Chapter 25
RAFAELLE
Fallbrook Estate, Upstate New York – Late Afternoon
The great oaks lining Fallbrook’s long drive cast knotted shadows across the gravel as I pull my Furia supercar to a halt in front of the mansion.
I could’ve used the family chopper but I wanted the long drive from Teterboro to get my thoughts in order. And yes, buy myself time because I’m a pussy who’s terrified of his nonno.
Inside, a fire crackles in the foyer hearth even in mid-June; polished marble floors and the mahogany walls gleam like a cathedral to Salvatore power.
I eye the hallway leading to the kitchen, wondering if I have time to perform my usual ritual. Visiting the sacred place I shared with Mama in her favourite place in Fallbrook. Her kitchen.
My uncle Bagio, Orazio’s senior capo, striding down the hallway with his beady eyes fixed on me, kills that notion.
‘He’s been waiting for an hour. You best not keep him waiting any longer,’ he says, not without a hint of glee in his tone.
Fucker. Neither my father nor his two brothers rose as high in the mafioso hierarchy as they would’ve liked. These days Pops is mired so deep in his grief very little touches him, but my uncles never fail to exhibit their disgruntlement. Or their petty barbs that barely break skin.
Nevertheless, I turn away from my desired destination, head for the opposite direction.
At the door to Orazio’s study, I steel myself.
Enter.
He’s pacing. No surprises there.
His frame is still imposing at eighty-one, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back.
Cesare stands a few paces off, arms folded, wearing that trademark half-smirk that means he’s both curious and amused. I swallow and enter.
My brother’s eyes drill into mine, digging out news like the impatient fucker he is. The only reason he hasn’t ridden my ass like a fucking racehorse is because he has his hands full with Maddie.
‘Rafa!’ Orazio’s voice rolls like thunder across the study. He spins, face red, eyes blazing. ‘What the fuck have you been doing?’
I twirl my remote car key on my finger, forcing calm. ‘The usual. Extending our reach, Nonnu. You saw the ledgers—’
He cuts me off with a scowl. ‘Ledgers don’t mean shit if the bastard’s still breathing!
His head on my platter! That’s what you promised me.
That’s why you’ve plastered yourself to that unstable Mancinelli one, isn’t it?
And you what?’ He throws his arms up and wide.
‘Let him slip through your fingers? I raised you to be an enforcer, not a pissing contest loser!’ He paces closer, every syllable jagged.
I feel Cesare’s eyes on me, studying, waiting for the flash of anger I can no longer hide. I straighten my spine, let Orazio’s tirade wash over me. ‘Nonnu, we have him exactly where we want him—’
‘Bullshit!’ His fist thumps the antique desk.
‘You better not be going the way of your brother with those Mancinelli women.’ He jerks his head towards Cesare, who arches a dark brow.
‘You’re following Cesare’s footsteps, falling in love, losing yourself, and soon I’ll be reading about Salvatore diaspora in the fucking papers. ’
Cesare chuckles, then steps forward, hands in pockets. ‘Easy, Don. You know Rafa’s not made for retirement. He just needs a little more time to settle the score.’ His smirk flickers as he eyes me up and down. ‘Besides, I’ve seen him more whipped than a spaniel.’ He laughs, a soft, mocking rumble.
The words hit like ice. I flare with anger, thumb brushing the holster at my side. ‘Try me, Cesare. One more word like that and I’ll—’
Cesare’s smile widens at my tension. ‘Planning to shoot your big brother over a joke?’ He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘And here I thought you were getting soft.’
Orazio strides between us, voice booming.
‘That’s enough! Both of you! This estate has seen more blood than any fuckin’ cathedral.
No one dies here, not on my watch.’ He waves a hand with theatrical exasperation.
‘I don’t care if you two want to punch each other bloody.
Keep it out of my sight and out of my business.
And Rafa, if you come home empty-handed again, you’ll be sleeping in the sty with the pigs. Is that understood?’
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him what went down in Palermo. But explaining that I let El Topo live without verifying the location and size of the cage he’s rotting in is not in my best interests.
I’m expecting my next Aegis assignment any second now. But I might make time to pay Agent DeLuca a visit. Impress some manners into the fucker for ignoring Sofiya’s attempts at contact.
‘I asked you a question, nupito,’ Orazio snaps.
I grit my teeth and nod. ‘Sì, Nonno.’
