Page 17 of Of Oaths and Secrets

“Indeed.” He presses the button to call Mr. Bellini back, his eyes never leaving mine.

When the jeweler reappears, Rafaele points to the ring I’ve chosen. “We want to see this one.”

Mr. Bellini raises an eyebrow but quickly recovers, smiling as he retrieves the ring from the case. “Oh, quite a different choice. This is only one carat with violet sapphires. Far more discreet.” He then smiles warmly as he extends it to me. “Very you, actually.”

Before I can reach for it, Rafaele’s hand darts out, catching the ring first. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides it onto my finger. The cool metal feels foreign, but the ring settles perfectly into place, as if it belonged there.

“It suits you,” Rafaele says, his voice softer now, as though he’s made some internal decision.

I glance down at the ring, the understated yet elegant design reflecting a part of me I hadn’t expected him to see. “It does,” I agree, the words carrying more significance than I anticipated.

Mr. Bellini beams, clearly pleased with the choice. “A perfect fit, if I may say so.”

Rafaele nods as he releases my hand. “We’ll take it.”

As Mr. Bellini moves to finalize the purchase, I can’t help but admire the ring on my finger. This ring, small and unassuming, feels more meaningful than anything grander would. It’s a step toward something real—something that, despite all the uncertainties, feels like it just might work.

There may not be love, but the way Rafaele acted—taking my opinion into account, actually being attuned to my needs—gives me a glimmer of hope. I may not be happy, but perhaps I can be comfortable in a union that has the potential to grow into mutual respect.

It’s a small comfort, but in a world as unforgiving as ours, it feels like a significant victory.

“What now?” I ask him as we exit the jewelry store, and Paolo’s eyes immediately go to the ring on my finger, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Now I drive you home,” Rafaele replies, as if it’s the most logical next step.

“Oh,” I say, trying to mask my disappointment. I had hoped that this outing might lead to more—a chance to get to know him better, maybe talk about something other than duty. But Rafaele’s mind seems to be on a completely different track.

Paolo, who has been watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement, clears his throat. “Boss, don’t you think you should, I don’t know, spend a bit more time together? Maybe grab a coffee or something?”

Rafaele gives Paolo a blank look, clearly puzzled by the suggestion. “Why? I’ve taken care of what needed to be done. The ring is chosen. Now we can move on.”

Paolo looks at him silently.

Rafaele frowns slightly, glancing at me as if trying to gauge whether this is something I actually care about. “Is that something you’d want? Coffee?”

“Not if you have something important to do, it’s okay.”

“Okay, then it’s settled. Let us drive you home.”

Paolo looks as though he’s about to protest, but he holds his tongue and simply sighs with a shake of his head as he opens the back door to usher us in.

As we settle into the back seat, there’s an awkward silence that Paolo seems to find particularly entertaining. He catches Rafaele’s eye in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?”

Rafaele clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. “So… Do you like coffee?” he asks, the question so painfully mundane that I almost laugh.

“Not particularly. I’m more of a tea person. If I ever have coffee, it’s with so much creamer and sugar that it’s no longer coffee.” I grimace. “Please don’t have my Italian card revoked.”

He nods. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Is that an attempt at a joke from him? It seems like it, but his face is this impossible cool mask.

“What about you? Do you like coffee?”

He looks at me for a moment as if the question genuinely surprises him. “I don’t really drink much coffee.”

Paolo, unable to resist, chimes in from the front. “Rafa prefers his mornings with a straight shot of espresso—no-nonsense, just like him.”

I smile at that, finding the idea of Rafaele being so straightforward oddly endearing. “That suits you.”

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