It takes three hours to bury the bodies and get the warehouses cleaned up. In the meantime, Nero, Doc, and Emanuele take Michael Ferraro to the hospital for treatment so he’ll have the best chance of making it out of this alive.
I’m nearly home when I get the call from Nero.
I pick up. “Speak.”
“He’s dead.”
My heart freezes mid-beat. Just our fucking luck. Why is it that some assholes are seemingly impossible to kill, but this kid goes down with one damn bullet? I rub my forehead with the heel of my palm. This is bad.
“Get out of there right now and go somewhere safe.”
“Doc is still with me.”
“Ask him if he’s willing to stay until Ferraro’s men come. I’ll call Ferraro and explain the situation.”
A beat passes. “Rafe, he’ll want me.”
I clench my jaw. Ferraro will demand vengeance. There’s no doubt about that. “I know. Let me talk to Gino. Where’s Emanuele?”
“With his cousin. Saying his goodbyes.”
“Leave now. Destroy your phone. Next time you call me, use a burner.”
Nero lets out a heavy sigh. “Will do.”
I park the car outside the house and go straight to my office, my mind running over my limited options.
Can I deny Nero shot him? Impossible. There’s a witness. We should have killed Emanuele earlier and claimed both of them died in the gunfire. I sink into my chair and drag my hand down my face. I might have thought of that on the spot if I’d been in control of myself instead of flailing like an idiot and losing my mind over my wife.
It’s too late now. Emanuele’s probably already told Gino what happened. The only thing I can do is fucking pray Gino will forgive Nero for making an honest mistake.
Gino picks up my call right away. “My nephew is dead, killed by your consigliere, after I went out on a limb and sent him over to help you.” The anger in his voice is palpable.
“Gino, it was an accident. Nero didn’t know your guys were coming. I didn’t have time to call.”
“Your incompetence is not my fucking problem.” His voice booms over the speaker. “If you weren’t in control of the situation, you shouldn’t have asked for my fucking help.”
He’s right. He’s fucking right. In retrospect, I can’t believe the reckless stupidity of my actions. It was pure desperation. Devoid of logic and reason.
“Truly, I’m sorry.”
“Fuck your sorry. You think that sorry is going to matter to Michael’s mother? And do you even realize how this makes me look? I agreed to help you as a gesture of good faith. I thought we really had a chance to put the feud between our families behind us once and for all. There’s only one way to make this right, and you fucking know it.”
My blood runs cold.
“I want to see Nero’s body by tomorrow morning. If you’re not man enough to kill him, I’ll do it myself.”
I get up and walk over to the bar. “Look, let’s not overreact. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Rafaele.”
I splash some whiskey into a glass. My hands are shaking. “Let me compensate you for your loss. How much would fix this?”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Territory then. I’ll give you my assets in Manhattan. You can run them as you wish.”
“This isn’t about that,” Gino snaps. “This is about you learning a lesson I would have thought you learned a long time ago. You don’t put another don’s men at risk like this. I won’t ever work with you if you don’t make this right, do you understand?”
The alcohol burns my throat. I want to roar in frustration. I can’t risk a war with the Ferraros when I’m still trying to get a handle on Garzolo’s family and trying to fight back the Bratva. My resources are spread thin. There’s a good chance they’d squash us. How the fuck did I allow this to happen?
“Nero’s gone,” I grind out. “It’ll take me longer than that to find him.”
“You can find him, or I will. And trust me when I say his death will be far quicker if you do it.”
“Gi—”
He hangs up.
I stare at the phone screen for a few seconds before I throw my glass across the room. It hits a bookshelf and shatters. Next goes the paperweight, straight through the mirror. Then I shove every piece of crap I’ve got on my desk onto the floor. Papers fly everywhere, but it doesn’t help. Nothing fucking helps.
“Fuck!”
Nero. He wants Nero.
My consigliere. My friend. The man who’s stood by my side since we were kids. The man who’s put his life on the line for me whenever I’ve asked him to do it, doing whatever I’ve fucking asked of him. The man who’s been unfailingly loyal to me. And in my moment of weakness, I set him up. I did him fucking dirty.
The door to my office opens, and Cleo appears.
“Get out,” I growl.
She pauses, her hand on the door handle, but then her lips firm into a line, and she steps inside. “No.”
I glare at her, feeling like all of my organs are shriveling up. “Not now, Cleo.”
She ignores my warning. She casts her gaze around the mess inside my office, her brows pinching in concern. “We need to talk.”
I don’t have time to talk. I’ve got the most powerful don in New York waiting for me to deliver the body of my consigliere to his doorstep.
