Page 96 of Ruthless Guardian

“Didn’t you think that was an important detail to divulge the other night?”

“No,” he grits out. “Because I never thought you would get caught up in my mess. A mess I thought I escaped years ago.”

“You have to tell me the truth now, Raf. How can this thing between us ever work if you’re keeping secrets? We have enough hurdles to overcome as it is.”

His head dips, and his fingers lace through mine as he tugs me from the vanity. “Fine, but not now. We have to get to the memorial, unless you’ve changed your mind?”

I slowly shake my head. Even if Carlo’s death is indirectly my fault, I still played a role in his demise. After all, Raf was here at my insistence. He warned me he didn’t want to come to Rome, but I’d insisted anyway. Because the spoiled mafia princess always gets what she wants.

“We’ll talk in the car then.” Raf takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom.

I follow him through the apartment then out to the street where Sal awaits in the Alfa. I’m so relieved he chose the smaller, more inconspicuous vehicle today instead of the flashy limo. Anticipation rolls through me, growing with each step closer until we slide into the back seat and our driver closes the door behind us.

As soon as the engine rumbles to life, Raf slides to the edge of the seat. “Salvatore, play some music, something upbeat.”

“Certainly,signore.”

The loud music fills the car, and my guardian settles in beside me once more. Clearly, he doesn’t want Sal listening to his confession. He remains silent next to me for a long minute, his knee jostling mine as his foot taps out a manic beat.

I slap my hand on his thigh, halting the erratic bouncing. “Just tell me.”

He draws in a slow breath before pivoting his body toward mine, wary eyes following suit. “I never wanted you to know…”

“Know what?”

“How badly I failed my first client.”

CHAPTER 47

A HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE

Raffaele

Ten years and I still can’t quite seem to find the words. Probably because I’ve never spoken them aloud in all this time. A part of me believed that if the truth never surfaced, I could pretend it was all simply a horrible nightmare.

“Your first client?” Isa whispers.

And just like that, the corners of my vision darken, and the back seat of the car disappears before another scene coalesces in its place.

I’m standing in a palatial suite at the Grand Hotel Flora, shirking a biting glare razed in my direction. Enrico Sartori. He sits atop a high-backed chair, a veritable throne of gilded mahogany and ornate tapestry. Before meeting theCapo dei Capi, the head of all the mob bosses across Italy, I thought my father was intimidating. The man lances a lethal gaze in my direction, the contempt in his eyes so palpable it has me, a full-grown man at twenty almost shitting myself.

A pair of warm chocolate doe eyes meet mine from across the room, and I force my shoulders back. You’re a man, damn it, Raffa, act like one, for her. Holding her hopeful gaze, I take comfort in her strength. Laura. My love. She’s the one who bears the ultimate burden in this situation. I’m just the idiot that got her pregnant. And here I am trying my best to take responsibility for my actions.

But Enrico Sartori obviously has other plans for me.

He clears his throat before beckoning me forward with one long finger. I creep closer, forcing my spine to stiffen. We had agreed that today would be the day Laura would tell her father the truth. I waited outside at her insistence, but now it’s my turn to face Enrico’s wrath.

“Raffaele Ferrara,” he mutters my name like a curse. “You are the son of Alfredo Ferrara, are you not?”

I nod. “Si, signore.”

“And I understand you work for the Gruppo di Intervento Speciale.”

“Yes, for two years now.” I joined the elite group specializing in counter-terrorism, hostage rescue, and anti-terrorism operations both within Italy and internationally straight out of high school. Even then, it had been clear wherePapà’s operations were headed, and I wanted no part of it.

“I see.” His fingers drum the lavish chair arm, matching the rhythm of my escalating pulse. “And yet, somehow despite that tremendous responsibility, you managed to fuck my daughter enough to get her pregnant.”

I bristle, heat warming my cheeks. “I love Laura,” I mutter before saying it again, more forcefully this time. “I want to marry her and raise this child together.”

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