Climbs in.
"Raffi?"
Mr. Pedretti was right. It's not good for Raffi's mental health to be so obsessed with this wardrobe. I follow him over and watch as he rubs his hands over the holes in the back, then looks at his fingers. They're blackened, just like mine were, though a little less dirty.
"Do you need your handkerchief back?" I ask as he climbs back out.
I'm not sure I like the light in his eyes when he looks at me. "Thesearen'tknots in the wood, D," he says softly, and then he looks around, as though someone might overhear us. But we're alone. Of course, Julian Castellaniisprone to leaving bugs everywhere.
"Give me a hand—let's see if we can budge this thing together?" Raffi asks.
I sigh, but nod. "If you insist. But we need to be careful."
We put our shoulders to the wardrobe and shove with all our might. It rocks slightly but holds fast.
Breathless, I straighten up. "Only Chops Lollo could have moved this thing, and hestillwould have needed help. I swear it must weigh as much as a tank—or as much as Chops Lollo did himself."
The spark of revelation only gets brighter in Raffi's eyes. "You know," he says slowly, his gaze still fixed on the wardrobe, "maybe I've been looking at this all wrong. I've been paying attention to the stage instead of trying to check out what's going on in the wings."
My stomach drops. I know that look in his eye, the one that says he's on to something and won't give up until he's followed it to the bitter end. "Don Castellani already made his decision, Raffi. Maybe—maybe we need to be content with that?"
His eyes soften at once. "I don't expect you to be part of this, D. I don't want you involved if there's any danger. And…" He clears his throat, but when he goes on, his voice is rough. "You're thebest thing that's ever happened to me. I won't risk what we have. If you want me to drop it, I'll drop it."
Julian's words come back to me in a rush.Men like you and me. The ones who truly understand the value of deceit.
I resisted the implications at the time. Told myself that I know how to calm people. How to persuade them. How to tell them what they want to hear.
But what I have really learned during my time in hospitality is how tomanipulatepeople.
Do I really want to do that to Raffi? Manipulate him away from his pursuit of the truth? I want to keep him safe, but asking him to drop this would be another injury to that honor of his that he holds so dear, and I'm not sure he can take any more wounds to it without bleeding out.
"No. You're right," I tell him at last. "The truth is important. And we're partners. We'll find it together."
"This isn't your fight."
"Yes, it is." The words burst from me in a rush. "It's been my fight since the day Clemenza threatened my mother."
Raffi breaks into a smile and pulls me into his arms, clutching me close. I cling to him, breathing in his scent, savoring the warmth of his embrace.
Brave little butler boy. The words float unbidden into my mind, with Julian Castellani's mocking inflection.
But I push them away and focus on the safety of Raffi's arms.
After a long moment, Raffi releases me, though he keeps his hands on my arms. "I don't want you in danger, sweets. Buthaving you with me on this, on my side…" He trails off, then continues quietly, "Well, it means more to me than I can say. And if we can stop another unfair death, I think we have to try."
I nod. "So—what do you think happened?"
"I don't know yet. But I know that someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make those holes in the wardrobe look like natural knots in the wood, rather than what they really are."
Puzzled, I ask, "What are they?"
Raffi puts his lips very close to my ear and speaks so softly I have to strain to hear him. "Bullet holes."
CHAPTER 46
RAFFI
Darian's eyes go wide.