Cesare claps me on the shoulder. ‘Maddie wants you to come to dinner p.m. Tuesday, without fail. That means, I want you there. Without fucking fail. Capisci?’
The old man dismisses Cesare’s remark with a grunt and storms out, the heels of his Ferragamos clicking across the floor.
Cesare watches him go, then pivots back to me. ‘Hell of a family,’ he mutters. ‘But you know how he is.’ He offers me an arm and steers me towards the door. ‘Come on – go find your Salvatore sunbeam. You look like you need it. And I won’t even ask whatever else it is I know you’re keeping from us.’
I exhale, muscles relaxing the fraction a heartbeat. ‘Thanks, fratuzzo.’
He smirks, pressing an arm across my shoulders.
I release him and head down to the kitchen. The June air is cool, scented with lilac and rain to come.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sofiya:
Need you. Immediately. 41.0262°N, 73.6282°W.
I glance at the GPS coordinates. It’s the Mancinelli Connecticut compound. My heart skitters with something close to relief.
I walk around the kitchen once, touching her copper pots, her apron, the bottles of home-made chilli oil that still sit in the pantry, untouched all these years later.
‘Ciao, Mama.’
I wait. Breath held. Praying my faltering in Palermo won’t cost me this too. After an age, the soft voice of my favourite ghost echoes in my ear.
Ciao, bello.
Tears prickle my eyes as I stride back out, slide behind the wheel, gut instincts buzzing but drowned by a deeper pull.
Sofiya.
Sofiya.
Damn it, I need her too.
So fucking bad.
Connecticut – Mancinelli Compound Gate, 21:30
The compound is a fortress, heavily reinforced through sheer panic by Matteo Mancinelli, Sofiya’s father, last year after getting their asses handed to them when they attacked Fallbrook.
Six-foot gates of black iron, cameras perched like vultures along each corner. Security lights sweep lazily over manicured hedges and vintage sports cars.
I kill the engine two blocks away, slip into black tactical pants and a slim hoodie. My boots are soft-soled – ‘ghost mode’, I call it.
I vault the perimeter wall, land in a crouch on the other side, and slither along the building’s shadow. The Mancinellis don’t use attack dogs like us, on account of grandfather and father both being allergic to canine hair.
Weak-ass pussies.
The windows are dark, except for one upstairs, a faint glow behind sheer curtains.
My pulse hammers as I slip to the second-floor balcony. I hook my leg over the railing, swing myself onto Sofiya’s balcony, and carefully unbolt the window.
The drapes are light enough to slip through. I pause inside her room. Moonlight pools on crisp sheets. There’s a small writing desk, a battered leather duffel tossed at the foot of the bed’s chair.
I risk a glance at her sleeping form curled under blankets, one arm clutched to her side. Even in sleep, sorrow and strength play across her brow.
I swallow and step forward. ‘Tigra.’ The name resonates deep and far too profound inside me. Almost as profound as my other favourite, sacred term. Mama.
Cristu. What… seriously, what the fuck is happening right now?
She stirs, lashes fluttering. ‘Rafa?’ She sits, hair tangling around her face. ‘You came.’
I cross to the bed, perching on the edge. ‘You texted. I couldn’t not.’ An admission that scrapes something raw and urgent inside me.
She slides the sheet lower and pats the mattress. I lie beside her, heart pounding at her warmth.
‘Why did you send coordinates? You think I don’t know where you are?’ Every minute of every fucking day?
She folds her arms around her knees. ‘I wanted you to get here fast.’ Her eyes search mine, and she swallows. ‘I need you.’ It’s a hushed confession, impacting harder for its softness.
‘I’m here, baby,’ I murmur, brushing a thumb along her cheek. Her skin is still damp from a recent shower, cool in my palm.
She goes from timid to bold in an instant, launching herself at me, fingers tangling in my hair. I meet her with the power and glory she deserves, not a hint of tentativeness about it.
She parts her lips and her thighs, and just like that, we’re ignited, hungry and trembling.
Her robe falls at my knees as my hands move over the curve of her waist and the slick line of her thigh. At her throat, I nibble a harsh line, then whisper, ‘I’ve missed you.’
Her eyes blaze. ‘I’ve missed you more.’
‘How’s the shoulder, baby?’
She shakes her head impatiently. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. Well, I’m not. I want you. Inside me. Please.’
Damn. A man could get addicted to that.
Aren’t you already?
