Page 43 of Wicked Mistletoe

Lead settles in my chest.I know how. Fucking Emilia. But I just glance away, shutting my eyes as the last puzzle piece clicks into place.

“What if I told you I missed the city? Missed…you?”

That was her answer when I asked her why she came back to Manhattan for her residency. But that was a lie. She didn’t come back for her fucking residency at all, but because of us. For some reason, she was assigned to monitor us and report our movements to her supervisors.

Chills fill my body as the reality of her betrayal sinks in. I was such an idiot, inviting her back into my life, my home... my heart.That little traitor. My jaw clenches, muscles rigid with anger while my brothers argue amongst themselves about how we were found.

One word from me would clear their confusion, but I remain quiet. Because I can’t bring myself to say it—not even now, after everything. And that just pisses me off even more. The fact that I’m still protecting her makes me want to smash my fist through the fucking window.

When we pull into the underground garage at my penthouse, I finally speak up as Maximo cuts the engine. “You guys should head home. I’ll be in touch.”

“What?” Maximo frowns at me, but I’m already out of the van, feeling their confused gazes boring into my back as I make my way to the elevator.

I nod to my security team as I pass them in the hallway, then push into my penthouse. And there she is.Emilia. Pacing in front of the living room, looking like she’s rehearsing for a part in some drama. The second I walk in, her eyes go wide, mouth dropping open.

“Rafael, you’re hurt!” She rushes towards me, face etched with what looks like genuine concern. It’s convincing, but now I see it for what it is.What a little actress.Every touch, every smile, every moment between us—was any of it real?

I step back before she can touch me. “Don’t,” I say coldly. Ice coats every syllable. “What did you think would happen when you sicced your fed buddies on us? That we’d sit down andchat over fucking tea and cookies?!”

She recoils as if I just hit her, eyes flying to mine, and her arms just drop to her sides like she’s suddenly helpless. Oscar-worthy performance from the bureau’s finest. “You… you know?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t want to do it!” she cries. “But someone had to stop you and the others, Rafael. Did you think your takeover of the New YorkCosaNostrawent unnoticed? The bloody trail you’ve left behind you? And, and now what? Kidnapping little girls? Torturing them? I couldn’t stand back and watch you destroy yourself. The Rafael I knew would never?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I roar. My hands curl into fists as I fight the urge to throttle her while she goes on her tirade. So self-righteous—just like her father was. At least before he turned for reasons best known to him. “Shut the fuck up, you sanctimonious little traitor.”

“Oh, please, Rafael. I wouldn’t have had to betray you if you didn’t turn into this… criminal. What happened to you? I thought you hated your father and everything he stood for. How could you go down this path!”

I scoff, shoving my hands into my hair. “You want to know how? Maybe because I’m sick of being powerless. Of watching the people I love get hurt and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

Images flash through my mind—that first hellish year after we left Little Italy. The gnawing terror when Emilia vanished with a trace. The soul-crushing loneliness as my brothers drifted away, forging their own paths.

“Maybe because I wanted to be so powerful no one would dare stand before me and spew the rubbish you’re spewing at me now. Maybe because I want to be able to protect what’s mine.” But she only stares at me with big eyes, shaking her head like she can’t understand.

I should fucking kill her for what she did—for putting my brothers and me in danger. My fists tighten in my hair because I know I can’t do that. Can’t stand to see her hurt.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Emilia. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

She flinches, her face paling, eyes brimming with tears. I turn my back to her as my chest tightens and concern pierces through my anger. Fuck her and how she makes me feel.

“Rafael, please,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “We can get past this. Don’t you see? The only thing standing between us is this… thiscareeryou’ve chosen. You want to get married? Let’s do that. A wife can’t investigate or testify against her husband.”

I glance back at her in disbelief. But she’s still looking up at me, eyes wide with desperate, fearful hope, with tears rolling down her face. Is she fucking serious? “You should have told meeverything when I first proposed. We could have worked things out then. It’s too late now.”

“No!” She lunges forward, her face crumpling up even more as she grabs my arms. “Don’t say that. I only agreed to help them to prove your innocence, I swear. And then I saw the name of the orphanage on your desk and thought it might be best if you were stopped, and I—I…” She trails off, choking on a sob.

I watch, almost fascinated by the way her face contorts like she’s in pain, and despite myself, a twinge of doubt niggles at me, but I crush it. “Fool me once and all that,amorina,” I say, twisting the endearment into something bitter, mocking.

Then she does the one thing I least expect—she looks me dead in the eye. And for a split second, it fucking catches me off guard. She holds my gaze, unwavering, even as her lips tremble and more tears spill down her face. “You’re breaking my heart, Rafael. Can’t you see my sincerity?”

The rawness in her eyes stabs me. But I force the feeling back. “I can only break your heart if you gave it to me in the first place, Emilia. But you haven’t, have you? If you had, you wouldn’t have been able to go through with your plans to betray me.”

With that, I bury whatever doubt I still feel in the deepest part of me. Then, rolling my eyes with derision, I continue. “The guys and I could have died tonight because of you.” The reminder fuels my anger, effectively snuffing out the rest of my emotions. “I should kill you for that. You know the consequence for breaking the omerta is death. But you’ve got me so tied up I can’t even do that. But don’t test me, Emilia. Your deceitful tears can’t fool me, and if I have to look at your face for a second longer, I’m not sure what I might do to you.”

She sobs, backing away from me like my words are weapons. Then she spins around and flees from my apartment.

I watch her go, heart tightening painfully in my chest as the door slams behind her.

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