Chapter twenty nine
Rafaello’s POV
I slipped out of bed like a thief afraid to wake an angel. Alora slept so peacefully it made my chest tighten, like the world had finally stopped spinning just for her. Morning light painted her face in gold, and for a second, I almost forgot who I was. Almost.
I moved quietly, locking the door behind me before heading downstairs. The house hummed with quiet discipline. My men moved like shadows, pretending not to stare. Pity. Curiosity. Maybe fear. In this world, weakness was blood in the water.
When I walked into the dining room, Santino was already there, seated and chewing like he owned the place.
How the hell was he here this early?
“Did you finally decide to move in?” I half asked, half joked. That made him stop mid-bite. I’d suggested a dozen times that he move in, especially with how dangerous the mafia was getting, but he was too damn stubborn, always claiming he’d manage just fine.
“Nice to see you breathing, boss. Your wife nearly declared war on us,” he shot back, dropping his sandwich.
“May I know why you’re here this early, if you’re so terrified of my wife?” I asked, grabbing a seat.
“For starters, Maria cooks great. And come on, who turns down free food?” he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes. Of course her meals were amazing, but that wasn’t reason enough.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said flatly.
“See why we can’t live together? You’d turn every damn breakfast into an interrogation,” he hissed.
“Fine. After this, we’ve got a lot to discuss.”
Maria came in with a tray of food. “Will Alora be joining you both?” she asked, setting my breakfast in front of me.
“No. She needs to rest. I don’t want anyone waking her up,” I said my tone firm.
She nodded gently before walking away.
“I didn’t know you could be that protective over a woman, bro,” Santino taunted. Of course he had to say something. The man had a problem keeping his mouth shut. But that’s what made him my right hand. Loyal, loud, and annoyingly honest.
“She needs her rest,” I said simply, sipping my coffee.
The clink of silverware echoed in the room like a countdown. Every calm moment felt like a setup for chaos. I watched Santino eat and wondered if this was what peace looked like, two killers pretending to be human over eggs and coffee. Maybe I envied that illusion.
The rest of the meal passed in silence. When we finished, Maria cleared the table as we made our way to my office.
The scent of paper, ink, and stale coffee greeted me like an old friend. A pile of files sat on my desk, Santino’s work. That was life in the mafia. No rest days, no weakness. Paperwork was the polite version of killing, cleaner, quieter, but just as necessary.
“It’s good to see you’re okay,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
“See? Who’s getting sentimental over me now?” I shot back, smirking.
“I’m just glad. I didn’t want to be the one to deal with your old man,” he replied.
I chuckled under my breath, but deep down, I knew he meant it. Santino wasn’t built for sweet words; his loyalty spoke louder than any apology could.
Speaking of my grandfather, I knew he’d already left. The man never showed concern unless it served him. His love was transactional, his affection conditional. That’s what power did to people.
“You need to fill me in on what’s been going on. Also, why was Tanya here yesterday claiming she’d been taking care of me while Alora was out partying at Vescari’s?” I asked, flipping through the disorganized paperwork.
“What? That slut was here?” His voice was pure mockery.
“Yes. Sitting right beside my bed, acting like a damn martyr. Hell, I didn’t know women could fake exhaustion that well,” I muttered.
“That bitch left you to die after your grandfather walked out. She couldn’t even take off your blood-stained shirt,” he spat.
My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Tanya, that snake, pretending to care while I bled out like roadkill. I’d misread her, and that burned more than the bullet ever did.
“If not for Alora, man, you’d be dead. That woman has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“I know she’s been kind. I need to repay her somehow.”
“There’s nothing you could ever give her to repay what she’s done. You know she threatened Gibson, right?”
“What?” I looked up, brows raised. My little kitten did what now?
“She took my gun and pointed it at Gibson’s head, made him anesthetize you while stitching you up because she thought you were in too much pain. The best part? She didn’t even know how to use the damn thing,” Santino said, laughing.
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
It wasn’t uncommon to be stitched without anesthesia. It hurt like hell, but the pain made victory worth it. Yet here was someone losing her mind over me. Someone who actually cared about a man who’d spilled blood without remorse. I didn’t deserve that. Not even close.
“Maybe I should teach her how to shoot,” I muttered after a moment. “If she’s gonna aim at people for me, she might as well learn to hit the target.”
Santino barked a laugh. “You should. You’re a lucky bastard to have her. Don’t fuck this up, or we’re gonna have a problem.”
“I’ll see what I can do. You know I never make promises,” I replied coolly.
“You should go rest. I’ll handle everything and send you the full report,” he said, already opening the laptop on his lap.
I nodded and got up to leave.
I left the room, but her face stayed with me, those wild eyes, trembling hands, and the kind of courage you don’t learn; you’re just born with. For the first time in years, I wasn’t sure who was protecting who anymore.