The door closed behind him harder than necessary.
Rafael dropped his jacket on the back of a chair, his boots leaving wet prints across Emilia’s hardwood floor.
“You were late,” she said, not looking up from the file she was reading.
“I was followed.”
That got her attention. She set the file down, eyes narrowing. “Cesare’s men?”
“Or yours,” Rafael said, voice flat.
Her brows drew together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He moved closer, shadows cutting his face into sharp planes. “I got a call tonight. Some ghost voice telling me you’re feeding Cesare lies about me.”
She stared at him, searching his expression for the punchline.
When it didn’t come, she stood. “And you believed them?”
“I didn’t believe them,” he said, “but I didn’t throw it away either.”
“That’s the problem wit
