48. The L Word
CHAPTER 48
THE L WORD
I sabella
Grief constricts my ribcage, the pain of loss so potent it coats my tongue and cramps my belly as I walk across the verdant lawn of the cemetery. I didn’t even know Carlo well and still, his death weighs on me for more than just guilt. In the world I’ve grown up in, loss of life is a constant and one can so easily become immune to it. I can’t even count how many guards we’ve lost over the years, not to mention Frankie, who’s death I still can’t quite process because it’s easier to live in denial.
Carlo was young, not even twenty-eight with a whole life ahead of him. He had parents who loved him, a sister who cherished him, cousins, grandparents, a whole slew of people whose lives were just irreparably changed. In one fraction of a second.
Dio , how is it fair?
I glance over at Raf who walks beside me, a grim expression wearing into his handsome face as we cross the now empty graveyard. He hasn’t spoken more than a few terse words since his confession in the car. His sadness weighs on me, too. Dozens of colorful flowers mark the gravestones, too bright for the somber occasion. It was a lovely ceremony, filled with inspirational speeches and reassuring words, but in the end, Carlo was still dead.
Just like Raf’s first love.
People would continue to die, and the world would keep churning, but merda , it’s so depressing. Beneath the guilt, there’s the knowledge that life is fleeting, and we should take advantage of every moment. Before it’s too late.
“Raf, I—” I blurt as he spins toward me and says, “Isabella?—”
“Sorry, go ahead.” He stops in the middle of the empty cemetery, and it occurs to me this is probably the most morbid place in the world to say the three words that have been racing across the tip of my tongue.
So instead, I shake my head and mutter a lame, “No, you go first.”
Raf takes my hand and leads me toward the shade of a classic stone pine, its distinctive umbrella-shaped canopy the perfect spot to escape the mid-day sun. His dark eyes chase to mine, and a tide of unfettered emotion sweeps through that brooding gaze. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but we have to find you a new bodyguard.”
I open my mouth to tell him just what I think about that, but he presses his finger to my lips.
“No arguing.” He heaves out a pained breath, and I still my tongue to at least hear him out. His hands clamp around my shoulders, intense eyes dipping to trap mine in that haunted gaze. “Do you want to be with me? For real, principessa ? Not this sneaking around, but really be mine?”
The rough edge to his tone has my insides quaking and my heart slingshotting itself against my ribs. I don’t trust myself to speak so I simply nod instead.
“As if continuing this thing between us as your bodyguard isn’t risky enough, now we have the problem of the shooter to contend with.” He sucks in a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve had no solid leads in a week, other than the name of the Albanian mercenary who hired him, and that guy has conveniently disappeared. I have your father’s men ransacking the city for him, but it’s possible he’s left the city or worse, the country. Until we know for certain who is after me, I cannot risk your life by remaining beside you.”
“So you’re just going to abandon me?”
“No, of course not.” His fingers tighten around my shoulders as he draws me closer. “But don’t you see that I’m putting you directly in harm’s way by being with you?”
“I’m always in harm’s way, you coglione . I have been since the day I was born.”
He bites his lip, a flicker of anger darkening his countenance as he holds onto me as if his life depends on it. “I won’t be responsible for putting your life at risk, Isabella. Can’t you understand that?” His grip is punishing as he reels me in so I’m flush against him. “I cannot bear it. I will not lose the first woman I’ve loved in a decade—” His jaw slams shut, the crack reverberating through the sudden silence.
“Love?” I choke out.
But the word is drowned out by the squeal of tires racing across cement. Before the first shot detonates, Raf has me behind the tree, pinned between its rough bark and his unyielding torso.
He’s yelling through the com in his ear, one arm around me and his free hand wrapped around the butt of the gun that appeared out of nowhere. Bullets pierce the air, slicing through the solemn silence of the cemetery with deadly intent. Tombstones shatter around us, sending fragments of marble and stone spraying the air.
Raf's eyes fiercely scan the perimeter, his body a shield against the chaos erupting around us. “Stay down,” he commands as he forces me to the ground, his voice a harsh whisper against the backdrop of gunfire. I nod, my own heart hammering in my chest as I clutch at his jacket, the scent of gunpowder mingling with the earthy dampness of the ground.
In the distance, I can see shadows moving, figures darting between the headstones, advancing towards us. Merda , where is Sal? Raf waits, his breathing controlled, his focus absolute. As one of the attackers comes into clear view, he squeezes the trigger, his arm steady despite the adrenaline that must be coursing through him.
The sound of the return fire is deafening, but Raf is unflinching as the body drops to the ground. “I've got you,” he assures me, though the shrill edge to his tone has every hair on my body standing on end. “Where the fuck are you, Sal?” he growls through the com as another wave of men in black suits surge across the graveyard.
Over his shoulder, I catch sight of the navy Alfa tearing toward us. Sal slams on the breaks, inches from where we’re crouched behind the tree. A door swings open and Aldo jumps out, spraying a line of bullets across the sea of headstones.
“Go, go, now!” Raf curls his arm around my shoulders, blanketing my body with his powerful one as we race toward the car. Both Aldo and Sal provide a barrage of bullets as cover as we sprint the few yards between us and dive into the back seat.
The door slams behind us, and Aldo darts around the car before jumping into the front. I heave in a breath with Raf’s massive body still wrapped around me, a shield of rigid muscle. The wail of sirens pierces the air, growing louder now amidst the backdrop of slowing shots. As our driver peels out of the parking lot, my frantic pulse begins to slow.
Only once we’re clear of the cemetery does Raf turn his attention to me, his expression softening just a touch. “Are you okay?” he rumbles, his concern palpable.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good.” Finally releasing me, he slides to the end of the backseat and glares at our driver through the rearview mirror. “Where the fuck were you, Sal?”
“ Scusi . I just went across the street with Aldo for a caffè . We were only gone for a second.”
“A second when all hell broke loose.” He glares between the two men, the rage entrenched across his jaw terrifying. He turns that murderous gaze on Aldo and the man actually flinches. I’ve never seen him do that except with Papà , and he’s been under my family’s employ for decades. “You should know better. What would Signor Valentino do if he were here?”
“We’d be fucking dead before nightfall,” Aldo mutters.
“No,” I hiss and grab Raf’s arm, urging him back. “Don’t you dare tell Papà . I won’t be responsible for any more deaths today.”
His jaw ticks for a long minute before the fury simmers. He turns back to his men, the feral gaze in his expression enough to make me pee my pants. “You only get one warning, and that’s more than I would have given you. Isabella is right. There’s been enough death for one day. But trust me, there will be no second chances.”
Both men nod, and a heavy silence blankets the car for the rest of the ride home.
Raffaele is moody and distant for the next two days, shadowing me around the hospital and the apartment without speaking. He hasn’t said the L word again, and a part of me is sure I imagined it.
I’ve apparently grown feathers and a beak because I’m too much of a chicken to bring it up. Mostly it’s because I’m scared he’ll threaten to get me another bodyguard again. But also because I’m terrified to admit the truth, that I love him too.
I’m certain once I breathe the words to life he’ll insist on leaving me for my own good. Which is just ridiculous. No one is as good as Raffaele Ferrara, and I want him as my bodyguard and no other.
Clearly, I’m insane.
I go through the motions at the hospital on autopilot, following up with my patients, filling out endless charts, smiling and nodding at concerned family members, but it all feels so futile. I will never get my doctorate, and even if I do by some series of lucky events, I’ll never get to practice medicine.
I would be putting all my patients at risk, simply because of who I am.
The mafia princess.
Maybe it’s time to face the truth instead of deluding myself and dreaming of a future I can never have.