Chapter 3
RAPH
From the time I was a little boy, my father told me I wasn’t good enough. He didn’t sugarcoat it. He told me exactly what was on his mind. He’d remind me of all the ways my middle brother, Michael, was better than me.
It’s not my brother’s fault. I love my brothers. Both of them. It’s my father I can’t stand.
I was ten when he knocked me out for not being able to beat the shit out of a kid who was picking on me in school. When my mom tried to intervene, he hurt her too. Badly. But there was nothing I could do to protect her.
In our circle, we don’t call the cops. That gets you killed.
So I did what I thought could win my father’s approval: I became stronger.
Tougher. I worked twice as hard, grew thicker skin, and was the best enforcer in the Messina crime family.
I did everything my father wanted, hoping that one day he’d love me.
That he’d let me take over for him as the head of the family.
Because that would mean he finally saw me as someone worthy of our name.
But that day never came. When I was twenty-five, he told me he’d never let me run the family. That I had not proven myself. That I never will.
That was the day I realized my father truly hated me. And it was also the day I pretended not to care.
I still did what I had to do. There’s no leaving this life. But I no longer saw myself as a member of the family. Because without my father’s approval, I had nothing.
When he announced his seat would eventually go to Michael, I told my brother I was happy for him, that I never wanted the burden of that job. But it was a lie. Eventually, I convinced even myself.
I promised myself that one day, I’d show my father exactly what kind of man I am. That I’d build my own roots. I’d have my own family. A wife I cherished. A child I’d tear out my heart for. Something he never did for me.
When I met Bianca at one of the restaurants our family owns, I didn’t push her away, even though she wasn’t my type.
I’d met other women, but none of them did shit for me either.
But I thought maybe I needed to give relationships more time to feel something.
And as soon as I saw how my father was looking at her, I knew he wanted her for himself.
So I took her instead, even when I shouldn’t have. I’m not proud of it.
He had a thing for younger women, and he wasn’t shy about flaunting his affairs with them.
My mother just put up with it. But as a teenager, I remember her crying every night he didn’t come home.
I fucking wanted to kill him. I swore that would never be me.
I’d love my wife. I’d never stray. I’d fight for my marriage.
A marriage is sacred, and I would honor my vows.
There was nothing wrong with Bianca. She was pretty—shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes.
But she just didn’t do it for me. And worse, she was way too young for me.
But she didn’t care. She didn’t make her desire for me a secret.
She practically jumped all over me the night we met, and I’m ashamed to admit I enjoyed the anger on my father’s face more than I enjoyed her company.
Once she gave me her number, we began to date. I appreciated our time together for what it was. Liked having someone in my life most of all. So I settled. But that was wrong. I see things more clearly now than I ever did then.
Months turned to years, and I realized that I still never felt that overwhelming sense of passion I thought I’d feel by now.
I kept waiting for it to happen, wanting it.
But it just wasn’t there. So after three years, I owed it to her to find a man who’d love her the way she deserved.
We all deserve that. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for it.
Maybe I wasn’t built to feel love and passion and chemistry. Maybe I was fucked up.
But just when I thought I was dead inside, she came along and changed all that.
What I felt for her…that was something I’d never felt before.
And I hated myself for it. Hated myself every second of every day from the moment her full, soft lips landed on mine.
She uprooted everything I thought I knew about myself and lit my whole world on fire.
To this day, it still burns for her. It always will.
But I didn’t let her know that. I couldn’t. She was barely eighteen, a child with a crush, while I was a man who should have known better. Someone not only too old for her, but far too dangerous.
The forgotten sister went on to fall for the forgotten boy. We were alike that way. But it was our differences that made us an impossibility.
I never intended to feel a goddamn thing when she kissed me.
Not for a second. I’d never even looked at her that way before.
Not Nicolette. I wasn’t supposed to be filled with inappropriate thoughts when she was around.
I wasn’t supposed to imagine how it’d feel to kiss her—really kiss her.
But I did. I let it all play out in my head like the bastard I am.