This woman is my ruin. And she doesn’t even realize it.
She approaches the desk, her expression worried. “Rafe, I’m so sorry. I know what I did was stupid, but when I thought Gemma was in trouble… I just wasn’t thinking. I thought something had happened to her or the baby. I just…” Her eyes well up with tears. “I panicked.”
“Why didn’t you call me first?” I demand. This could have been avoided if she hadn’t taken her father’s bait. If she’d just fucking used her brain.
Funny how the exact same criticism can be thrown right back at me. I wasn’t thinking when I called Ferraro. And now my consigliere has to pay for my mistake. Rage pulses inside my chest. I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now.
She’s done this to me. Made me into someone not worth the responsibility I’ve been given. Made me into a weak, impulsive, emotional man.
This can’t go on.
I have to end this or everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve bled for, will burn to the ground at her feet. My heart shreds apart inside my chest.
“I promise this will never happen again,” Cleo says brokenly.
“You’re right.” I look past her at the broken mirror hanging on the wall, at my fractured reflection. “It won’t, because we’re over.”
There’s a beat.
“What?” Her voice is a harsh whisper.
“You wanted a divorce.” I look down at my desk, unable to look at her, unable to be near her. “Congratulations. You’re getting it.”
“What are you talking about? That was months ago. Things have changed. You know that.”
“I’ll get my lawyers on it.”
“We can work through this,” she pleads. “Come on, it was one mistake. We can make this right again. Don’t tell me you’d throw all of this away over one damn mistake!”
She doesn’t get it. My life was fine before I met her. Everything was steady. I could control my reality, bend it to my will, enact anything I wanted. And now? There’s only mayhem. The reins are slipping out of my hands, and she’s the one pulling on them.
“I cannot be the don I need to be with you around.” I manage to keep my voice free of emotion. “You need to leave.”
She rushes to me, her footsteps loud against the hardwood floor. She takes my arm. “Rafe, stop. You’re acting crazy.”
“You made me fucking crazy!” I roar, shaking her off. Our gazes clash. “Do you know how badly I fucked up when I thought you were about to be killed by your father? When I thought you were in danger, I couldn’t fucking think straight. I still can’t think straight with you around me.”
A broken sob escapes her, and a tear runs down her cheek. “I love you.”
I force myself not to look away. To take in this moment. I know I won’t ever hear those words again. I don’t fucking deserve them.
“That’s unfortunate,” I say harshly.
She sucks in a breath. “I know you love me too, damn it.”
“I don’t love anyone.” I step away from her.
“I know about your father! That he made you watch while he beat your mother. She told me.”
My stomach hollows out. Mamma told her?
Not everything. She’d never tell her everything.
“He was a sick man,” Cleo whispers.
If only she knew how sick.
“And he was wrong. Emotions don’t make you weak. Love doesn’t make you weak.”
Oh, but it does. Its roots penetrate through cracks, destroy walls, crumble strong foundations. I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I need to undo this.
“Was he wrong? I don’t think so. The only thing that’s wrong here is me and you.”
Her eyes widen with disbelief, as if my words don’t make any sense.
“Rafe—”
“You’ll leave with your sisters today. I want you out of this house. It’ll take me a few days to clean up the mess you caused and get the papers in order. I’ll mail them to you in Italy.”
“You can’t do this.” Cleo reaches for me again.
I tear my arm out of her grasp and move toward the door. “I’ve said everything I have to say.”
“Where are you going?” Her voice cracks, and God, how that hurts me.
“To figure out some way that today doesn’t end with my consigliere dead.”
“Why would he die?”
I halt. Slowly, I turn around to face her. “Because I called Gino Ferraro for help when I knew you were in trouble, but I didn’t have time to warn Nero. Nero shot one of Ferraro’s men by accident. The don’s nephew. He’s dead. Now, Ferraro wants Nero dead.”
Blood drains out of her face. “No, no, he—”
“Ferraro expects me to deliver Nero’s body in the next twelve hours. All because of you and your recklessness.”
Shame floods through me as soon as that sentence leaves my mouth. The truth is, it’s as much my fault as hers. No, it’s more. I am the don. My people are my responsibility, not hers. But I need her to leave. I need her out of my house, out of my mind, out of my heart. I need her gone.
“No. No.” She covers her mouth with her hands, tears cascading down her cheeks. “You can’t do it. Nero can’t die because of me. Rafe, please. Please tell me—”
I turn on my heel and leave. I can’t hear her voice anymore. Can’t look at her face. Not if I’m going to be able to do what needs to be done.
