30. Rafael
RAFAEL
“It’s official,” says Adagio. “Anthony Citti’s taken over your operation in Newport. Gavino sent word he’s made it official. He’s heading the Nectar expansion and everything else that was yours.”
He’s walked into the parlor of the villa where we’re staying. I’m already seated with Maurizio as we discuss potential moves forward.
Now that the morning has faded and the afternoon has arrived, the sun has warmed up, its rays flooding the long open windows.
I sip from my limoncello in response to Adagio’s news, unconcerned by the revelation.
Mostly because it’s something I’d already anticipated from the moment we left Newport.
Though I had been unconscious for weeks while he took over my body, it’s not as if there weren’t already tensions between myself and Don Vito and his underboss.
If anything, Citti’s probably glad I’m out of the way. Now he can gradually push his junior into the role, like he won’t fuck it up the moment he tries to take over.
Adagio takes the lounge chair next to Maurizio’s and lets out a heavy breath.
“I guess it was obvious that would be the move. Who else could take over in your place?”
“Not Vincenzo,” Maurizio answers. “The operation would be better going without.”
Adagio laughs, folding his leg over his knee and stretching his arm over the back of his chair. “So what now? We bide our time in this postcard coastal village? I can’t complain too much with the beautiful woman in my bed.”
Maurizio releases a disgruntled breath. “You’ve been a player for how long? Now you’re a relationship man, belloccio?”
“What can I say? It seems the James women have something special about them.” Adagio shrugs and grins as he looks over at me.
I take another drink of my limoncello and point at them with my forefinger and pinky. “Both of you are like children. Always biting each other’s heads off. And yes—there is something special about the James women. And no—I don’t give a fuck if I’ve been replaced.”
“But you spent years building your empire in Newport. You brought the Belluccis back to glory,” Adagio says.
“I did,” I agree, nodding. “And I’ll do it again.”
A moment passes where neither Adagio or Maurizio utter a word. Maurizio shifts in his chair the leather creaking under his weight, but his face is set in concentration. He’s almost as hungry as I am, the brute more than ready for some revenge after what we’ve been through.
Adagio plays it differently, still relaxed in his posture as he stares at me with curiosity more than anything.
But both men are loyal and will be by my side no matter what.
They know what our fate could be. They know who we’ll be going up against.
And more importantly, they know what I’ll have to become.
The sound of light and melodic laughter trickles in from the hall.
No less than a second later, Portia and her sister appear in the arched walkway.
Both of them are dressed in loose sundresses that almost reach the ground and bare feet, natural curls frizzy from the humid sea air but just as beautiful.
Portia’s smile falters when she sees our faces, her eyes narrowing as the weight in the air hits her like a sudden drop in pressure before a storm.
Jayla mutters something and then slips away, heading for Adagio’s chair. He readily accepts her, sitting up so she can perch herself in his lap.
I meet Portia’s gaze with complete candor, not bothering to disguise the truth from her like I would’ve in the past. The man who believed he could protect her if he kept secrets doesn’t exist anymore.
I set the glass of limoncello down on the side table, deciding now’s the time to discuss what’s been on my mind and where we’ll truly be going from here.
Portia is the woman I love, and she deserves to hear every word.
“I worked for him,” I say. “For years, I did exactly what Vito asked. I became the man he wanted. I took the orders. I did the job. I wore the mask. Il Diavolo was never just a title—it was a means of control. He knew what he was doing fixing me in his image. He groomed me that way, plucking me right off the streets. But maybe it was all by design.”
Portia crosses the room, coming within a few feet of me. “Then why did you do it?”
“Because I thought I had to. I thought survival meant becoming the monster before someone else made me their prey. But I see it now. I was never building an empire. I was reinforcing his. Everything I touched still belonged to Vito. Il Diavolo. I was never free.”
Her gaze darkens, wary but open.
She’s not the only one watching me—the other three have fallen silent waiting for me to continue.
“I’m done playing into his hand. I’m done building the Bellucci empire for them.” My jaw tightens, adrenaline coursing through me just at the thought. “From this moment on… I fight.”
“We can start over, Rafael,” Portia says, a pleading note to her voice. “We already have, in a way. You said it yourself—we’re free now. Why throw that away for vengeance?”
Her words aren’t naive. She knows what’s at stake. But she’s still hoping there’s another path, one that doesn’t lead us back into violence and carnage.
Would she say the same if she knew the full story?
Though we’re not alone, we might as well be as our gazes lock on each other and everybody else in the room becomes irrelevant. They’re nothing more than spectators watching the scene unfold.
I rise from my chair and go to Portia, resting a hand on her waist while the other cups her face.
“He didn’t just take from me, dolcezza,” I tell her. “He took from you too.”
Portia frowns, lips parting but no sound coming out.
“Don Vito—or Il Diavolo as he was once called—took your parents like he took mine. I know… because I was there.”
TO BE CONTINUED…