I didn’t want to be like my father, interested in women too young for me, but I couldn’t deny it once she did what she did. I couldn’t deny that, deep down, we were two souls who had forged a bond way before I even realized it.
But none of that mattered. Not for me. She was untouchable.
Forbidden. I would watch out for her for the rest of her life.
I swore to myself I would. I’d kill anyone who hurt her.
But I’d never have her. I’d never touch her.
It wouldn’t be right. Even when it’s all I’ve managed to think about for years now.
I never did get the chance to end things with Bianca. She threw a curveball that prevented that. So I remained in that family until the day she was murdered.
I avoided Nicolette from the moment she kissed me, hoping that if I did, I’d forget how badly my hands itched to touch her, to run my fingers through her long hair.
But I never forgot a thing. The need only became stronger.
I’d sometimes wonder how different things would have been had I met her first, maybe in a different life. One where she was older, or maybe I was younger.
But that’s not the way it works. Nicolette was never meant to be mine. Even thinking about her makes me want to stake my own heart.
I couldn’t divorce Bianca, either. We don’t do divorce. And the thought of hearing my father gloat about my failures…it killed me. So I stayed and made my marriage work. It was the right thing to do. I’d made my choices and I had to live with them. She was my wife, and she was owed that respect.
When she was killed, I went to war to avenge her. For her family and for her. They deserved that.
I suspected the Irish killed her because of the casino we wouldn’t let them open, so I did what needed to be done. I gathered an army and fought the Quinn family on my own. No one disrespects me and lives to tell about it.
My family refused to sanction the war, so I had no choice but to take things into my own hands. To this day, Patrick Quinn, the head of the Mob, denies it was them, and he wants my head for causing the death of his nephew.
Patrick gave me a few months to grieve before coming after me, but then he came to collect.
And instead of fighting him, Michael forced me to hide.
I wasn’t a coward. I wanted to take them all on.
But Michael can be convincing. I knew it’d be a death sentence.
The Irish have a lot of people on their side, and I didn’t want to die.
Who would protect her if I was gone? I wanted to live. I wanted to see her again, to tell her…
Tell her what? That she’s all I’ve managed to think about? That she consumes me? What good would that do if I can’t have her?
But I need my life back. I need Michael to figure this out before I walk up to Patrick myself. Michael promised he could get me out of this. But it’s been months since the Irish have been hunting me down, and I’m still here waiting.
They don’t know about this place. I had bought it years ago for its location. It’s large and off the grid, surrounded by a forest. It’s peaceful too. So I hid here, knowing no one would find me.
The property was purchased by a shell corporation, and our lawyer, Hudson Mackay, ensured it was untraceable. He was good like that. His hands are as dirty as ours, but he keeps a squeaky-clean appearance. No one would suspect that he works for us, not even his own wife.
I know Michael is doing his best to protect me. He’s always been on my side, even when I was angry with him for not fighting alongside me. But in the end, when my rage faded, I understood why he did it. Sophia was his entire world, and he couldn’t risk her life or leave her behind.
Wives are off-limits among our circles. So are children. But some don’t play by the rules.
No one but my immediate family knows that I’m living in this house, surrounded by countless foot soldiers and high-tech cams. But if Michael doesn’t figure something out soon, I will surrender. I’m done hiding. I don’t want anyone dying for my actions. I can pay for them like a man.
When Bianca was killed—when I found her bleeding body—I broke. It was my fault she died. Sure, I may have not loved her the way a husband should love his wife, but she was still my wife. It tore me up that she’d never get to live her life and it was all because of me.
I tried talking to Nicolette, needing her damn bad, but she left as soon as Bianca died. When I called, she never answered. I understood why. I hurt her for years by keeping my distance. But I had to.
She may have wanted to stay away, but I still missed her, still picked up the phone a million times just to hear her voice. Wishing she’d answer just once.
A stabbing pain hits me in the chest. I want to see her again. To hold her in my arms.
I miss you, tesoro mio, wherever you are. I hope you’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.