Chapter 56 RAFFAEL
The morning after Marcello's wedding…
I’m not sure what I expect when I knock. Tension, maybe. Accusation. That familiar brand of brotherly hostility Marcello wears like a second skin whenever I’m near Sophia.
What I don’t expect… is her.
The door swings open, and Violet stands there, soft curls tied back, still radiant even without the wedding dress. A blush blooms on her cheeks. She’s barefoot, coffee mug in hand, and the smile she offers me is warm.
"Raffael," she says, stepping aside. "Come in."
She disarms me without trying.
The suite smells like white peonies and vanilla, the kind of scent that lingers for days.
The source is flooding the room—bouquets in crystal vases, wrapped arrangements on every surface, and even the floor.
Silver and gold gift boxes line the walls.
A few ribbons trail across the floor like they gave up mid-celebration.
"Congratulations again," I say quietly.
"Thank you." Her smile turns a little shy, like she’s still adjusting to this whole new world. "Marcello’s waiting for you in the office. Down the hall, last door."
I nod and move past her, but just as I do, she reaches out, and I feel a light pressure, a brief squeeze of my arm.
"I’m glad you’re making Sophia happy. She deserves it."
It’s nothing. A simple gesture. A few quiet words.
But it hits me harder than I expected. I’m used to being a loner—a shadow operator.
No attachments. No shared toothbrush holders or dinner conversations.
No one waiting for me to make it home. Sophia changed that.
I’m learning what it means to be part of something.
To be seen, not just used. To protect, not just control.
And this? Violet?
That’s something new entirely.
She doesn’t just speak to me as Sophia’s new sister or friend.
She speaks to me like family.
And it… sticks.
Not in the soft, sentimental way. I don’t do soft.
But somewhere beneath the sharp edges and old scars, it carves a space.
And for the first time—the first fucking time—I understand something I hadn’t wanted to see.
I thought I couldn’t kill Marcello because of Sophia.
But maybe that isn't all of it. Maybe I didn’t want to burn everything down and walk away, not because of her…
but because of them. Marcello. Enrico. Toni. Stephano.
I've always considered them collateral damage.
I’ve left collateral damage behind countless times.
Never thought twice.
But now?
I slow.
Not stop. Never stop.
But I think. I think there might be more behind alliances, friends, and family than I've given them credit for. There might even be more power behind it than leverage, threats, and war.
For a man like me? That’s a beginning.
I reach the office door and knock once.
"Come in," Marcello calls.
I enter, already on guard. He’s standing by the window, the skyline blazing behind him in golden light. His sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a tension to him that wasn’t there yesterday, not during the ceremony, not even during the wedding toast.
"You wanted to see me?" I say, closing the door behind me.
Marcello turns slowly. He doesn’t gesture to a chair; he doesn’t smile. "This won’t take long."
He walks to the bar to prepare an espresso, raising an eyebrow in question. A few minutes ago, I would have said no. But after Violet's words, I hesitate before I nod.
"I’m not going to waste words," he begins. "I love my sister. And I’ve already failed her once."
I don't reply; just wait. The sound of the espresso machine is loud between us as he lets the silence stretch for a moment.
"My father was a violent man. A proud man.
He hurt my mother in more ways than one.
And she took it. Every time. Do you know what that does to a boy?
" His eyes cut to mine. "Watching your hero fall on her knees in front of a monster and thank him for it? "
I'm not sure where he's going with this, because he should know by now that I'd never hurt Sophia. Fuck, I was the one who took her away from that hellhole. Not him.
Marcello steps forward, handing me the espresso, but his expression is anything but hospitable. "I see how Sophia looks at you. And I know how dangerous that kind of love is for women like her.
"My father was a prick, an upstart like you—a lowlife soldier who somehow blackmailed his way to the top. Mamma was a mafia princess, just like Sophia, and instead of appreciating her for what she brought to the table, he resented it. Resented her and made her pay for his inferiority complex."
He lets that settle before he continues, making a second cup for himself.
"I don’t give a fuck if you’re Margarita's son. Or what you do with the line you just inherited. If you hurt her—physically, emotionally, in any way—I will find a way to take you down. I’ll tear your kingdom apart, brick by brick, until there's nothing left but your name in the dirt. "
The room goes quiet. Even the damn espresso machine hushes like it knows what’s about to happen.
Rage coils in my gut, slow and deep.
Who the fuck does he think he is? Like I’d ever lay a hand on Sophia.
Like I’m the threat. Where was he—this righteous protector—when she was bleeding behind locked doors?
When her spirit was breaking inch by inch, collar by collar?
Where was he when she screamed with nightmares or cowered away because I grabbed something from behind her?
He didn’t kill Roberto.
I did.
He didn’t walk through hell to find her.
I did.
And now he’s going to stand there in his silk suit, sipping espresso like a goddamn judge? I inhale. A slow, icy drag through my nose, prepping the words—not just words, teeth—to cut him down, to remind him exactly who the fuck he’s dealing with.
But then…
The scent hits me.
Magnolia.
Fucking magnolia. The kind Violet likes. The kind Sophia noticed.
Just like that, I see her face in my mind, soft, hopeful, brave. The way she looked at me the first time I let her touch the parts of me no one ever had. And everything shifts.
Two paths unfold.
One ends with my fist buried in Marcello’s smug face. I’d make it clear—crystal fucking clear—who owns the throne, who earned it with blood and fire and ruin. But that path? The chair next to me would be empty. Sophia gone. Not because she’s weak, but because she’s better than this. Better than me.
The other path?
It'll cost me pride. Restraint. Control.
But it might just give me something more.
Real loyalty.
Not fear-based obedience. Not power bought with favors and threats.
The kind of loyalty that builds empires that last. I have soldiers—Brothers-in-arms. I’ve got Leo and Gray, and yeah, I’ve got others who’d die for me, like Mario did.
But none of that means a damn thing if I’m always looking over my shoulder.
And I’m tired of being that man.
So I don’t throw the punch.
I swallow the fire.
And I choose to be something more than just the shadow they all fear.
I choose her.
I step forward. Keeping my voice low and controlled.
"You think I don’t know where I came from?
Who I am, or what I am not?" I bite the words off, every one dipped in years of grit and hard lessons. "You think I haven’t spent my life knowing exactly where I fall in this world? I’ve never once had the luxury of forgetting it. "
I shake my head, clenching my jaw to keep my temper under control.
"I met your father. More than once. You see these?
" I motion to the jagged lines on my face—scars that never quite healed right.
"You don’t have to convince me what kind of piece of shit he was.
I know monsters when I meet them. He was one of the worst."
A slow, bitter breath leaves my lungs.
"I might not have had a formal education. I didn’t grow up learning how to fold napkins or negotiate territory over aged scotch. But I do know when I meet a woman who’s so far above me, I should be on my knees just for the chance to breathe the same air."
I meet his gaze, unflinching. "But I did reach her. Somehow. And I’m not about to waste that miracle. You hear me?"
I step closer, voice quiet now—deadly serious.
"I’ll worship the ground she walks on for the rest of my fucking life. Not because I have to. But because it’s the only way I know how to show her how much she’s saved me."
His eyes measure me. Something flickers behind them. He gives me a short nod, "Then we understand each other."