RafaelI stand outside Madeleine’s room, leaning with my back against the wall, breathing so hard that it hurts.It was a mistake. Kissing her was a mistake. It’s too soon. She doesn’t know me yet. In her mind, I’m still Dom - the sensitive romantic who cried in her church. Every naive little nun’s fantasy.I almost turn around and go back inside. I have to know what she’s thinking. I have to know if Dom is still all she sees when she looks at me.But I don’t do it. I don’t want to know. Not yet. I want to bask in the warmth of her glow a moment longer.**With a grunt and a grimace, I slide behind my desk and swallow two painkillers before I get a burner phone from the drawer. The sooner I set this meeting up with Luca Amato, the better. This Sforza matter needs to be dealt with.Apart from the bedroom where I bled last night, there’s no trace of what happened when I came home. I’m not worried about the other evidence - Missus Wilson is used to cleaning blood out of our clothing, and
MadeleineThe rest of the day passes easier. Faster. After school, Betsy kept me busy with her homework, and then brought all her new dolls to my room so we could play on my bed.It’s a good thing. She distracts me from what happened earlier. Keeps my mind off the kiss that still burns my lips. If I turn my head just right, I can smell Rafael on my pillow. And when I do, I'm instantly taken back to that moment when he stared into my eyes. It was as if he couldn’t quite believe that I was real… and then the kiss - like he was trying to reassure himself that I was truly here.He stole my breath from my lungs, and for just a little while he stilled my mind. It was peaceful inside that kiss. I wanted to stay there with him, wrapped in our protective little bubble where the outside world no longer existed.“Okay, that’s enough for one day,” Ethel says with a laugh.She’s been watching us for a good twenty minutes - not because she cares, I think, but because she wanted to observe me.“It
MadeleineI flush the yellow pill down the toilet and go back to bed. I allow myself to fall asleep, knowing that Ethel will wake me at ten to check my vitals and give me the last round of the day’s medication - a series of very painful injections that I dread.I thought I'd get used to the shots, but no luck so far.Ethel tries her best to be gentle, and keeps telling me that it’s the medicine inside that hurts, not the needles, but I swear sometimes it feels as if she’s pegging that needle into my ass like it's a dart.When Ethel’s done, she goes back to her room. I lie and wait for the rattle of the pipes, indicating that she’s taking a shower, and half an hour later the faint laughter of the audience on her television set floats through the wall. She falls asleep to sitcoms every night. I know when she wakes up, because she switches off the television when she does.Marco falls asleep right around the same time every night, and once he does, nothing can wake him. I don’t blame him
Madeleine“Don’t call me that,” I whisper. “I haven’t been Sister Francis for a long time. I don’t like being reminded of her.”Surprise flicker in his eyes, then understanding. “I get it. Do you still see Dom when you look at me?”His question takes me aback, but I think I do a good job at hiding it. “No,” I lie, but it’s not as smooth as I wanted it to be.“Sure you don’t,” he says in a low voice filled with doubt. “If it helps at all… when I met you, that is who I was. It is who I wanted to be. Dominic Perelli. Family man, church goer, respectable. I so badly wanted to be a good man.”That shocks me. His confession. Yet, I had known it all along, from the moment he walked back into my life I had known it. Because I knew Dom.I start to gather the soiled bandages and his bloody shirt because I don’t know what else to do. “Why didn’t you do it then? Why didn’t you go back to your old life? If that is what you wanted?”“Why did you go hide in a convent and pretend to be holy?”“I did n
RafaelMadeleine stands next to the bed, eyeing me suspiciously. “I promised,” I try to encourage her. “I may be a shitty person, but I am a man of my word.”She nods and gingerly gets on the bed, curling in on herself like a concertina. I don’t say anything. I expected her reaction. As much as she doesn’t want to be a nun anymore, she still acts like one. Thinks like one.I sit down and lie back, slowly lifting my legs onto the mattress. The pain is unbelievable, but I can just about bear it now. In truth, I'm quietly grateful Madeleine didn’t get the dental floss and needles out again. “You never talk about yourself,” I say in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence between us. “Your childhood. I know nothing about you.”“There is a room upstairs that tells a different story.”I laugh softly. The room is a shrine - built from the little pieces of her memories she chose to share with me. Before she moved in, I’d go to that room and sit there, pretending that Sister Francis was
