CHAPTER TWENTY
RAFAELLE
The smell of the cigarettes I smoked earlier clings to me as I lower myself onto the floor in my niece’s playroom. Lucia’s a couple of feet away, too enthralled with her dolls to notice me, which is fine with me.
I didn’t come in here to play with her. I came in here to feel something.
My nieces and nephews are the perfect way to do that.
I can feel Lindsay disapproval stare boring a hole into the middle of my head.
She stands at the doorway, watching me as I mope in her daughter’s playroom, it’s a little pathetic.
I don’t even like cigarettes. But when I’m not beating someone up or committing murder, they work perfectly at making me feel less like shit.
After so many years of feeling emotionally numb, I’d rather have my heart cut out than be in this position.
Eventually my sister in law sighs. She moves to sit beside me on the floor, leaning her head against the wall. She doesn’t speak for several long seconds until I arch an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not sure how to comfort you, Rafaelle,” she states.
I scowl, “Don’t bother. I don’t need comfort.”
“How are you feeling?”
The question has my jaw clenching. What I should be feeling is anger and rage.
I should want nothing more than to burn the Navarro house to the ground and possibly everyone in it.
Instead, the pain in my chest continues radiating through my every pore.
Reminding me of the exact moment Liliana decided to leave me.
Lindsay’s blue eyes are kind as they stare at me. I don’t reply so she continues regardless.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Feeling so much for one person,” she murmurs.
“It feels like shit,” I agree. “But I’m sure it’ll wear off eventually.”
“That’s not how emotions work, Rafaelle. You have to deal with them and understand them before you can move past it.”
“I’m dealing with it,” I assure her. “I spent two hours in the ring yesterday and came out with three cracked ribs. I also beat Kennedys’ face into a pulp. It was fun.”
She frowns, “That’s not what I meant.”
I shrug.
Lindsay studies me for a moment. She is acting entirely too comfortable for my liking. I miss the days when she was scared of me.
"You know what your problem is?"
"I have several."
She snorts.
"You're acting like she woke up one day and decided to hurt you for fun."
I look away. Because that's exactly what it feels like. A fucking joke and I’m the butt of it.
"It doesn't matter why she did it."
"It absolutely matters."
I scoff.
"Please. Enlighten me, cognata. "
Lindsay rolls her eyes. "She cared about you."
I laugh. A harsh, ugly sound.
“You didn’t even know her.”
“Yes, but Matteo did and you know he’s almost never wrong about anything. He told me how she looked at you and you told me the things she did for you.”
“That was a mistake and I told you to forget that happened,” I murmur, thinking back to the night I was buzzed enough to spill my secrets to my sister in law.
She's looking at me like I'm a particularly stubborn child. Which, admittedly, isn't entirely inaccurate.
"You told me she sang you to sleep and helped you with your nightmares. You spent so much time together. Time that you enjoyed. Do you really think it was all fake?”
The ache in my chest sharpens.
"Maybe she changed her mind."
Lindsay's expression turns dry.
"She must have been a pretty great actress to make Rafaelle Vitale fall for her while faking all her emotions."
I scowl.
"Sometimes I forget you’re a damn lawyer."
She nudges my shoulder.
"What if you're missing something?"
"I'm not."
"Really?"
Her eyebrow rises, "Because from where I'm sitting, one of two things happened."
I really dislike this conversation.
"Either she never cared about you."
My stomach twists.
"Or she had a reason. A really good one. You said it yourself. It’s Ignacio Navarro we’re dealing with. He’s always playing games and he could have very well done something to make her pick his side.”
The words settle heavily between us.
I look away first.
Because that's the possibility I can't stop thinking about. The one that keeps me awake at night. The possibility that Liliana didn’t choose it. That my siren didn’t leave me on her own accord.
Before I can formulate a suitable response, the playroom door opens.
Matteo steps inside.
One look at my face and his expression immediately becomes concerned.
It’s annoying. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I can mope spectacularly well in my own house. But she has managed to permeate every inch of it. Her smell lingers in my bedroom, taunting me, making me feel even worse.
"You’ve got that face you make when you want to deliver bad news,” I drawl.
My brother glances between me and Lindsay. Then sighs.
"We received an invitation."
I frown. "To what?"
“A gala at the Navarro estate. To welcome Liliana to the family."
Silence.
The room suddenly feels smaller. The fact that Navarro’s planned a party isn’t surprising.
