Today isthe first meeting Mr. DeLuca and I will have to discuss parley arrangements, and I'm determined to keep him in line. He mightactas though he's significantly more experienced than I am, but he's only one year older than me, and I refuse to pretend that he's my superior in any way.
I enter the security room laden with reports, handouts, and my laptop with a PowerPoint presentation ready to go. I've spent hours preparing for this meeting about the parley arrangements, determined to make Raffi DeLuca understand the critical importance of etiquette and hospitality.
I expect resistance, condescension, even outright dismissal.
What I don't expect is the slow, appreciative smirk that spreads across Raffi's face when he sees what I'm holding. He leans back in his chair, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. "You guys can get out," he says to the other guards in the room, and they go.
"Mr. DeLuca," I begin. "As we begin working on this event together, I want to make sure you understand the vital need for smooth social engagements during the parley."
"Looks like you came ready to help me understand," he says, as I hand him my first report on seating suggestions for the negotiation room. "But you can relax, D. I'll take your word for it on all that stuff. You're the expert on it, not me."
I blink at him, thrown off balance by his easy acquiescence. "I…well…thank you, Mr. DeLuca. I appreciate your confidence in my abilities. Shall we start with the social events? I was thinking we could begin with an opening night soiree, to set a convivial tone for the weekend."
Raffi leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he regards me with interest. "Makes sense. Get everyone in a good mood right off the bat. What did you have in mind?"
I pull out my notes, my confidence growing as I outline my vision. "I thought we could invite the significant others of the attendees. Wives, girlfriends, partners. It would create a more relaxed, festive atmosphere. Show that they're all here in good faith."
I brace myself for his objection, certain he'll veto the idea on security grounds. But to my surprise, Raffi nods with approval. "That's not bad, D. You got that emotional intelligence thing going on, huh? Impressive."
I duck my head, hoping he can't see the flush that heats my cheeks. "Thank you. I'm glad we can work together so collegiately. I have to admit, I thought you might try to—to boss me around."
Raffi throws his head back and laughs, the rich sound sending a jolt through my veins. I like his laugh—when it's not directed at me. "Bossyouaround? Please. You're way too stubborn for that."
I'm so taken aback that I simply clear my throat and go on with my plans. Raffi is mostly accommodating, and the objections he has all seem fair. I can compromise on some of them, at least.
And I find myself actually enjoying his company.
When we've both relaxed a little, Raffi's expression shifts a little, turning serious as he leans closer. "So listen…since we're making friends and all, can I ask you something?"
"I suppose so?"
"Why did you decide to work here? At Redwood? Given…" He trails off, but I know what he's getting at.
Given that the Castellanis are a notorious crime Family. Given the danger, the darkness that lurks beneath the glittering surface of this world.
I can't tell him it was mostly to annoyhim. That expression on his face behind Julian Castellani at the Bellamy Grand, the way he kept warning me off—it only made me want it more. But that wasn't the only reason, of course.
"Honestly?" I say at last. "It was the money."
"Oh." He sounds surprised. Disappointed.
"I mean—not for me, but—well, partly for me, but—" I break off, swallowing. "I have plans of my own. Ambitions. But what really swayed me to take this role was that I wanted to take care of my mother. She's worked so hard her whole life, and I just wanted to give her something back."
Raffi nods, his smile returning as his face softens with understanding. "I get that. My mom, she passed a few yearsback, but I used to work my ass off to make sure she had everything she needed."
"I'm sorry for your loss. That must have been very difficult for you."
He shrugs. "Wasn't much fun. I still got my brothers and sisters, but they're busy with their own lives. Don't seem them much."
I feel a sudden urge to offer comfort, connection. But Raffi almost seems to sense it, leaning back a little, arms folding over his chest again.
"And what about you?" I ask, to change the subject. "Why did you join the Castellanis? If you don't mind me asking."
He takes a moment before he speaks, and when he does, his words are slow. Careful. "When I was a kid, my father was caught up in PacSyn. He wasn't around much, then he got killed in some…turf war? I don't even know. But around my neighborhood, there was this guy. Everyone knew him. He took care of things, you know? You had a problem, he could help you out. Later on I found out he was a Castellani from way back, retired out after he lost a hand. But he's the one who looked out for my mom and us kids when my dad couldn't. I thought he seemed like a decent guy, and he still had Castellani connections. You can figure it out from there, I guess."
"You…wanted to be like him?"
Raffi shrugs, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Yeah, I guess I did. A lot of the kids I grew up with, they were poor. Struggling. The cops, they used to come around, hassle them for no reason. I tried to stick up for them, keep them out of trouble." His hands clench into fists on the table, and looks at me as though wanting permission to open up. I nod encouragement. "One time theywere chasing this kid—he was only ten. Hadn't done anything wrong, but the cops had it out for him because of who his family was. He ran into this construction site to hide, but…there was an accident. He died."