MadeleineI watch on in horror as Rafael sinks to the ground, clutching his middle. His shirt is soaked in blood. Ethel rushes over to his side and lifts his shirt, while Marco just stands there like a statue, pale and shocked.I turn on my guard and say the first thing that pops into my head, “Tell no one about this."The young man may be too soft for this line of work, but I know he’s loyal. He sits outside my door, day in and day out, all in an effort to get Rafael’s approval.“Are you sure? Maybe-”“I’m sure,” I interrupt him. “He told me no one can know.”I glare at Ethel who looks up and just nods. “Patient confidentiality. I understand. What do you want to do?”The door rattles as Betsy screams and throws herself against it. It jars my nerves and eats away at my sanity one little bite at a time.All my senses are in overdrive. I don’t know what to do or where to turn. Betsy in one room losing her everloving mind, or Rafael who is bleeding out on the floor.I’m in desperate need
MadeleineBetsy destroyed her room. I knew she would. Thank goodness Rafael removed everything of value from the room - including that expensive looking ballerina figurine.The pretty room, fit for a little princess as she wanted it to be, is now a dump. She destroyed the dollhouse. Her dolls have no heads or legs. The potted plant with the little pink flowers has been overturned and the dirt scattered.She shredded her bedding and tore her pillows open, scattering stuffing all over the room. The pink curtains are in tatters. On the floor, next to the room, is the pair of scissors she used to do it.I’ve never seen this level of destruction from her.Rafael is going to lose his damn mind.I’m going to lose my mind.The anger that washes over me is something I’ve never experienced before. For the first time since I’ve had to take her into my care, I want to put her over my knee and spank her.Betsy is sitting in the middle of the room, covered in dirt, stuffing stuck in her hair like l
RafaelI am pain. It’s become one with my being. It’s a part of me. At least for now.Walking down the hallway, leaning heavily on Madeleine, is like trekking through an obstacle course filled with broken glass and razor blades tearing at my flesh.God. Even my feet hurt.I didn’t know a person could be in this much pain, bleed as much as I have, and still live to tell the tale.With a sigh and a grunt, I fall on Madeleine’s bed, and just lie there with my feet dangling on the floor. Ethel is close behind, fussing over me like she’s my mother as she lifts my legs up and pulls the comforter over me.She always did like me. Even when we were children. She’d follow me around like a mama hen, making sure I didn’t fall in the water or run off to the guard house. Whenever she was around, she made it her personal mission to keep me away from the wiseguys.She was pissed when I came back. After my father’s funeral, while everyone sat around in the parlour remembering the old man, she pulled
RafaelI can’t remember the last time I walked through the city without having someone around to watch my back. Even after the war ended, I always had someone with me - just in case. Not just because the smaller families still held a grudge, but because I damn well knew I pissed Matteo off every time I emptied one of his containers.It's liberating. Glorious. To walk in the sunshine with Madeleine by my side. I've forgotten how good it feels to be free.I glance at Maddie who is simply radiant. She didn’t even look this healthy back in the convent, where I’m sure she had a decent enough life, if not a good one.The little cafe, tucked away between two boutiques at the bottom of the street, is one of my favourite places. It’s small, with only five tables and two booths. The little restaurant is quiet, the food is good, and the owner doesn’t feel the need for constant validation like English does.We step into a place that looks a little like every grandmother’s living room. Not a sing
MadeleineI wake up glowing. Like a firefly that didn’t know its light was missing and finally found it again. It's exhilirating. I finally did it. I managed to move on from Sister Francis.I ache in all the right places, and I feel alive in ways I didn’t know was possible. And rested. As if I slept for a week.I stretch and look at the place where Rafael should be, but his spot is empty. The balcony doors are wide open though, and I can smell the scent of smoke drifting in from outside.I’m embarrassed to face him. I don’t know why. It’s stupid. I’m a grown woman, but he always saw me as something… untouchable. What if he doesn't see me the same way he used to? What if he looks at me the same way he looked at the hookers in the casino?All the men in that place regarded me that way, and it didn’t bother me. They didn't matter, and I knew who I truly was. Still am. But if Rafael looks at me like that, I don’t think I’ll make it. I laid myself bare to him last night. In every sense of
RafaelI am drunk on pure Madeleine. Her scent. Her taste. The way she so easily opens up to me. Trusting me not to hurt her. Trusting that she can be herself with me.It’s intoxicating. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my life.Moaning softly, I dip my tongue inside her, drowning in her.I’m so hard, so in need of her, that I’m afraid I’ll burst wide open. Like a fucking geyser.I didn’t lie when I told her that I haven’t had sex in a while. It’s been years.I want to rush. Every part of me wants to be inside her.But Jesus, Mary and Joseph, if life isn’t pretty fucking magnificent right where I am at the moment. Between her legs, drinking her in like a dying man who found an oasis in the desert.Slowly, I start to open her, working a finger inside her. Even that is glorious. She is glorious.It happens fast and suddenly. The orgasm that takes her is intense. She breaks open for me like a blooming flower meeting the sun.That is what I wanted. Feeling her throb around my finger.
