glance at the menu as he rattles off my favorite, ordering a bottle that costs several hundred with the ease of most people buying a pack of gum at the store.
It’s nothing to him, not even a blip on the radar. Last year, he threw Jayla a birthday party that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.
…maybe more than that when you racked up the total in damages to his super yacht.
As his girlfriend, I learned to stop being surprised by how easy he drops cash like most people breathe air. But in hindsight, I’m not sure how I didn’t pick up on it sooner—an Italian businessman like Rafael gives off the vibe of every mafia boss I’ve ever investigated…
“Well?” Rafael asks, startling me from my thoughts. The server has left and we’re alone again.
I blink a few times. “Well… what?”
“How have you been? It’s been months since we’ve talked. I don’t count last night at the gala—you were not yourself.”
“You mean I was pissed?” I laugh at myself, giving a shake of my head. “In my defense, that’s been happening a lot lately. At least as far as work’s concerned. It’s made me question if I’ve—you know what? You probably don’t want to hear about that.”
“Why would you say that? I asked, didn’t I?”
“We’re having dinner. Sullivans is the best steakhouse in the city, maybe the country. The last thing you should be forced to listen to as you enjoy your ribeye is me whining about my job.”
“Dolcezza, after months of radio silence from you, any word you speak is a luxury. You could be reading from the dictionary and I would be interested.”
My cheeks warm as our server returns with our bottle of Malbec. We place our orders as he’s done pouring, each ordering one of the succulent steaks Sullivans is known for.
The moment we’re alone again, Rafael grabs hold of the stem of his wine glass and raises both brows at me.
“Are you going to tell me?” he prompts.
I almost roll my eyes, fighting off a smile. It’s so easy to forget how charming he can be; how he has a natural swagger about him that’s effortless and really lowers your defenses.
If I’m not careful tonight, he could really have me not keeping my wits about me. He’s that damn disarming and seems to know he is.
“It’s just the difference between ANC and Metro,” I say, sighing. I take a sip from the dark juicy wine, the plum taste on my tongue. “I guess I’m just so used to how things were there. But I have to get used to how ANC does things.”
“And how does ANC do things?”
“Shut up, sit down, and color. In that order.”
He tilts his head to the side as I take another sip of wine. “You made a suggestion to your boss he didn’t take under consideration?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I get it—they have a formula that works. I’m just a news anchor. I don’t get to decide the news. That’s above my pay grade. All they need me to do is smile at the camera and read from the teleprompter.”
I don’t mean to sound so pitiful as I laugh softly, but I can see how Rafael’s jaw sets. He doesn’t like what he’s hearing. I second guess what I’ve told him, rushing to add more context, though he cuts me off before I can.
“I’m sure Joe Germanotta will have a change of heart,” he says vaguely. “I’m sure he’ll be more open to what you say in the future.”
“How would you know that?”
He gives a shrug. “I have a feeling. But Joe wasn’t what upset you at the gala. He wasn’t even there. So what did?”
“You’re too observant for your own good.”
“It pays off in many ways. You’d be surprised, dolcezza.” He winks at me and makes my stomach flip.
“It was Charles Whitmore. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him?—”
“Head of content for ANC,” Rafael interrupts smoothly, unsurprised by the name drop. “He was there last night. Chuck is confused about the times; he still thinks it’s the early 2000s where he can say and do whatever he pleases with no repercussions. What did he say to you?”
I hesitate half a second, realizing telling Rafael this kind of information feels a lot like snitching. It feels a lot like I’ll look at the news headlines tomorrow and see one about Charles Whitmore being found mysteriously slain in cold blood.
“He was just… he called my work at Metro ‘charming little pieces’. He said he hoped I understood my role in the process. That was when he wasn’t calling me doll .
” I let out a sigh and push my shoulders back, meeting Rafael’s gaze from across the table.
“But I told him off. I gave him a piece of my mind. So it’s been handled. ”
“Chuck has a way of… crossing lines,” Rafael says simply.
He cracks his neck as if agitated by the thought of the news mogul.
His expression has darkened, tightening with tension.
Then it vanishes like he’s realized he’s given away too much.
He scrubs at his jaw and adds a half-grin.
“But I’m sure he’ll realize the error of his ways someday.
I bet you had him looking like a fool when you told him off. ”
“I’d like to think so. I didn’t hang around long enough to find out.”
“You have a way with words, dolcezza. Trust me, the stronzo probably turned red in the face.”
I chuckle, sipping from my wine. “But I’ve talked enough about myself. What about you? You… you look great. Have you been well?”
He gives a nod. “I’ve been as well as can be. I’ve missed you… us…”
“You made a choice. I adapted to that choice.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue, especially as the wine enters my system and warms me up from the inside—I want to ask him why .
A real answer, not the watered down reasoning he gave in the letter he wrote me and left on the bedside table.
He claimed being with him put me in danger; it cost me career opportunities, and he refused to hold me back.
But it has rung hollow from the moment I read that damn letter. It felt like the excuses you give when you’re covering up the real truth that’s much uglier.
“You have,” he admits. “You’ve adapted well. You’ve moved on without me. Can I really be upset that you have? I don’t have that right anymore.”
“You won’t ever again. Hurt me once, Rafael, shame on you. But hurt me twice…”
“I realize that. I squandered that chance with you. I don’t expect another chance. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve even agreed to dinner…”
Silence settles over the table for a moment.
I drop my gaze to where I’ve folded my cloth napkin into my lap.
The truth is, I came here tonight with the full intention of extracting information from Rafael. My investigation has seen new life breathed into it, and Rafael is obviously a key component I’ve long ignored out of personal feelings and bias.
But as the wine leaves me flushed and we talk in such an intimate setting, my goal is already slipping out of focus.
The proof that Sigler’s niece gave me is circumstantial. There’re still a thousand different explanations that could possibly answer the questions that have arisen.
It doesn’t mean Rafael is affiliated with the Bellucci crime family. It doesn’t mean he’s a gangster himself.
Jumping to any kind of conclusions would be foolish.
“I’ve realized we’re probably always going to have a connection,” I say finally, braving a glance over at him. “It’s just one of those things some exes share.”