“Liar. I’m in great fucking shape, as always.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m about to get my head blown off, and you’re still giving me shit.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Cry?”
“Fuck, no. I have a feeling you’re an ugly crier. I don’t need to see that in my last hour on earth.”
We exchange jabs and talk shit for most of the drive to Ferraro’s penthouse. Under normal circumstances, Rafe probably wouldhave told me to shut up a long time ago, but I get the sense he’s trying to keep my mind off what’s about to happen.
I feel some comfort in the fact that he’ll be there with me right up until the end.
Inside, the concierge has to call to see if Ferraro will let us up. Rafe provides him with a fake name for me—the name of his new underboss, Alec Puglisi. A minute later, the concierge gives us the go-ahead.
“How’s that working out?” I ask as we walk through the lobby.
Rafe stops in front of the elevator. “Alec? It was an adjustment at first.”
“And now?”
He gives me a look. I’m fishing, and he knows it. I’m like a needy divorcée who wants him to tell me that no one could ever replace me.
But by the looks of it, Rafe’s doing just fine. He adapted, the way any don worth his salt would.
We step into the elevator.
Did I imagine my departure would be a real hit to his organization? In my worst moments back in Darkwater Hollow, before I moved in next door to Blake, I indulged myself in fantasies of how Rafe would slowly lose his grip on his kingdom without me by his side.
I thought I was important. And maybe I was for a time.
But everyone is replaceable.
I’ve always known this. I guess it only really sinks in when it happens to you.
The doors slide open, revealing a large fountain in the foyer. A moment later, a member of Ferraro’s house staff comes out to greet us.
“Gino is expecting us,” Rafaele says.
“I was told it was you, Mr. Messero, and Mr. Puglisi…” The older man trails off, his eyes thinning as he takes me in.
“Change of plans,” Rafe says.
“I’ll have to ask for your weapons.”
Rafe and I hand him our guns.
The man leads us into the living room and offers us a seat, but neither Rafe nor I take one. The air buzzes with anxious energy, and the blood inside my veins feels thick and heavy. This must be what it feels like to walk the plank. To see your death just steps away and know nothing but an act of God can stop it.
Gino Ferraro enters the room.
To his credit, his shock is nearly imperceptible as it passes across his features. Maybe he never fully believed that charred body was mine.
Rafe takes a few steps forward. I wonder if he realizes he’s put himself in front of me. “We need to talk.”
Gino nods. “I can see that. Let’s go into my office.”
We nearly make it there when his wife, Vita, comes out of a room.