MadeleineRafael crushes out his cigarette and sips his drink. He brought up a glass of wine for me, but I hardly touched it. After what happened at the casino, I have a deep distrust for any kind of wine.“What time is it?” I ask.He glances at his watch. “Wow. Almost nine.”I jump up. “I missed Betsy’s bedtime. I promised her that I’d tuck her in.”“No,” he says and puts his glass down. “Your face is swollen. She’ll notice that you cried. I’ll do it. Why don’t you go take a nice, long bath and relax?”I shake my head. “I don’t… no, I don’t want to be alone.”He just nods. “Okay. I’ll be quick.”“Promise?”He leans over and kisses me. He tastes and smells like cigarettes and whiskey. I wrinkle my nose, and he laughs. “I also promise to brush my teeth.”While he is gone, I go to the bathroom. He’s right, my face is very swollen, my eyes red. I am exhausted. Mentally, I’m just done.I wash my face, brush my hair and teeth, and go back to the bedroom just as Rafael returns. Without a wo
MadeleineHe holds me like I’m a piece of broken porcelain he has to glue back together. Like I’ll come apart if he lets me go.But I’ve already come undone. In that laundry room this morning while I watched the horrors of last night flash before my eyes. Last night - sometime between that moment when Rafael gave me the gun, and when I dropped it in the lake with the rest of the weapons, standing shoulder to shoulder with some of the deadliest, most violent people on the planet.And yet... I think it happened even sooner than that. Perhaps it began when my father handed me a deck of cards for the first time and showed me how to shuffle it.I came to Rafael broken. He met me after I was already in pieces, held together with invisible tape and glue until somebody dropped me.And it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Rafael. Not him.It was them. When they died. My parents. They let go as they always did, and I shattered to pieces.Again.And everytime that happened, it became harder and harder to p
RafaelI take the stairs slowly, one hand brushing the glass rail. Each step feels like I’m climbing toward the inevitable - toward the part where she looks me in the eye and tells me she can’t do this.I wouldn’t blame her. Not anymore. I wanted to lock her up in a cage. Like I locked the image of Sister Francis in my heart. I wanted to use her for my own selfish reasons. And for a while there, I thought I could do it without corrupting her.I wanted to use Madeleine like I used that fantasy of who she was. A port in my stormy seas. A place where I could pretend that I’m something I’m not. Something I so desperately wanted to be.It will never happen. None of it. I am who I am. She is who she is. Kind, sweet, and gentle. And I’m stripping that away from her, one piece at a time until there'll be nothing but a shell left.The hallway is silent. No cartoons. No giggles. Just the low hum of the city filtering through the double-glazed windows. This is my life. Me. Alone. Drifting thro
RafaelOn my way home, I swing by the hospital to check in on Paulie and to give him a basket of mini muffins. It’s one of his guilty pleasures and a bizarre quirk I could never figure out. All I know is that he loves those things.There's no need for business now, although he probably knows everything already. "How's Vinnie?" he asks and tears into the basket of muffins."Fine. They discharged him this afternoon."I still for a while longer, eager to leave but aware enough to know that if I don't, Paulie will take offence. As soon as Cara shows up, I get up and say my goodbyes.Then I stop at a grocery store to stock up on some supplies for the penthouse. I buy a ridiculous amount of snacks, juices, flavoured milks, cereal, colouring books, and other things I think Betsy will like. I stroll down the other isles, loading my cart with more food than we’ll need. I stop in front of the condom rack, staring at the colourful boxes and variety of prophylactics on display. For a moment, I
RafaelI step out onto the narrow terrace of the strip club, one hand curled around the burner phone, the other around my Zippo. I only smoke when I’m stressed, and I haven’t been this stressed in months.I light the cigarette and lean on the railing, looking out over the city stretches into the horizon - glass towers and concrete for miles around. It smells of despair and broken dreams while everyone who lives here pretends to be something they’re not. Just like me.I dial the number manually. No names saved. No records.It rings once. Twice. Then, “Whose this?” Salvatore answers. No hello. No pleasantries. Just those two simple words - like a curse or a challenge.“Andoletti.”“Ah.” He doesn’t sound surprised. Salvatore’s accent is thick, but his English is perfect. “Yes. I have been waiting for your call.”“You have a problem,” I say.Silence. He knows already, he’s just waiting for me to confirm it.“Enzo,” I go on. “He gave the signal to Sforza and Romano. They hit my house. At
MadeleineI wake up when I hear a toilet flush.The room is dark, the heave shades blocking out the sun, but I can see well enough.I have no idea what time it is, but I don’t think we slept that long. I don’t feel rested. Still, I have to get up - Betsy will be awake by now, and she’s in a strange place. She'll be scared and confused.A door clicks open, and Rafael appears like a phantom next to the dresser. He’s in one of his immaculate suits, and it does all sorts of crazy things to my hormones. “It’s still early,” he says in a low, measured tone. “Go back to sleep.”The man from last night, the one who almost lost control and kissed me with so much unbridled passion, is gone. In his place is this man. Cool. Calm. And way too fucking collected.I wonder if he has an on-off switch.“Betsy’s probably looking for me,” I say.“I checked on her,” he informs me and puts on his watch. “She’s still asleep. I’m sure she’ll scream you awake when she needs you.”Even that is almost unbearably