“I want to learn. Let me shadow you today and see how you do everything around here. I’ll do anything you tell me to. Help you however you’d like. You’re the boss, all right?”
Loretta glances at her feet like she’s embarrassed. “Not a very good boss, I’m afraid,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. It was rude of me.”
It was pretty rude, but at least she’s woman enough to admit it. That’s more than most people ever do.
“It’s okay,” I say. “So we both fucked up. People make mistakes, right? Why don’t we start over?”
Loretta stares at me for a moment, considering my offer. “Okay. But you listen to everything I say and do exactly as I tell you.”
I grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
A slow smile appears on her face. “Then let’s get to work.”
CHAPTER 25
RAFAELE
It’s past midnight, and my office is bathed in darkness. A single antique desk lamp illuminates the space, casting shadows onto the wooden bookshelves.
I like working in the dark. I find it easier to focus. And I really need to focus if I want to get to sleep in the next hour.
It’s not like me to procrastinate, but it’s been a long week, and I’m drained.
We’ve still got no new leads on who’s behind the Il Caminetto attack. With the trail growing cold, I’m getting less and less optimistic we’ll get to the bottom of this anytime soon.
On top of that, an issue with my capo in Rochester kept me in the city for longer than I would have liked. We captured a Bratva informer who’s been doing surveillance on us to find out which businesses pay us protection. My left hand still fucking aches from hitting his thick skull.
Maybe getting his body back in a suitcase will make the Russian pakhan realize he should stay the fuck out of our state.
Last night, when I got back home after being gone for four days, Cleo was sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living room with her computer in her lap. The moment she saw me, the lines of concentration in her forehead softened, her eyes widened, and her lips quirked up. She missed me.
“You’re back,” she said, those two words underscored with relief.
A strange feeling passed through me. One I couldn’t name. The sensation started at the center of my chest and spread with every step I took toward Cleo. She watched me approach, pulling on her bottom lip with her teeth, and asked me about my trip.
Instead of answering her, I leaned down and kissed her. It was chaste. Sweet. It was probably just my exhaustion muddling my head, because in the moment, I didn’t want to fuck her. All I wanted was one simple kiss from my wife.
She didn’t pull away. She leaned into me like it was exactly what she wanted too.
And that tiny movement was everything.
I rake my fingers through my hair. I almost have her. By now, I’ve realized that the way past her defenses isn’t through her body, but through her mind.
Tesoro mio. So sharp on the outside, but she’s all soft inside. How did I not see it earlier?
She craves for someone to accept her for who she really is. Acceptance is one of many things her parents never gave her. She hasn’t been enough for them her whole life. They told her she is flawed, wrong, undesired.
But I desire her. Her flaws give her character. She is just right for me.
I might never be able to love her—my ability to love was ruthlessly trained out of me—but I can appreciate her. It will be enough for her, because it will be more than anything she’s ever gotten before. She won’t know the difference. How could she?
Our game is almost at its end. She put up a far stronger defense than I anticipated, but with each passing day, I chip at it bit by bit.
I’m a patient man.
I’ve been repeating those words so often in these last few days they feel like a prayer. It’s only a matter of time before she finally surrenders to me, and I can declare checkmate.
I was right all along. Cleo is a puzzle, one I’ve nearly managed to solve. And when I do, she won’t occupy so many of my thoughts.
The tension will dissipate. The intrigue will be over. And my mind will be calm again.
Nero was wrong. He thought she would unmoor me. That she would make me lose control. But no matter what my consigliere thinks, I’ve stayed in control the entire time we’ve been playing. And that’s the way it’ll always be.
There’s a knock on the door. I glance up from my laptop. Since it’s late, the staff has been dismissed for the evening. A shiver of anticipation rolls down my spine.
“Come in.”
My wife appears in the doorway, a stack of papers in her arms. She’s dressed in the same outfit I saw her in this morning—a white blouse and a pink skirt that stops mid-thigh. Her copper hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders.
She’s so beautiful.
“What is it?” I ask.
She leans against the doorjamb. “I need your help. Do you have time right now?”
I tear my gaze away from her bare thighs and nod. “Of course.”
She comes inside, closing the door behind her. “Loretta and I have started planning on how we can repay all of her debts.” She puts the stack of papers on my desk. “I’ve called most of her creditors today asking to put repayment plans in place that will give us some breathing room.”
Things between my cousin and her must be going well. “That’s a good idea.”
“There’s one creditor that won’t give us an extension for some reason. It’s the fabric supplier and starting next week he’s refusing to deliver any more stock until the debt is repaid.”
“How much is it?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
I lean back in my seat. “How long will it take Loretta to pay it back?”
“We’ve implemented some changes to how she runs her business, and I think we’ll see things start to turn around quickly. Assuming her sales double, she’ll pay him back in six months. If they triple, it’ll take four months.”
“Do you have numbers to back this up?”
She pulls out a USB from her pocket and slides it across the desk. “The financial model and all of our assumptions are here.”
I take the USB and plug it into my laptop. When I open the Excel file, it’s an effort not to show my surprise. “You made this?”
She sits down across from me and nods.
“How?”
“A lot of hours watching videos on YouTube.”
This financial model is better than most of the ones my capos show me whenever they have a new idea. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been promised there was no way for me not to make a return, only to look at the numbers and realize the idea is a dud.
I scroll through the spreadsheet and spend a few minutes playing with the assumptions. Everything Cleo said about the repayment timeline checks out.
I look up at her. “I’m impressed.”
She rolls her eyes. “What? Did you think I was a moron? I’ll have you know math was my best subject in high school.”
That’s news to me. “It was?”
“I was nearly top of the class.”