Page 108 of Rosetti Family New York
I turn to Dom, searching for a way to make this better. “I’m sure Rafe didn’t mean to betray the family.”
Dom snorts. “Of course he didn’t. He’s just being a hothead again, running his mouth off like he always does.”
He shakes his head, frustrated but confident, so sure of everything. I don’t want to be the one to shatter that.
I try one last time. "Maybe you should let him stay on the project, Dom. You know how he is. He needs to feel useful, part of things."
"No," Dom says, head shaking again. "Not until we get to the bottom of this leak."
He looks at me, and I see his suspicion of Rafe is complete. I did this. I watch him, my husband, the man I swore myself to in a deal my father made. I’m a traitor to him in every way. I wonder how he’s kept his faith in me so long.
I glance away in case he can see the guilt carved on my face. He moves closer and tugs my chair until our knees touch. "Hey. Are you all right?"
I nod. But I'm not. I don't know how to be his wife and a spy.
It's dark outside and even darker in here, our bedroom feeling more like a tomb than a home. The stars above New York glitter outside our window, but all I can see is the look on Rafe’s face when Sal accused him of betrayal. When Dom told him he was off the project.
The room is silent until the door clicks open and then closed. I hear the slide of Dom’s tie, a small sound but somehow more than I can stand. The lights are low, and so is the sick feeling in my stomach. My betrayal fills the room. The thought of it fills me, too, until it spills over as tears.
Dom finds me like that. Curled on the couch in our bedroom, a mess of tears. He crosses the room, so quiet, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter. When he kneels in front of me, his hand brushes my hair back, fingers gentle and slow, and I want to die with how kind he is.
"Besiana. What is it?"
I want to tell him everything. The words ache to come out, but the fear of losing him clamps them down again.
"Please." He pulls me into his arms and rocks me back and forth until my sobs turn to shivers. "Tell me."
His warmth is too much. I can’t stop the trembling.
"It’s—" I choke on the word, bury it in his shoulder.
"It's what, huh? Tell me."
When I don't answer, he just holds me tighter, resting his chin on my head, wrapping me in the kind of comfort that makes me feel like the worst person alive. I don’t deserve any of this. "I should never have taken you to the meeting."
"No." I finally find my voice. A little shard of it, anyway. "It’s not that."
"You've been through enough already. Your father—" He doesn’t finish the sentence, just tugs me even closer. "God, I’m sorry. I didn’t think."
I go still against him. Does he know? The blood roars in my ears, drowning out every thought except one: he knows. But when I look up, his expression is all concern, none of the betrayal I expect to see.
He wipes a tear from my cheek. "You don’t ever have to go through that again. Carmela told me how you never celebratedbirthdays. How you flinch at loud sounds. Never again, Besa. Never."
The rush of relief hits me so hard I almost start crying all over. "Dom—"
"I mean it, Besiana." His hands cup my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You’re not alone. You have me. You have all of us."
I don’t know what hurts worse. That he thinks I’m this upset about my father, or that I’m letting him think that. My head drops against his chest, and it feels like drowning. Like falling.
His voice is so quiet I barely hear it. "I’ll protect you."
"Promise?"
My whisper comes out raw, torn. He doesn’t know that I’m really asking him to protect me from his own family when they discover what I’ve done, but he doesn’t hesitate to agree.
"Of course I do."
His breath stirs my hair, and he sounds so sure, so steady, so damn loving that it breaks something deep inside me. I press my mouth to his shirt and nod, and the motion shatters me all over again. I can’t do this to him, can’t stand the weight of what I’m doing, but I can't stop either. My own selfish need for him won't let me.
