The Mafia Boss Saw Me Bandaging a Stray Dog — Then He Quietly Followed Me Home Alone
Chapter 6
Maya turned. Raphael stood near the curb — dark coat, hands in his pockets, calm as ever. Somehow, she was no longer surprised to see him.
“Do you just materialize whenever I mention your name?” she asked.
“That would be an unusual talent.”
“You keep showing up.”
“So do you.”
She laughed despite herself. The dog moved immediately to Raphael and sat beside him — not cautiously, not hesitantly, but comfortably, as though they’d known each other for years. Maya noticed it instantly. Raphael crouched and scratched behind the dog’s ear, and the animal practically melted with happiness.
Maya folded her arms. “Most dogs need time to trust people.”
“Perhaps he has good instincts.”
“Perhaps.”
For a moment they stood together beneath the afternoon sunlight while traffic drifted past, and the scene felt strangely normal, strangely easy. Then Maya remembered the conversation she’d overheard.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You usually do.”
“People seem nervous when they talk about you. Why?”
The smile faded. The silence turned heavy — not comfortable, the way it had been all afternoon. Cars passed. Wind stirred the fallen leaves across the sidewalk. The dog sat quiet between them.
“Sometimes people create stories,” Raphael said at last, “when they don’t understand something.”
It wasn’t really an answer. They both knew it. A black SUV pulled slowly to the curb, its driver waiting. Maya looked at the vehicle, then back at him. She had the strange feeling of standing at the edge of a door she wasn’t supposed to open. And for the first time since they’d met, she wondered whether learning the truth about Raphael Marino might be far more complicated than she was prepared for.
The following Wednesday arrived wrapped in cold sunlight and a sharp wind that carried fallen leaves through the streets. Maya had spent the entire morning trying not to think about Raphael Marino, and it was getting harder by the day. Every unanswered question seemed to breed three more. By late afternoon, she found herself standing at a small community fundraiser for local animal shelters in lower Manhattan — an event occupying the top floor of a renovated warehouse overlooking the East River.
Large windows filled the space with golden light. Volunteers moved between display tables while donors chatted beside framed photographs of rescue animals that had found permanent homes. Maya was helping organize paperwork when she noticed a familiar figure enter the room. Raphael, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, his expression calm as always. Yet something about him seemed different tonight — more distant, more thoughtful, as if he were carrying something heavier than usual.
Several people approached him immediately. Conversations followed. Handshakes. Quiet respect. Maya watched from across the room. Eventually, their eyes met, and he crossed the floor toward her.
“I should stop being surprised when you appear somewhere,” Maya said.
“That would save us both time.”
A faint smile touched his face. Before she could respond, one of the event organizers interrupted. “Mr. Marino, your office requested the presentation materials.”
Raphael nodded. “Thank you.” He accepted a leather portfolio and stepped aside to take a call that had just arrived.