Page 41 of Dangerous Deception

I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the rain pattering against the stone slabs nearby. It’s a soft sound, but it grounds me against the waves of grief crashing against my determination not to break down today. I owe Marie that much, at least.

As I listen, words from Raffaele catch my attention.

“… understand completely. Times like these make it really important for us to cherish the ones we love. I can’t do anything to ease the pain you are feeling, but I can promise you that you will be taken care of for the rest of your lives.”

“Thank you,” Marie’s mother sobs.

“Marie must have left quite the impression,” her father says gruffly. “We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for the funeral, and for us.”

“Please, it’s no problem. Don’t even mention it.”

I open my eyes. Raffaele has Marie’s father’s hand clasped in his own as they shake, and his face is filled with sympathy.

Does he mean it?

Will he really take care of them like that when they are strangers to him? Confusion twists in my gut while I try to work out why he would do such a thing, but I don’t have time to fully analyze it as another old friend appears to offer their sympathies.

My smile remains in place until something cracks in my mind and I want to leave.

Raffaele is right there with me the moment I voice that desire, and I use the last of my strength to say goodbye to Marie’s parents.

The tears come the second we’re in the car. My head falls into my hands, and I weep quietly, trembling violently until I can’t breathe through my stuffy nose and swollen eyes. Only then do I lift my head while the car weaves silently through the rain-soaked city.

Raffaele sits next to me, watching me intently. Seeing me lift my head, he reaches toward me with a tissue, and a painful reflex causes me to flinch away.

“Sorry,” I whisper, reaching for the tissue in his hand.

“Don’t be,” he replies calmly. “I take no offense.”

“You should,” I murmur, irritated by his understanding. “You’ve done nothing to me, yet I flinch away from you.”

Raffaele’s hand slowly returns to his lap. “We’re not in control of our trauma responses, so having ill feelings toward you because of that would be pretty fucked up.”

I dab at my eyes with the tissues, wincing as splotches of mascara smear the cotton.

Waterproof, my ass.

Sniffling, I try to wipe away the tears, but they continue to fall as my heart aches painfully in my chest. “Did you…?” I start to speak, but my crying has made my throat raw. Coughing softly, I try again. “I heard you telling Marie’s parents you’d take care of them. Did you mean it?”

Raffaele’s brow lifts slightly. “Of course I did.”

“Why?” I ask bluntly. “They’re nothing to you.”

Raffaele sighs softly, glancing briefly out the window at the passing gray city. “I take care of collateral damage where I can. Marie’s parents are as innocent as her in all of this.”

“But you kill innocent people all the time.” The words escape me with little thought. “Since when did you care?”

Raffaele’s hand flexes against his thigh. “You have quite the monstrous view of me.”

“Your reputation speaks for itself.” Am I trying to start an argument to make myself feel better? I can’t tell. Part of me wants him to be angry, to yell at me and blame me so I can feel justified in my guilt. But ever since my rescue, he’s been nothing but sweet and considerate. It’s almost like he genuinely cares.

“My reputation is carefully crafted,” Raffaele replies. “With care and dedication. But you’ve been around me for some time now. Do you really still believe everything you’ve heard about me?”

“You slaughter families.” My tone grows sharp. “You’ve cut down countless people in your thirst for power. From small families just trying to get by, to larger ones in power. No one is safe for you. And you leave no one left alive, not even the house staff. When you target someone, you kill them all without mercy. You’re like the black death, going from door to door and slaughtering everyone inside. Innocent blood spills and you celebrate.”

Raffaele’s jaw tightens, causing the nerve to jump above his jaw, but he continues to watch me. “No one in the Mafia is innocent,” he replies. “I can’t give you all the details, but anyone who has died under my hand has deserved it in some way. And yes, you are correct. I’ll kill everyone. The man of the house might be a murderer who favors young girls. He dies, and so does his wife who looks the other way when she hears those girls screaming for mercy. I’ll kill the guards who hold her down, the staff who lock the doors and clean the sheets afterward, the driver who delivered the girl, and the guards who bury the body.”

“And if there are children?” I snap. “You’ve killed children too.”

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