Page 81 of Of Oaths and Secrets

We’re greeted at the door by the housekeeper, and as we step inside, I’m surprised to see Leo standing near the entryway, leaning against the wall with a glass of whiskey in his hand. I wasn’t expecting him to be here, and from the look on his face, he’s not exactly thrilled either. I glance at Rafaele, but he gives no indication that this is out of the ordinary. Maybe he expected Leo, but maybe he didn’t.

Leo grins at me and extends his glass toward me. I nod politely, knowing I will never like the man—not after all the drama he tried to pull between me and his brother.

We’re ushered into the dining room, where his father, Capo Lucchese, is already seated at the head of the long, imposing table. He looks up as we enter, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they land on us, but his expression remains unreadable.

“Rafaele, Nora,” he says in greeting, his tone clipped but formal. “Good on you to finally join us. I started to think you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you, Father? Why would we do that?” Rafaele says coolly before pulling out a chair for me, then taking his seat beside mine.

Leo saunters over and takes a seat across from us, looking more than a little disinterested.

The tension in the room is palpable as the first course is served. Small talk is made, but it’s stilted and awkward and the capo’s eyes keep darting to Rafaele, waiting for his moment to strike.

It doesn’t take long.

“So, Rafaele,” his father says casually, picking up his wine glass. “How is the business these days? That is, if you know! As it seems you're not often there.”

Rafaele’s shoulders tense beside me, but he’s too experienced in these games to let his father’s words provoke him.

“The business is thriving,” Rafaele responds, unaffected, lifting his wine glass with practiced ease. “I’ve ensured everything is running smoothly.”

His father’s lips curl into a thin, condescending smirk. “Thriving, you say? Interesting. One might think you’re neglecting it, given how much time you seem to spend elsewhere.”

There it is—the subtle jab. The implication that Rafaele’s attention on me is somehow a detriment to the family business. Rafaele remains composed beside me, his expression unreadable. “I’m handling it,” he says evenly. He takes a deliberate sip of his wine, his tone as calm as ever, though I can sense the tension beneath. “How is the Fredo situation?”

I glance down, hiding my smile. That’s my Rafaele—unshaken, unbothered by the intimidation tactics. His father’s face reddens with frustration, and I feel the shift in the room as he leans back, clearly displeased.

“Are you sure? Seems like there’s been a lot of messes lately,” his father says sharply. “Maybe if you were more focused?—”

“Rafaele has it under control,” I cut in, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My voice is steady and firm. I refuse tolet his father belittle him. “He’s been managing everything. And none of the cleaning he has to do has anything to do with him.”

A thick silence follows. All eyes shift to me, and I feel the weight of their gazes. Rafaele’s father raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, and I brace myself for the blow.

“Oh?” His voice is cold. “And since when dothe wivesget involved in matters of business?”

I meet his gaze evenly, refusing to flinch. “Since they know their husband’s capabilities. Rafaele doesn’t need to be micromanaged. It’s obvious to everyone that he’s done more for this family than you’re willing to give him credit for.”

The room freezes. Rafaele’s grip on my hand tightens, his thumb brushing over my knuckles—a silent thank you. His father’s face hardens, his lips thinning into a displeased line. He isn’t used to being spoken to this way, especially not by a woman.

“Control your wife, Rafaele,” his father snaps, his gaze cutting to Rafaele like I’m not even in the room.

Rafaele’s grip on my hand doesn’t loosen, and when he responds, his voice is calm but firm. “Nora doesn’t need controlling. She’s my wife, and she speaks her mind. You’d do well to listen.”

I glance at Leo, whose eyes widen in surprise as if he’s seeing his brother in a new light. He looks back and forth between us, admiration mingled with shock.

“Since when did you start letting anyone speak for you?” his father demands, his voice laced with contempt.

“Since I married a woman worth listening to,” Rafaele responds without missing a beat. “I trust her judgment, and I’ll stand behind her every word.”

The silence that follows is deafening. His father’s nostrils flare, his face a shade of red I’ve never seen before. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pushes back his chair with a loudscrape, glaring at us both. “Rafaele, office. Now,” he barks before storming out of the room.

Leo lets out a low whistle, breaking the tension. “Well… that went about as well as I expected.”

Rafaele doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he turns to me, his expression softening instantly, concern clouding his eyes. “Are you okay?” His thumb caresses the back of my hand gently.

I nod. “Your father’s waiting.”

He shrugs, his attention still focused on me. “I don’t care about that. I’m asking if you’re okay.”

---