I ignore the voice. Press her back against the headboard, straddling her hips. Her hands tangle in my shirt as I unhook my belt, metal snapping in the stillness. She bites her lower lip, watching as I lower my pants to the floor.
Her voice is soft but fierce. ‘I want you… rough.’
A lash of desire turns to cold gratitude. ‘My pleasure.’ I lift her so her legs wrap around my waist. I lean in, mouth brushing over her collarbones, trailing down her ribs to the waistband of her silk panties. My fingers rip through fabric. She shivers, skin sensitised by the moonlit room.
She grips my shoulders as I tug my cock free, slick with need. Beneath her, the mattress creaks. I ease into her, slow and careful, so she can find me. Her gasp is sharp, taste of want.
I press my mouth to hers, tongue seeking, as I drive into her. Harder, deeper. The headboard rattles against the wall behind us. Our breathing merges, staccato and raw.
She wraps her arms around my neck. ‘Rafa—’
I cut her off with a fierce kiss, one hand at her throat pressing her head back. My other hand grips her hip, slamming into her until her nails dig into my chest. ‘Is this what you want? What you’ve needed?’
‘Yes! Fuck, yes,’ she moans above me, breath hot.
I pull back just enough to see her eyes, wild and eager. I curse under my breath and bury my face in her throat. My strokes become a relentless rhythm. Thrust, pull back, thrust again, owning her, claiming her in every pulse. Driving her to the edge only to pull back.
Stepping away to her snarling protests, I bend her over the edge of her bed like I own the place. Like I’ve owned this moment since the first time her eyes narrowed at me across that rooftop, daring me to underestimate her.
She braces herself on the mattress, knees sinking into the comforter, spine bowed in submission she won’t admit to. Yet.
And then I slam inside.
One long, slow thrust that buries me to the hilt. Her whole body shudders beneath my grip. Fuck. She’s a goddamn miracle I have no business taking, but I do anyway.
‘This what you needed, picciridda?’ I rasp, my fingers digging into her hips. ‘You don’t want sweet or slow, do you? You want this, right here. Taking what you’ll never give anyone else.’
She moans, and it’s not pain. It’s something purer. Hungrier. The kind of raw sound that peels open every violent instinct I’ve spent years perfecting and turns them into something I don’t know how to name.
I thrust harder, deeper. Dammit, I want to leave a mark. I want it burned into her skin and her memory. Forever.
‘Come for me,’ I rasp, voice thick. ‘Let me hear it.’
And when I slide my hand between her thighs, stroke her just right, she closes her eyes, moaning as her body tenses. Then she falls apart with a cry that hits me in the chest harder than any bullet ever has.
Tremors ripple through her, and she shudders around me, catching her release. I follow, muscles clenching as I spill inside her, both of us riding out the last crest of our need.
We collapse on the bed together with the faint hum of distant crickets lulling us. I brush my lips along her jaw. ‘God, tigra… every time I think I know you, you surprise me.’
She presses her face to my shoulder. ‘We’re both surprises now.’
I hold her, feeling her pulse slow beneath my cheek. As much as I relish some carnage, for now the Mancinelli compound mustn’t know I was here, so I’ll slip out before dawn.
But right now, in the hush of her bed, I know something irrevocable has started.
As her breathing evens out, I step gingerly off the bed. She opens one eye and watches as I pull on my pants.
I pause, contemplate the very foolish thing dancing on the edge of my tongue. ‘Got something on the horizon soon… You wanna come with?’
Her eyes widen. Then, ‘Yes, please,’ she breathes.
You’re neck-deep in it now, fucker. I ignore the voice mocking me. Nod. ‘Good. We leave after dinner with Cesare and Maddie? Yeah?’ I murmur, voice thick with longing.
‘Yes,’ she whispers.
I press a last kiss to her temple, gentle, as if she might vanish at the slightest violence, despite just reaming her like her pussy held the holy fucking grail. ‘Don’t forget to leave a review.’ I wink. ‘Full throated.’
The smallest giggle escapes. My first earned laugh from my enemy’s granddaughter. ‘For the ninja moves or the booty call?’
‘For both. I expect ten stars and at least five paragraphs.’
She’s giggling again when I slip through the window, heart hollow with hope and fear.
Outside, the night holds its breath.
I climb down the ivy-coated wall and vanish into the shadows. The world is turning again, and I have a family back in Fallbrook demanding results.
But for these hours, I’ve revelled in a shiny new discovery.
Peace within the arms of a woman who challenges me, disarms me, and still begs me to come back for more.