Or do I keep quiet?
CHAPTER 33
DARIAN
The door clicks shutbehind Raffi as he returns to my suite, his expression grave. My heart clenches at the disappointment in his eyes as I stare up at him from the sofa.
I caused that. My secrets, my lies. They've strained the bond between us, threatening to shatter something precious before it even has a chance to fully form.
"Raffi, I'm so?—"
He holds up a hand. "I'm gonna keep your secret, Darian," Raffi says softly. "But we can't talk about it anymore, not here at Redwood. You get me? If someone overheard—" He breaks off, eyes full of meaning.
I nod miserably, my throat too tight to speak. "I won't ever lie again," I tell him at last.
Raffi steps closer, his eyes searching mine intently. "Promise me, Darian. Promise you won't ever lie to me again. About anything. I can handle the truth, whatever it is. But I can't take lies, not from you."
"I promise," I whisper, my voice cracking on the vow. "I'm so sorry, Raffi. I never meant to hurt you. To make you doubt me."
He reaches out, his fingers grazing my cheek with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. "I know. And promises matter to me. Your word matters. Remember that." He lets out a long, shaky sigh. "Sonny Vegas arrived, by the way," he says in a louder, more normal tone. "The Bernardis are back at the negotiating table."
I get to my feet, trying to keep my legs steady. "I should arrange coffee…refreshments…"
"I'll call a guard down to escort you around. I need to take a shower, clear my head."
He doesn't wait for my reply, just hits his earpiece and calls down the closest available man. And then he turns and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.
The distance between us is a chasm I don't know how to bridge. I think about it as I serve coffee, refill water glasses, and try not to look at any of the Bernardi men.
It's difficultnotto look at Sonny Vegas, though. He's a showman, likes to have attention on him, and every time I hear him speak it's in the same sort of cadence as a comedy routine, even if he's not being intentionally funny.
I catch him in discussion with Sandro during a break as I bring in fresh coffee.
"Jack's not here today, huh?" Mr. Vegas says. "Pity. I was looking forward to catching up."
Sandro gives a chilly smile, and his eyes are stone-cold. "I will pass on your well-wishes."
"You do that. Yeah, you do that, Castellani. I thought he might have some message he wanted me to pass onto his family back home, you know? Happy to be the bearer, if so."
He sounds perfectly pleasant. But I know a threat when I hear one.
Sandro's eyes switch to me as I pause in my work, and I hear his silent order as loudly as if he'd shouted it. I back out of the room, fast, as Sandro leans in to speak to his guest in a soft, warning undertone.
I can't take much more of this. Not with things the way they are with Raffi. I haven't seen him all night, and I've been shadowed by a rotating cast of guards as I move around Redwood.
But I don't have to take much more, because just before midnight, the two factions seem to have reached an agreement. And before I can even ask Don Castellani if I should ask Chef to prepare a celebratory dinner for tomorrow, both sides have announced their intended departure, as well.
Roxanne Rochford is particularly unsubtle about wanting to get away. "No, thank God," she says to me, when I check on her to see if she needs help packing. "I've been ready to go forages. My agent was just about ready to murder me. Oh—I guess that's a little insensitive." She gives a rueful laugh, and I leave her as quickly as I can.
No one wants to hang around longer than they have to, and I'm intensely relieved about it. Now, maybe, Raffi and I can really hash things out tonight, without worrying about being overheard.
Don Castellani and Sonny Vegas see the rival factions off with handshakes and cordial words that bely the simmering tensionslingering beneath the surface, and then Sonny disappears into a limousine again, headed for the airport. I watch from the foyer, my mind far from the machinations of mafia politics.
All I can think about is Raffi. The way he looked at me when I told him about my mother. The disappointment when he realized I'd lied to him.
He says he'll keep my secret. But that doesn't mean he'll keep wanting me.
A fear that this will be the wedge between us that drives him away grips me hard, and won't let go. The fear that I'll lose him before I ever truly had him.
