And when I head to my room for a moment alone, it only gets worse. When I open the door, he's there, and I stop dead, my breath seizing in my lungs.
Raffi is there, his duffel bag open on the bed as he methodically packs away his clothes. The clothes he moved into my room just days ago, when the need to protect me outweighed all else for him.
"What are you doing?" I manage, hating the tremor in my voice.
He looks tired as he glances up at me, the warm smile he usually gives just a ghost of itself. "Well, parley's over," he points out, stuffing his shirts into the bag haphazardly. Like he can't wait to be done. "Lockdown's lifted. Figured it was time I moved back to my place."
He's leaving. Pulling away. Just as I feared.
And it's my fault. My imperfections, my flaws that have driven him to this. I've failed him at every turn.
He comes over and takes my hand. "Please understand, D. I just need a little space to figure some stuff out in my own mind. I'm not saying you and I are…" He trails off. "I just need a little space," he repeats.
He squeezes my hand and returns to packing.
"I think—" I swallow down hard on the lump in my throat. "I think we should end this, Raffi. Whatever this is between us."
He stills, a shirt dangling forgotten from his hands as his eyes snap to mine. "What?"
I force myself to go on, despite the anguish clawing at my chest. "I can't be what you need. What you want. I'll never be that perfect, flawless boyfriend you're looking for. The one who never makes mistakes."
Anger sparks in his expression, hot and bright. "What in the hell are you talking about? That's not what I want, D! I never asked you to be?—"
"But you deserve it," I interrupt. "You deserve someone—someone honest. Someone worthy of your trust. And that's not me, I proved that to you during this parley."
"You're not making sense!" he says, throwing up his hands. "And you don't get to decide what I want. How I feel about you. That's not how this works!"
"You hate lying," I tell him. "And now I've madeyoua liar, too."
"Iprotectedyou. From the second I gave you that alibi, that's what this has been about. Protecting you."
"But I never asked you to do that." I'm almost shocked at how cold I sound.
He recoils as if I've slapped him. Hurt floods across his face, so raw it steals my breath. He grabs his bag and stalks past me. At the door, he pauses, glancing back at me.
"You want to break up with me, fine," he spits. "But I told you I would keep your secrets. Protect you. And I fucking meant it, even if…" He looks away, blinking hard. "No matter how hard you push me away, D, I'm not going to throw you to the wolves. Remember that."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone in a suite that suddenly feels vast and empty instead of luxuriously spacious.
But I had to do it. Raffi talks so much about protectingme, he doesn't seem to realize what a precarious position he's put himself in. The sight of Chops Lollo dead on the floor—and then those soft threats from Sonny Vegas today, and Don Castellani's ruthless face—they reminded me, again, who it is I work for.
The men in this Family expect unquestioning loyalty. But Raffi put me before them. If the Castellanis found out he'd lied to them…well, I'm terrified to think about what they might do.
I trust Raffi to keep my secrets. Just like I'll keep his, protecting him from a threat he doesn't seem to see.
CHAPTER 34
RAFFI
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
A monthafter the Bernardi barbarians finally left Redwood Manor, the house is just about as silent as the grave. My own heavy footsteps are the only noise as I make my final rounds this morning, listening for any disturbance in the tomb-like stillness.
There's nothing. Not a peep.
In the weeks since the parley, there have been other problems—problems above my pay grade, or maybe the Boss just didn't think I could handle them. Jack and Julian seem pretty involved, and I've heard Pedretti's name dropped in conjunction with the Esposito Family a few times in hushed conversations. I asked the Boss once when Pedretti'd be back and he muttered something about a vacation.
A vacation? Max Pedretti?
