Page 2 of Devil Among Men

“I know that.” He pushes off the railing, stepping toward me.

We stand there, a few feet of stone terrace between us that might as well be an ocean.

“Portia, I’ve spent years trying to piece together who I am and what parts are missing. It doesn’t mean I did it the right way.”

“You don’t get to make me a project, Rafael. I’ve spent more than half my life not knowing why my parents were taken from me. You had answers. You had them, and you chose to keep me in the dark.”

“I was trying to figure out how to tell you without doing you harm.”

“Then you should’ve told me before that was exactly what you did.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. I watch him search for one anyway, jaw working, and for a moment I almost feel sorry for him.

…for the boy who grew into two different men.

He’s survived what was done to him, but that doesn’t excuse the mistakes he’s made in turn.

Sympathy and forgiveness aren’t the same thing, and I’m not ready to hand him the second one simply because I understand the first.

“I don’t know what I need from you right now,” I say. “I don’t think it’s an apology. I think I just need you to let me be angry without trying to fix it.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you?” I ask. “Because that’s not really your instinct, is it?”

“No,” he admits. “It’s not. But I’m learning.”

I want to believe him. That’s the worst part—some traitorous, aching piece of me still wants to cross this terrace and let him hold me the way he has every other night since Sicily became the place we ran to.

More than anything, I hate how much I still want that, even now. Even while furious and betrayed.

“I need space,” I say. “Not forever. Just… right now. I can’t be in a room with you and pretend my chest doesn’t feel like it’s caving in every time I look at you.”

“Okay, your call. I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

I turn away before showing any more cracks of emotion and walk back inside the villa.

Behind me, he lets out a long and unsteady exhale, the sound of a man holding himself together by will alone.

2

RAFAEL

She said she needed space. I decided to give it to her.

I walk the villa’s grounds instead of going back inside, tracing the same perimeter out of old habit, checking sight lines and shadows and anywhere a man like Vito might be watching from without my knowledge.

It’s easier than sitting still. Easier than replaying the look on her face when I told her the truth.

Familiar voices carry from the kitchen window as I circle back toward the house. Maurizio and Adagio are awake far earlier than I expected.

I find them at the table when I step inside, Maurizio is working a whetstone against a blade that doesn’t need sharpening, Adagio is slouched in the opposite chair as if he hasn’t decided yet whether the day calls for coffee or wine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I say.

“Doesn’t look like anyone did.” Maurizio doesn’t glance up from the blade. “How bad was it with her?”

“Bad.” I drop into the third chair, rubbing a hand over my face. “She needs space. I’m giving it to her.”