Page 107 of Made for Vengeance

His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "About?"

"About whatever's happening that you're not telling me," I said, deciding that directness was the only approach that might work. "About the warehouse in Charlestown. About my father acquiring properties after a mysterious fire. About why securityhas been increased and why everyone around here looks like they're waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Rafe's face went carefully blank, the mask he wore for business sliding into place. "You've been busy this morning."

"I've been observant," I corrected. "Which isn't difficult when people suddenly stop talking when I enter a room, or when I find newspaper clippings about my father's business dealings hidden in library books."

I pulled the article from my pocket, holding it up between us like evidence in a trial. Rafe didn't reach for it, his eyes never leaving mine.

"It wasn't hidden," he said finally. "It was set aside for review."

"By whom?"

"By me." He took the clipping, glancing at it briefly before setting it on his desk. "I was tracking your father's recent acquisitions. It's relevant to certain business interests."

"Business interests you haven't mentioned to me," I pointed out. "Despite your promise of honesty."

Something flickered in his eyes—frustration, perhaps, or guilt. "There are aspects of my business that don't concern you, Grace. That I choose not to burden you with."

"Burden me?" I repeated, incredulous. "Is that what you think honesty would be? A burden?"

"In some cases, yes." He moved back behind his desk, putting physical distance between us. A defensive maneuver I recognized from our earlier days, when our relationship had been more clearly defined as captor and captive. "There are things you don't need to know. Things that would only cause you unnecessary distress."

"That's not your decision to make," I said, my voice sharper than I'd intended. "You promised me honesty, Rafe. Completehonesty. About why I'm here, about what you want from me, about your business with my family. Those were your words."

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You're right," he said finally. "I did promise that. But there's a difference between honesty and full disclosure of every detail of my business operations."

"This isn't about 'every detail,'" I countered. "This is about whatever is happening between you and my father. Whatever has led to increased security here, to men in the hospital, to hushed conversations that stop when I enter a room. This is about me, Rafe. My family. My situation."

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair—a rare gesture of frustration I'd come to recognize. "It's complicated, Grace."

"Then explain it to me," I insisted. "I'm not a child. I'm not fragile. I deserve to know what's happening."

"Yes, you do," he agreed, surprising me. "And I will explain. Tonight, at dinner. When I can give the conversation the time and attention it deserves. Not now, when I have a meeting in ten minutes and we're both too on edge for a productive discussion."

It was a reasonable request, but it felt like another delay, another evasion. "Promise me," I said, needing some assurance. "Promise me you'll tell me everything tonight. No more half-truths, no more protected spaces, no more deciding what I can and can't handle."

His eyes held mine, dark and intense. "I promise to tell you what you need to know to understand your situation. To understand what's happening between the Contis and the O'Sullivans. But there are some details of my business operations that must remain private, Grace. Not because I don't trust you, but because that knowledge could put you in danger."

It wasn't everything I wanted, but it was probably the best I was going to get. "Fine," I conceded. "Tonight, then."

He nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Thank you for your patience."

"Don't thank me yet," I warned, moving toward the door. "I haven't heard what you have to say."

His lips curved in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Eight o'clock. In my private dining room."

I nodded and left, closing the door behind me with a soft click that belied the turmoil inside me. Rafe was hiding something—something significant enough that he felt the need to protect me from it, despite our evolving relationship, despite his promises of honesty.

The question was: what?

And more importantly: why?

I spent the afternoon in a state of restless anticipation, unable to focus on reading or music or any of my usual diversions. Instead, I wandered the estate, watching, listening, gathering what information I could from overheard conversations and observed behaviors.

The picture that emerged was concerning. Security had indeed been increased—more men patrolling the grounds, additional checks at the gates, a general atmosphere of heightened vigilance. The staff moved with a tension that hadn't been present before, their conversations muted, their expressions guarded.

Something was coming. Something everyone knew about except me.

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