The old man loves to show off and brag about his wealth, the things he’s been able to acquire.
I’ve never understood that shit. We work in the criminal underworld.
And sure we’re mostly untouchable in this city but that hasn’t stopped my family from being as private as we can be.
Lindsay sits up straighter, “Why would he invite us to that?”
“Our families have a temporary truce. I guess this is his way of honoring it.”
Matteo’s gaze remains fixed on me. Watching, waiting for my reaction, an outburst. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
All three of my brothers have been doing that all week. They keep expecting me to fly off the handle and do something drastic. It’s fun seeing them squirm. I don’t have the energy though.
Unsurprisingly, Matteo says, "I don't think you should go, Rafaelle.”
I offer him a slight smirk, "I'm going."
"No."
I get to my feet. The movement startles Lucia who glances up from her dolls before quickly deciding we aren't worth her attention.
Smart child.
"I'm definitely going. And I sure as fuck don’t need your permission, Matteo.”
My brother folds his arms.
"We all know how Ignacio operates. He invited us on purpose because he’s gunning for drama or for someone to slip up, mostly you and perhaps we’ll end the truce on our side. Knowing what was sacrificed, it might be better for you to stay away.”
He might as well be white noise. I’m barely listening to him. My mind is whirring as I think about what I’m going to do.
I share a look with Lindsay that confirms it. She said I needed answers and I’m going to get it.
A gala, and the guest of honor is exactly the person I need to see. Something resembling anticipation flickers to life inside me.
Slowly, I pull my phone from my pocket.
“What are you doing?” Matteo questions.
“It’s a gala. I should probably take my own date, don’t you think?”
One contact catches my eye and I’m immediately opening my messages. Vicky.
Me: Clear your schedule this weekend. You’re going somewhere with me.
A few seconds later, my phone vibrates.
Vicky: I haven’t heard from you in weeks and you’re asking me out on a date?
Me: I never said anything about a date. Are you in or are you out?
Three dots appear.
Vicky: I'll clear my schedule.
Satisfaction rolls through me and I place my phone back in my pocket.
Lindsay looks immensely worried, “This is a terrible idea.”
She’s right. It’s petty and childish and it probably won’t make me feel any better.
But one thought refuses to leave me alone. Liliana isn't the only one allowed to stab me in the heart.
Two can play that game, little siren.
* * *
As soon as I walk into the gala with Vicky’s arm looped around me, I know I’ve made a mistake.
The Navarro ballroom is as extravagant as expected.
The room is packed. With politicians, businessmen, criminals pretending not to be criminals.
Everyone is dressed fancy in designer suits and dresses that could probably feed a small country.
I don't notice any of it.
I only notice her.
As soon as I walk into the room, my eyes are drawn to her. Like there’s a magnetic force pushing us together.
A breath punches out of me.
Fuck.
She looks fucking amazing. Beautiful. A dark emerald dress clings to her curves before flowing toward the floor. Her hair spills over one shoulder in dark waves. A delicate necklace rests against golden skin.
She looks every bit the daughter of a cartel king. Every bit the princess of this estate. And yet somehow she still looks like the woman who loves to stuff her face with French fries and has the voice of an angel.
She still looks like mine.
The contradiction hits me harder than it should.
Our eyes meet from across the room. I can tell she’s shocked to see me. But she covers up that reaction soon enough.
"Damn,” Vicky whistles. “These people know how to party.”
“Careful, Victoria. We’re in the den of snakes.”
I've known Vicky for a long time. People tend to assume a physical relationship automatically means something more. With Vicky, it never has.
Neither of us have ever wanted that. We’ve had a few wild nights together but it’s never been anything more. She hits me up occasionally when she’s bored and looking for a night of fun. Sometimes I reply but usually I ignore her and she’s never held it against me.
Vicky likes excitement. I like uncomplicated arrangements. It worked. At least until Liliana barreled into my life.
It still works now though. Which is why she's standing beside me tonight looking entirely too pleased with herself.
Dark red hair is in a tight ponytail on her head. Her black gown leaves little to the imagination. Confidence radiates from her as naturally as breathing. I’ve always appreciated the way she doesn’t expect anything from me. She’s dependable. I might even go as far as to call her a friend.
Unfortunately, tonight she's enjoying herself far too much.
“She definitely doesn’t look like a snake,” she says, eyes fixed at the same spot as mine, watching Liliana.