Page 242 of Rosetti Family New York
I stare at the screen, the lines of deposits and names. The unspoken questions. The dark possibilities.
“I can’t go up to my best friend’s grieving brother and accuse him of this,” I yell, my voice echoing off the oil paintings. “He’s the only friend I have left in the world. And he’s just lost his fucking sister.”
The room is too hot. The air is too thick. I stand and back away, away from the numbers, from the secrets, from the things I never wanted to know.
"Okay," Rafaele says, his voice steady, a rock against my tide of panic. "So we’ll visit Ethan instead."
Emilio nods, already planning, strategizing. I watch them. I see how driven they are, how determined. How convinced. But I still have no answers.
"I have to get out of here," I say, and the words are barely a whisper.
I leave the study, but it follows me.
The weight of it.
The fear of what it means.
The dread that I never knew her.
26
Rafaele
The basement storage room at Il Lusso is lined with blood and bullets. Maybe not literally, but it's seen its share. It's a bad idea to be down here alone with me, and I think Carter knows it. Sloane looks like she did the time I pushed her up against the one-way glass, like she doesn't trust me to keep it under control. She's half-excited, half-terrified. It's nothing new, but she still doesn't get that the part of me she's afraid of is the part she owns.
"They don't keep bodies down here, do they?" Her voice is casual, but I see the edge beneath it.
"Not since last Tuesday." Her eyes go wide, then she catches the smirk on my face and punches my shoulder. "Rafe." Her smile is equal parts relief and warning.
I fold my arms, lean against the wall, and take in the sight of her. She stands with her arms crossed, her posture stiff and wary. She wears a tight black tank top and a maxi skirt, her dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. The smattering of freckles across her nose dances as her eyes flicker around theroom, taking in the cement walls and floor, the gunmetal gray lockers and the single bench seat.
"You'll get the truth you want," I say. "Tonight." I see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, but she doesn't waver.
"Think Reyes will talk?" I give her a long, deliberate look, letting the question hang in the charged air between us. "Think he'll have a choice?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I lean back against the cool brick wall.
Her grin flashes across her face, quick as lightning, before it vanishes, replaced by a more serious expression. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed over her chest. "This isn't a game," she says, her voice softening like a whisper on the wind. "What if… What if I don't want to know?"
"Then you wouldn't be here," I reply. She watches me intently, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to see beneath my skin, searching for any sign of weakness, expecting me to falter.
"I don't know, Rafe," she finally says, her tone laced with uncertainty. "You're taking a big risk, bringing me here. I might crack."
"Cracking is the plan, Carter." We fall into a momentary silence, the distant sounds of Il Lusso seeping through the walls, a bass beat thumping like a heartbeat, a faint laugh echoing, a muffled shout piercing the quiet. Then she straightens her shoulders, lifting her chin with newfound resolve.
"Why couldn't we just talk to him back at the house?" she asks, her eyes locking onto mine. I meet her gaze, my answer as hard and unyielding as steel. "Because Ethan is more scared of the Callahans than he is of you," I say, my voice carrying the weight of the truth.
She has that soft touch, the kind that slips under your skin and digs its claws in, the kind that turns my world upside down every time she so much as glances my way.
"Bad idea to be down here alone with you," she says, her smile teasing and dangerous, sending my mind into a tailspin. "Thought you liked bad ideas," I say as I push away from the wall, stepping closer to her. Her green eyes catch the low light, and my blood turns to fire. My breath hitches, and I feel the heat rising in my chest.
"Better watch out, Rafaele. Or I'll crack you too." She draws my name out, teasing, a smirk playing on her lips as she leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Like you haven't already," I retort.
"Maybe I'll run. Maybe I'll save myself." She shifts her weight, eyes daring me to react. I growl and step close, the space between us charged, electric. My hand brushes against hers, igniting a spark. "Think I'll let you?" I murmur, inches from her face, my voice low and steady.
I see the defiance in her eyes, the reckless daring that drives me nuts. Her chin lifts, challenging me with silent strength. "How long is this going to take?" she asks, tapping her foot impatiently. I pull away, laugh low in my throat as I pace slowly, letting the tension build. "You in a hurry?" I ask over my shoulder, glancing back at her.
"A little," she admits. "You'll have to be patient," I say, crossing my arms. "Yeah?" She arches an eyebrow.
"Leo might have found a way to get in a few good punches first," I say, watching her reaction closely. Her eyes narrow slightly. "Is that the plan? Letting your brother soften him up?"
