Chapter 30
SOFIYA
Fallbrook Estate glitters under the mid-July sun like a priceless jewel.
Shame it feels like a cage.
I’m storming down the catering tent aisle, clipboard in hand, designer heels turning turf to submission. ‘No. We are not serving foie gras to a family with this many Catholics and pregnant women. Find another amuse-bouche. One that doesn’t scream class warfare.’
The chef mutters something in French. I shoot him a glare so cold he nearly slips on his own sweat.
Cesare walks past with Nico strapped to his chest in a black baby Bjorn, grinning like the happiest man alive. ‘Keep going, bedda. Maddie hasn’t threatened divorce in over six hours. We’re on a roll.’
I wish the cut of his jaw and that tuft of hair falling into his eyes didn’t remind me so much of Rafa. And seriously, I wish he’d stop smiling altogether. I’ve only been here six hours and the withdrawal symptoms are brutal.
Orazio lounges nearby, drink in hand. ‘You’re turning out to be quite the little asset,’ he murmurs. ‘Unstable, sì. But interesting.’
What the hell is wrong with me that the weird as fuck compliment warms my heart?
Don’t think about your heart. How it aches for him.
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ I snap, brushing past him. The twins try to flank me next, Renzo with his charming smirk, Dante’s quieter but piercing interest, and Narciso’s lazy swagger as he trails behind them, pretending disinterest but failing.
I bat them all away with a flick of my pen and a deadpan, ‘You want to help? Go set yourselves on fire. It’ll save time.’
They laugh. But my smile is mechanical, preloaded. The hollowness inside me is growing teeth.
Rafa’s absence is louder than any Mancinelli threat. We texted on the plane. I’ve FaceTimed once. Then in the last three hours… silence.
I feel it. Something pulling taut and fraying. He didn’t just let me come to Fallbrook.
He orchestrated it.
Maddie finds me later in the nursery, one hand toying with a floral arrangement I hate. She leans in the doorway like a woman who knows everything already.
‘So,’ she says, tone casual. ‘You want to tell me what’s clawing through your ribcage?’
I stare at the roses. ‘I think I’m in love with him.’
Her eyes widen. ‘Fuck. Truly?’
I purse my lips, hating myself a little for blurting that shit out. Her face softens. ‘You didn’t mean to say that out loud, did you?’
‘Is “fuck no” too rude?’
She smiles. ‘Not at all.’ She draws closer, rescues the arrangement before I shred it. Then she cups my shoulders. ‘So, what’s the plan, Sof?’ She’s trying to sound calm, removed even, but I see the hopeful glint in her eyes.
I shrug. ‘I want to tell him. I want to do something about it. But…’ I stop, bite my lip like some B-movie actress in an erotica movie franchise.
‘What if it all… unravels?’ I murmur, barely recognising my own voice. ‘What if I hand him my heart and he doesn’t even notice he’s holding a live grenade?’ Or what if the thing he’s still hiding is what breaks me?
Maddie moves in, kneels, places her hands on my knees.
‘Then you have front row seat of taking him the fuck out,’ she says, then giggles darkly when I gape at her.
‘Sorry, I’m the wife of a mobster. I’m in my mayhem era.
What I meant was, you’ll survive it. Like you always do.
But don’t let the chance pass you by or you’ll spend your life regretting it.
You’ve fought for your family since you were much too young.
It’s time to fight for what matters to you. ’
I nod, but it’s hollow. Because deep in my gut, I know.
I’m not chasing love.
I’m chasing the truth.
And if those two don’t collide…
I’m a little ashamed that I’m too chicken to finish that thought.
The wind howls through the crumbling stone of Convento di Sant’Isidoro, the monastery turned asylum turned ghost. The kind of place no one speaks about without spitting.
My boots crunch gravel. Wild rosemary and black cypress sway under a moon like bleached bone. The crucifix above the archway is rusted, warped like faith left too long in the rain.
And Rafa’s here.
Alone.
Pacing the cloister with his gun drawn, scanning the ruins like he expects a ghost to leap from the shadows. Maybe he hopes for it.
His back is to me. I don’t call out.
Because I know.
The whispers from the deep forums, the encrypted files I wasn’t supposed to dig into. Giada was here. My sister. The one who vanished like a shadow. The one Rafa pretended was less important than El Topo.
And yet here he is. With a weapon.
To protect himself? Or to finish her?
My stomach turns to acid.
‘You’ve been holding out on me, Enforcer.’
He spins around. And the look on his face – guilt and grief and something that tears through me – confirms everything.
