Page 63 of Deceitful Oath

“And you’re some hermit, Unabomberesque sexy philanthropist CEO billionaire?”

The words tumble from her mouth like word vomit and she looks surprised at herself. I almost laugh at the description because nothing could be further from the truth. Although about half of that is just my public persona.

I’ve worked hard to scrub every inch of my mafia ties from the internet, leaving only what I want people to think. She clearly Googled me, which is cute.

“That’s quite a description,” I start, holding eye contact. “It’s half the truth.”

“I’m almost scared to ask about the other half,” she says glumly.

“I’m going to tell you something about myself that’ll explain a lot of what happened tonight, but I don’t want you to get scared,” I tell her. I gently pick up her hand and run my thumb over her knuckles. When she doesn’t pull away, I continue.

“The philanthropist billionaire bullshit you saw online is my public persona. It’s a cover…a front, you could say.”

“Are you a spy?” she breathes, her eyes almost hopeful. A spy wouldn’t be the worst-case scenario, I realize, but the mafia would be.

There’s no turning back now, Rafael. You made your bed. You can lie in it—alone.

“No, I’m part of the mafia,” I say as simply as possible and wait for her reaction. Her eyes widen and her lips part in shock. I can see confusion painted across her face, until it gives way to anger, then fear.

She snatches her hand out of mine and plasters herself against the passenger side door, trying to create distance between us.

“No, you’re not,” she breathes. I can almost hear her heart rate spike as she feels around for the door handle, ready to escape.

“Relax, Lux,” I say, using my most soothing voice. “The guy you met, the one you fell for, that was me. That was Rafael…just with a different job. I never lied to you about who I was inside, I promise.”

“Promise?” she stutters. “You think I’m going to trust your promises now? And why isn’t this goddamn door opening?”

She nearly screams the last part, desperately pulling the handle. Her breathing is getting faster as blood rushes to her cheeks, flushing them beautifully. If she wasn’t terrified and about to lose her mind, I’d kiss her.

“Safety lock,” I say, tapping the button. The car automatically unlocks and Lux’s door flies open with one last aggressive yank from her hand. She moves to unbuckle her seatbelt, but I can’t let her run.

“Wait, Lux, breathe,” I tell her, hoping she’ll relax. “I need to tell you about Mancini. Whether you choose to trust me or not, this is important.”

She freezes, halfway out of the car. Her shoulders shake slightly and I know she’s crying. I hop out of the car and jog over to her side, keeping a respectable distance between us. Tears flow down her face freely, but her eyes burn fiercely.

“What about him?” she finally grinds out.

“He’s part of the mafia, too,” I say, registering the lack of shock on her face. “But you’ve probably figured that out by now. He’s head of the rival family. The Velvet Room is his front. Lisa and Rob are his kids…in fact, a lot of your ex-coworkers are part of the family.”

Her shoulders sag and she wipes the tears off her cheeks with a sweatshirt sleeve. “And what does he want with me?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I originally thought you might be working for him, but I quickly realized you knew nothing. Although now that he knows about your connection to me, and you saw his cousin die, you’re definitely on his radar…and you’re not safe.”

A shock of recognition turns her expression dark, her mouth twisting in an ugly line. “That’s why you wanted me? You thought I was working for him? You thought I’d feed you information or something?”

“No,” I breathe out, but quickly realize this version of the events is probably kinder than the real deal, so I roll with it. “Well, yes. But Lux, then I fell for you for real. Hook, line, and sinker, I was a goner the second you smiled at me.”

She scoffs, slamming my door with force, and stalks away from me. I watch her carefully until she whips around and points her finger at me, ready to give me hell. Her face crumbles instead, and she breaks down in tears, sliding to the ground against a cement pillar.

I panic, never having seen anyone cry this hard—unless I was torturing them. Her entire body is shaking like she’s been dipped in freezing water and her breathing seems shallow.Fuck, she’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, fuck, fuck,I think, running to her side. I slide down beside her and pull her into my lap, circling her loosely with my arms. She shakes and sobs as I stroke her back lightly and whisper words of encouragement.

Finally, her body begins to go slack in my arms and her sobs transform into quiet hiccups. I keep rubbing her back, telling her that she’s safe and that I’ll never hurt her. As she relaxes, I start to worry that someone will see us like this, and it’ll make the front-page news.

That’s the last thing she needs right now.

“Listen, I know I just dropped a bomb on you, and you’re freaked out. You don’t have to trust me right now,” I assure her. “But don’t you think if I wanted to hurt you in some way, I’d have done it already?”

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