Page 92 of Of Oaths and Secrets

As we settle into our seats, Paolo takes his position up front, already leaning back with a smirk as he glances over his shoulder. “So, have you started brainstorming names for my little niece? I think Paolo-etta has a nice ring to it.”

Nora laughs, shaking her head. “Pretty sure that’s not happening.”

“Oh, come on,” he protests. “Then how about something more… dignified? Like… Paolina. Or Paolina the First.”

I roll my eyes, but Nora humors him, leaning into me with a smile. “We’ll keep it in mind, Paolo.”

“Or,” he continues, undeterred, “we name her something fierce, like Valkyrie. She’ll need a name that strikes fear into the hearts of her future dates.” He pauses, grinning. “Not that she’ll ever have them, right, Rafaele?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “You’re catching on.”

Paolo claps his hands. “Perfect! I’ll teach her how to glare at boys from a young age.”

Nora shakes her head, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’re both absolutely incorrigible. Poor girl doesn’t even know what she’s in for.”

As we arrive at the house, Paolo opens the car door for Nora, offering her an exaggerated bow. “After you, soon-to-be mother of the next queen of the underworld.”

Nora laughs, rolling her eyes as she steps out of the car, her hand in mine. But as we walk toward the house, I see a familiar figure waiting at the entrance, his posture tense and his face grim. My father’s consigliere, Max Romano, is standing there, and he looks like he’s aged ten years.

Max and I have never seen eye to eye—he’s been my father’s man through and through, always critical of my way of doing things. He rarely comes here, and seeing him now, with that look on his face, sends a chill through me.

When he speaks, his voice is low, his tone somber. “The capo is dead, Rafaele. He had a heart attack. You’re the capo now.”

It’s been ten days since my father’s passing, ten days of stepping fully into his role. While my responsibilities haven’t changed much, the weight of the new administrative and social obligations has been heavier than I anticipated. I always found the sociability side of it all tedious, and now it’s relentless.

And I miss Nora. I haven’t truly seen her this past week—leaving before she’s up and returning long after she’s asleep. I chose to keep the business away from our home, a decision my father would never have made, but I want our space to be safe, untouched by this life. For now, it means more time apart, but I know it’ll be worth it.

Still, every night, I find small reminders of her warmth—a plate of baked goods on the counter or little notes she leaves for me. When I finally slip into bed, she instinctively nestles againstme, and even Fate has stopped glaring when I nudge her aside for my place beside Nora.

Holding her like this, I feel the worries of the day dissolve as if the world shrinks down to just us. It’s a high, this feeling—one I never expected, but now I crave it. It’s incredible, really, that more people don’t seek this out.

Today is shaping up to be one of the most tedious yet significant days. With the mourning period complete, it’s time to name my own team. There’s no question about my consigliere—Paolo has always been the clear choice; no one else holds my trust as firmly as he does. As for my sottocapo, Leo should logically fill that role, and yet… that’s where the challenge lies.

I’m here in my father’s office at the mansion, hoping Leo might choose to move in, though I doubt he will. My memories of this place are grim enough, and I imagine Leo’s are even darker; if he had his way, he’d likely burn the whole place to the ground. Perhaps Paolo?—

“How dare you?” My Aunt Maria’s shrill voice interrupts my thoughts.

I look up to see her standing in the doorway, draped head-to-toe in black, an ostentatious veil obscuring half her face. Her indignation practically radiates across the room.

“Funny, I could ask you the same thing,” I respond, my tone icy. “Howdareyou barge in here like this? And howdareyou raise your voice to me?” I stand, slamming my hand against the desk to emphasize my point. “I am not my father, Aunt Maria—I don’t owe you anything.”

She flinches, but her glare doesn’t falter, her contempt sharper than ever. “You didn’t even wait for me to come back! You had him cremated! He was my brother!”

“And he was my father—the capo. His burial was my responsibility, not yours,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “And it’s hardly my fault you were halfway across the world in Italy.” Ipause, watching her. “But why the outrage now? You’ve been back for days. What’s different about today?”

“Because I was in mourning!” she snaps. “You didn’t even wait two days. How heartless can you be?”

I adjust my tie, unbothered. “Completely heartless. I’m not sure why you’re surprised; your brother made me this way.”

Her mouth tightens, her face twisted with disgust. “You really are a monster.”

“Yes, I am.” I meet her gaze, unfazed. The same words her daughter had once thrown at me. And speaking of Sofia… now that my father’s gone, there’s nothing stopping me from finding out exactly what role she played in all this.

“Tell me, where is Sofia?”

Her eyes narrow, a flicker of unease crossing her face. “Sofia is in Sicily,” she says, her voice clipped. “Where she’s been grieving her uncle.”

“How convenient,” I reply, folding my arms. “Just as my father dies, she’s nowhere to be found.”

---