The Glock lowers like it’s suddenly too heavy for his sins. ‘Sofiya—’
‘Why are you here?’ My voice is dust and cracked porcelain. ‘Why are you looking for my sister? And please don’t bother to deny it. And while you’re at it, tell me… If you came in peace, why are you holding a gun?’
He laughs. It’s a broken sound. And he looks exhausted. Weighed down with boulders he can’t shift. ‘Maybe that’s all I am, bedda. A killer with a broken heart.’
That stops me, dead in my feet and in my heart. ‘Is that all you want to be?’
The silence after is brutal.
I step closer. ‘Tell me the truth, Rafaelle.’
Rafaelle
Her voice is ice.
But her eyes – fuck me – her eyes glitter with tears. Tears I put there.
Is that all you want to be?
The question hits harder than any slug. I drag a hand over my face, feel dust and sweat and something close to shame. ‘When I’ve fucked up this badly? Maybe that’s all I deserve.’
She takes one hesitant step closer. I can’t stand seeing her look at me like a stranger, so I start talking – ripping stitches I’ve kept shut for too many years.
‘The last time I saw my mother alive, she was smiling. Said she’d bring me cannoli from my favourite bakery, even though we both knew hers were better.
’ My throat tightens. ‘She promised she’d be back before dinner.
That smile was my first memory of love, and the last time I felt unconditional love. ’
Sofiya’s lips tremble. I push on.
‘Maddie swore Giada was the last person to speak to Mama. I needed to know her final words. Needed to hear them from the only witness still breathing.’ I swallow hard. ‘So I came here. To beg, not to kill.’
She looks at the gun again.
‘I brought the piece because peace never comes without a weapon in my world,’ I admit. ‘But I walked these ruins praying Giada would appear so I could put the gun down.’
A tear breaks free on her cheek. It guts me.
‘I don’t deserve forgiveness,’ I rasp. ‘But I can’t stand another second without telling you…
I fell for you in the split second you pulled a trigger and spared my life.
You are the miracle my grief never knew it needed.
I love you, Sofiya. Fiercely. Stupidly. Enough to trade every drop of vengeance for one breath of your laughter. ’
She covers her mouth, sob catching, and I step closer, cupping her jaw, thumbs brushing tears away.
‘One more,’ I whisper, voice wrecked. ‘If loving you is the bullet that finally drops me, I’ll thank God for the perfect aim.’
The Glock slips from my fingers, clattering on stone. She surges forward and our mouths collide, our bodies trembling. Her hands fist my shirt, hauling me in as if distance itself is an enemy.
‘I love you too,’ she breathes against my lips, her tears mixing with mine. ‘You stupid, beautiful man.’
We stand amid shattered arches and the echo of ghosts, kissing like we can stitch our broken histories together with nothing but mouth and promise. Somewhere in the wind, I swear I hear my mother’s voice, a soft Sicilian lilt, drifting through the cypress.
Be happy, figghiu mio. You finally found home.
Sofiya clings to me like she’s trying to anchor us both. Like she’s still not sure we’re real. I don’t blame her.
We kiss until the pain dulls into something survivable. Until the ghosts step back and let us breathe.
Her lips brush mine again, softer this time. Searching. Then she pulls away just enough to whisper, ‘Do you still hear her?’
I nod, throat too tight for words. My hand settles at the base of her spine, pressing her flush against me. ‘She told me to be happy. For once in my fucking life.’
She lets out a shuddering laugh, rests her forehead to mine. ‘Then maybe listen to her.’
We stand there, two assassins soaked in sorrow and soot, surrounded by holy ruins that once promised salvation. I run a thumb down her jaw, then along her bruised collarbone. The shadows hug every curve of her body, and I want – no, need – to feel her again. Flesh to flesh. Not because of sex.
Well, not just that.
But because I need to remind myself she’s here. That I didn’t lose her.
‘Let’s stay,’ I say gruffly, my voice cracking. ‘Just for a bit.’
She nods once, and I guide her gently to the weathered steps at the altar’s edge. She sits, legs folding beneath her. I lower myself beside her, our knees brushing.
Wind stirs her hair. I tuck a strand behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her temple. Her eyes are still shining with something deeper. That bottomless soul of hers. My tigra.
‘You scare the shit out of me,’ I murmur.
She arches a brow. ‘Because I showed up with truth instead of violence?’
‘No.’ I touch her bare wrist where the vein flutters beneath my thumb. ‘Because I’d burn the whole fucking world to keep you safe. And part of me is still learning that you don’t need me to.’
She leans her head on my shoulder. ‘But maybe I want you to. Sometimes.’
I exhale slowly. ‘Fuck, that’s even worse.’
