CHAPTER TWELVE #2
They want to discuss how I’ve gone and officially lost my shit. I’m not looking forward to it.
“So, Liliana,” Elio drawls. “Why don’t you tell us about the first time you met my brother?”
They already know this story. They just want to hear it from her point of view. Assholes.
She considers the request for a moment before launching into the short tale that ended after a single night.
They’re just as riveted as when I told it.
They find it funny when she mentions some parts I’d intentionally left out.
Not the intimate ones, but the fact that I grudgingly bought her food and the horror of a drink she made me that night.
She doesn’t hate that night. I can see the ray of happiness in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks as she recounts the events. I’m glad to see that she doesn’t regret it.
It fills with a little bit of hope. That maybe things aren’t as fucked up between us as I think they are.
“So you’re saying this is only the second time you’ve met our brother?” Matteo questions curiously.
“Yes. It doesn’t feel like it though,” she murmurs, avoiding my gaze.
I know exactly what she means by that.
When I look away from her, my eyes slide over to Matteo’s.
There’s a slight frown on his face as he inclines his head towards the door, beckoning me outside.
He stands in the next breath, leaving the dining room.
With a sigh, I push my chair back as well, remembering my manners even if my asshole of a brother doesn’t.
“Be right back, Liliana,” I say to the woman currently spreading peanut butter over toast. She offers me a small nod. “Be nice, Elly.”
“I’m always nice,” my younger brother grunts as I leave the room as well.
I find Matteo leaning against the wall a couple feet from the door. I join him on the other side, staring him down and waiting for him to voice his disapproval.
“What’s your plan here, Rafaelle?” he asks in Italian.
I shoot him a dry look, “You know me, fratello, I’m not really one to plan. I prefer to leave that to you.”
“I know you can be impulsive and violent and reckless. But even you have to understand how delicate this situation is.”
My gaze hardens, “I’m not an idiot, Matteo.”
“Do you have feelings for her?”
“What?” I ask, surprised by the question.
“Answer the question, Raf. I’m not going to ask it again.”
Darkness flares in my chest. My hands tighten into fists as I consider it. Mostly because I don’t have an answer. How the fuck would I know? What do I feel for Liliana?
It feels like a cold obsession. A longing made potent because she disappeared without my permission. I might not want to hurt her or see her hurt, but I’m not sure I have feelings for her. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to feel.
Eventually, I meet Matteo’s eyes, “No. I don’t.”
The words leave my throat dry. They feel like a lie. Matteo doesn’t look so convinced.
“She’s a Navarro, Rafaelle. You know exactly the kind of man her father is.”
“She is nothing like her father,” I growl.
That bastard has no honor, no loyalty. He’s a sick, selfish, sadistic bastard who’s more likely to stab his men in the back than protect them. I’ve seen him do it time and time again.
“You don’t know that. You don’t know her at all, fratello.”
He’s right. I fucking don’t. She might feel like a scab beneath my skin, one that refuses to heal or leave me alone. But at the end of the day, I barely know her.
Matteo continues speaking, “When we make the trade, I need you assurance that you won’t do anything to ruin it.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m sure you can understand why I’m finding it so hard to believe you.
You’re acting very unlike yourself. It’s confusing.
To me, to her, hell probably even to yourself.
You need to figure out a way to take your emotions out of the equation.
This is business. That woman back there, is nothing but a business deal.
One that ends with our family coming out on top. Do you understand me?”
My reply is a glare. I hate that he’s so fucking right.
Confusion is definitely the right word to describe the cluster fuck going on in my head.
And I decide I can’t go on like this. Regardless of the business deal or any of that bullshit, for the sake of my own sanity and wellbeing, I need to shut it all out.
I’m adept at keeping shit looked behind an impenetrable metal door.
I can do that right now with Liliana as well.
“Are you done talking?” I ask my brother.
He frowns, his expression unsure, I think he’s wondering if he may have pushed me too hard.
My brother’s great with making plans and strategy.
People have always been dicey to him. At least they were until he met his wife.
He’s better now because of it. But the asshole still peeks through sometimes.
“Rafaelle...” he starts but I cut him off.
“If you’re done, take Elio and get the fuck out of my house,” I tell him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your precious business deal safe until you need her.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw before he nods once in agreement. I walk back into the dining room, feeling ice in my veins and anger. At my brother, at myself, I have no idea. It’s not enough for an outburst, but it does settle deep in my chest.
I’ve locked away all the uncertainty and confusion, and now an angry helplessness seeps through me.
Liliana frowns once I take a seat, her eyes meeting mine like she’s searching for something. I look away, avoiding her gaze.
“Let’s go, Elio,” Matteo calls from the doorway.
My younger brother hesitates like he wants to argue but eventually gets to his feet and leaves the room. We’re the only two left apart from the staff lining the walls. The silence is soothing for a couple of seconds, at least until she breaks it.
When she starts speaking her voice is hesitant, “So I was wondering, in the spirit of you being halfway decent and giving me a knife for protection, is there any chance I could ask you for something?”
My eyes are on the plate in front of me, my hands busy with the bacon on a plate as I cut a piece off for a bite.
“Rafaelle,” she prods.
“I’m listening,” I grunt before raising the food to my lips.
When I glance at her, she’s biting down on her bottom lip distractedly.
“There’s a bag at my motel room. It has some of my stuff in it. And I’d really like it back. My phone as well. I need to talk to my mother. It’s been two days, she’s probably worried sick about me.”
I stare her down for a minute, until she starts to shift uncomfortably, confusion in her gaze.
“You have a lot of demands, little siren. Remember your place.”
Her mouth parts, “Are you fucking serious?”
“Finish your food, Liliana. I may have given you a knife but that’s the extent of my generosity.”
“A knife is the extent of your generosity? Do you even realize how insane you sound.”
“The bacon is really nice. Try it,” I urge, ignoring the anger in her tone.
She scoffs in disbelief and in the next breath is jumping to her feet and pushing back her chair.
“I’ve lost my appetite. I can’t look at your stupid face any longer,” she snaps before sweeping out of the room.
The cutlery in my hand clatters on the plates as I let them drop, leaning back in my chair in the wake of her tantrum. I run a hand over the bottom of my lip exhaling a harsh breath. It’s probably best that she hates me.
For her sake and mine, I can’t be anything more than a psychopathic bastard that kidnapped her.
* * *
Later that day I grow curious enough to text my little brother.
Me: Where are her things?
Elio: Always so fucking vague. What things?
I roll my eyes at the reply. He’s a fucking idiot. Who else would I be asking about?
Me: Liliana’s stuff. She said they were in her motel room. Her phone and some other shit.
Elio: Oh right. I retrieved them already. I’ll have it sent over.
An hour later, one of his guards delivers a backpack to my house.
I head over to my bedroom, tossing the meagre contents on to my bed.
It’s just some clothes, books, her laptop.
But then my gaze snags onto a leather worn book.
When I open it, I realize it’s a song book.
Filled with lyrics. I settle down on my bed, going through it for so long that time passes around me while I’m stuck in a daze.
Her lyrics are just as entrancing as her voice had been.
And I can’t help but wonder if I’m the devil with the dark eyes and a heart of lies that she’s referring to on a couple of the pages.
She doesn’t write about him like she hates him.
She writes like he has a soul, one that she deems worthy of saving.
I’m not sure she really believes that though.
I definitely don’t.