“You’d know if you’d bothered to show up when I asked for you two nights ago,” Salvatore interjects. “What the hell were you doing that was so important?”
“Personal shit,” I murmur in reply, the mention of that night burning in my chest.
“Care to expand on that?”
“Nope.”
He exhales deeply, dark eyes hard and unrelenting, “I sent Elio to Mexico. To handle your shit. The Navarro deal you were overseeing went sideways. Some of our men died.”
Anger sears through me, bright and hot, “You meanmymen. What the fuck happened? It was meant to be a simple exchange.”
“That’s what we sent Elio to find out.”
I jump to my feet, seeing red, “I can find out right now. I know where Navarro fucking lives.”
“Sit down, Rafaelle,” Matteo states. “Elio already sent word. It was an accident.”
“Like hell it was,” I hiss. “Why the fuck did Elio go?”
“Because you weren’t fucking here and I can’t very well go to Mexico with a heavily pregnant girlfriend at home,” he snaps.
“Navarro’s a piece of shit and he has it in for us. This was all his plan to fuck with us.”
“There was a police raid,” Matteo is saying but I can barely hear him over the knot of anger stretching in my chest. I hate losing men. They had families to get back to and now they’re dead. I know there’s casualties in war but this wasn’t supposed to be a fucking war!
“Navarro lost men same as us. This shit’s already costing him a lot to smooth over down there. No need for your hot head to go looking for him and make things worse.”
My jaw clenches, “I don’t trust him. He could have sent the cops there in the first place. I smell bullshit and I’m going to make sure he pays.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Salvatore grits out. “You already lost your chance to do anything about this issue. We’re goingto have to let it blow over. I hope whatever distracted you was worth it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sal,” I growl.
His eyes narrow while Matteo takes a step towards me, face twisting in anger.
“Watch how you speak to the Don, Rafaelle,” he instructs.
“Fuck you both!” I say, getting to my feet.
The glass in my hand falls to the ground, shattering on impact. I stare at the fragments of glass shimmering in the spilled liquid, needing something to center myself. But I can’t help thinking about the men I sent to Mexico. They put their trust in me and I let them down.
Most of all I feel guilty. Salvatore’s right. I should have been here that night. I ignored his summons to stay with her and now I’m reaping the consequences. If I’d been here, I could have hunted down the truth in Mexico. By now Navarro’s probably buried the entire shit. Which means he won’t pay for what he’s done.
“Rafaelle!” Matteo yells when I start to walk out of the room.
“Let him go,” Salvatore says calmly. “You will return when you’ve calmed down, Rafaelle. And mark my words, if you do anything to Navarro, I will make sure you fucking regret it. Do you understand?”
I don’t reply nor look back already walking out the door. The urge to punch something fills me but I also don’t want to make a scene where my sister in law or anyone else could walk in and see me. I head downstairs and my guards immediately gather around me, although they’re a couple cautious steps back, probably reading the expression on my face, astutely. Some of them have ended up with broken noses or ribs when I’m pissed off.
“Keys!” I snap, holding out my hand.
I’m immediately handed the keys to the Lexus. I practically rip open the door, climbing in and inhaling softly before starting the ignition. I’m off before they get the chance to follow.
What’s making me feel worse is that I know exactly where I want to go. I want to drive straight to that bar where I met Liliana. I want her in the car with me and I want her in my bed again. The night we spent together was restorative in a way I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. It wasn’t just about the sex, it was about her.
I know without a doubt, seeing her face would immediately quiet all the shit running through my head. But seeing her like this would undoubtedly scare her. And I don’t even want to fucking see her at all.
So instead of going to the bar, I set a course for home, driving through the city at a speed that breaks several limits and more. The engine of the car roars beneath me, tires screeching against the road as I cut between lanes without hesitation. Horns blare behind me and brakes scream.