We sit in silence, without bullets or enemies. Two souls on sacred ground, letting the night fold around us. My hand finds hers. I trace the calluses on her fingers, the roughness that matches my own. A match cut from the same blade.
‘You think she’s still alive?’ she asks quietly. ‘Giada.’
I sigh. ‘I don’t know. And that terrifies me more than knowing. Because it would devastate you, and I’ll have to kill a whole lot of people to make you smile.’
Sofiya nods, solemn. Accepting. “We’ll find her. And she’ll tell you what you need to know. I promise.”
My throat fills, blocking any attempt at swallowing. “I believe you. And I love you.”
Then she turns her face towards mine. Her voice is low, dangerous. ‘But don’t vanish on me again, Rafa. A sister is bad enough. I can’t fucking bear it, do you hear me?’
A shudder ripples through me at the agony in the plea. ‘Sì, amuri miu. I vow it. No lies. No secrets.’ My jaw tightens. A beat throbs past. ‘Except the ones I haven’t figured out how to tell you yet.’
She gives me a look. ‘I’ll decide what I can handle. You don’t get to play martyr on my behalf.’
I smirk, wry and aching. ‘You’re the only woman who could cut me with truth and I’d beg for more.’
‘Good,’ she says. ‘Because I love you, Rafaelle Salvatore. And I plan to be your sharpest blade.’
I reach for her, pulling her onto my lap. She straddles me without hesitation, arms looping around my neck, nose brushing mine. ‘Say it again.’
‘I love you.’
‘Fuck.’ I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her, grounding myself. ‘You just stitched something broken in me I didn’t know was bleeding.’
We stay like that long after the wind dies down.
Later, I’ll carry her back to the car, drive us to someplace warm and private and ours. Later, we’ll peel the rest of the pain from each other’s skin in a bed that smells like new beginnings.
But for now, in the crumbling heart of a ruined sanctuary, we sit together, alive, in love, and no longer alone.
And Jesus fucking Christ, it’s more than enough.
More than I’ll ever deserve.
The storm breaks above us like a warning shot, thunder echoing through the ancient bones of the convent. But all I can hear is the rasp of her breath and the pulse between us, too loud, too alive to ignore.
Without a word, I draw her into my arms. The world narrows to her scent – heady wild jasmine and brave warrior – and the rasp of her breathing. My chest tightens. ‘I love you,’ I murmur, voice thick. ‘So fucking much.’
Her head tilts back, surprised tears catching moonlight. She presses her lips to mine, soft, and every jagged piece of me mends, just enough.
Our kiss deepens, no longer gentle but hungry. Her hands tear at my shirt, nails grazing skin, and I lift her off her feet, pressing her against the cool stone wall. She gasps, legs locking around my hips.
‘I should make you wait,’ I growl into her mouth, fingers already curling under her top. ‘I should punish you for showing up and reading me like scripture.’
‘But you won’t,’ she breathes, voice shaking with need. ‘Because you need this too.’
‘God, Sofiya,’ I rasp, voice low. ‘You feel so good.’
She gasps again, nails raking down my shoulders. ‘Rafa—’
I slide my cock inside her in one rough thrust, and we both shatter. She cries out, fingers gripping my shoulders, and I hold her steady as her body clenches around me.
‘I could fuck you for a thousand years and still not get enough,’ I whisper into her ear, each word laced with reverence and threat. ‘You were made to ruin me, tigra. And I’ll thank you for it every damn time.’
She trembles against me, moaning my name like it’s both plea and curse. My pace is unrelenting, slow, deep, meant to drag every ounce of feeling from her soul to mine.
I cup her face, halting for a moment, and we share a breath, eyes locking. Words aren’t needed, only the heat of our union, the promise that, together, we can endure whatever comes.
‘You’re mine,’ I say, voice hoarse, forehead resting against hers. ‘And I don’t care if it damns me, I’ll murder-spree every day to keep you.’
Her mouth meets mine again, desperate, messy, perfect. Her release crashes over her with a shudder, body arching, breath caught on my name. I follow with a broken sound, burying myself in her, every muscle drawn tight, every wound laid bare.
Lightning cracks in the distance, two strikes to light the darkness.
I hold her tight, knowing we won’t be the same, but sure of one thing.
We face whatever comes – together. I trace a finger down her cheek.
‘I’m so lucky I get to fuck you and love you, keep living and keep hunting with you by my side. Forever.’
And as I lower us to the stone floor, my arms still wrapped around her, our bodies still tangled, I know this isn’t the end.
This is the beginning.
‘And I’ll be right there, cor’ miu, spreeing right along with you. Because sometimes, love doesn’t save you from the fire. It teaches you how to survive it.’