Chapter 32
Cece
Iwoke to the warmth of Rafe's body wrapped around mine, his arm a heavy, possessive weight across my waist and his breath hot against my neck.
For a moment, I didn't move, savoring the solid heat of him pressed against my back and the way our legs tangled together beneath the sheets.
This was different from all the other mornings we'd spent in this bed—no careful distance maintained by a wall of pillows, no pretending we weren't hyperaware of each other's bodies. Just us, skin to skin.
The soft beep of Rafe's alarm broke the stillness. He stirred behind me, his arm tightening briefly around my waist before he reached over to silence the insistent noise. I felt the press of his lips against my shoulder, then the dip of the mattress as he sat up.
"Morning," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, sending little shivers of pleasure racing across my skin.
I rolled over to face him. "Morning."
The sight of him nearly stole my breath—hair mussed from my fingers, stubble darkening his jaw, and those devastating eyes still heavy-lidded.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine, a gentle kiss that quickly deepened when I slid my fingers into his hair to hold him close.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing harder.
"I have to get ready for work," he said, though he made no move to leave the bed.
"I know." I stretched, deliberately letting the sheet slide down to expose my breasts to his hungry gaze. The flash of heat in his eyes was worth the chill of morning air on my skin.
"You're playing with fire, Cecelia." The warning in his voice was undermined by the way his hand moved to cup one breast, thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.
"Maybe I like getting burned." I arched into his touch, shameless in my need for him even after everything we'd shared the night before.
With visible reluctance, he pulled away and stood. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch him walk naked to the bathroom, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin and the perfect curve of his ass.
"Like what you see?" he called over his shoulder.
"Always have," I admitted with a grin. "But I'm allowed to look now."
His answering laugh was warm and genuine, a sound I was hearing more often lately and wanted to keep hearing for as long as possible.
While Rafe showered, I dozed, drifting in and out of a pleasant haze.
The events of the past few days played through my mind like scenes from someone else's life.
Had it really only been weeks since he'd thrown me over his shoulder at that club and paid my debt?
Since we'd entered this marriage of convenience that was rapidly becoming anything but fake?
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips and water droplets still clinging to his chest, I was fully awake and sitting up against the headboard with the sheet pulled modestly to my chest.
"Shame," he commented, nodding at my covered state. "I was looking forward to the view."
"Go to work, de Luca," I said with a laugh. "If I give you the view you want, you'll never make it out of this bedroom."
"Would that be so terrible?" He dropped the towel without warning and reached for his boxer briefs, giving me an eyeful that had me biting my lip to suppress a whimper.
"Cruel man," I muttered.
He smirked as he continued dressing, each layer of expensive fabric hiding more of that magnificent body from my sight. By the time he fastened his cufflinks—a process that somehow managed to be erotic despite covering rather than revealing skin—I was seriously considering dragging him back to bed.
"What are your plans today?" he asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror.
"Probably catching up with Izzy. Maybe Evie too, if she's free." I stretched again, enjoying the pleasant soreness in the muscles that had gotten quite the workout. "Why?"
"Just curious." He finished with his tie and turned to face me. "Have dinner with me tonight."
I raised an eyebrow. "We live together. We have dinner together every night."
"Not like this." He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "I want to take you on a proper date. Like we should have done before all..." he gestured between us, "...this."
"A date?" I repeated, surprised by how formal it sounded. As if we hadn't spent the last twenty-four hours mapping each other's bodies with hands and mouths and whispered confessions.
"Yes, a date." His smile was almost shy, another crack in that perfect facade. "I want to pick you up at seven, take you somewhere nice, and pretend we're just getting to know each other. Even though I already know how you taste when you come on my tongue."
I sucked in a breath at his words as heat pooled low in my belly. "Seven works for me."
He leaned in for a quick kiss, then stood.
"I'll see you tonight, then." He made it all the way to the bedroom door before stopping, turning, and coming back to the bed with purposeful strides.
Before I could ask what he was doing, he'd tangled one hand in my hair and kissed me thoroughly, the kind of kiss that made my toes curl and my brain short-circuit.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. "That's to hold you over until tonight." And then he was gone, leaving me flushed and breathless and half-tempted to chase after him.
Once I heard the front door close, I flopped back against the pillows with a disbelieving laugh. A date. My husband wanted to take me on a date, as if we weren't already married, as if we hadn't just spent a night fucking each other senseless.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and pulled up my group chat with Evie, Kate, and Izzy.
Me: Lunch today? I have news.
Three dots appeared almost immediately as one of them typed a response. Of course it was Izzy.
Izzy: TELL ME EVERYTHING. Is it about Rafe’s dick? It's about his dick, isn't it?
I snorted as my fingers flew over the keyboard.
Me: You're disgusting.
Izzy: You love me for it. So? Did he finally unleash the monster? We talking length or girth or the magical combination of both?
Kate: Isabella Marie Rivera! It's 9am on a Tuesday. Can you not?
Izzy: Sorry not sorry. Some of us need to live vicariously. So, Cece? Spill.
Evie: I'm both disturbed because Cece’s my sister and intrigued because Rafe’s one of my husband's best friends. I don't know how to feel about this.
Me: You'll have to buy me lunch to find out. The usual place at 1?
Kate: I'll be there.
Evie: Wouldn't miss it.
Izzy: Oh I am DEFINITELY coming for this tea. Maybe Cece is too, if Rafe is as good as they say.
Me: I hate you.
Izzy: No you don't. See you at 1!
Setting my phone down, I grinned like an idiot. Telling them about my feelings for Rafe would make it real in a way that whispering it against his skin in the dark hadn't. I was nervous, especially about Evie's reaction. If my sister didn’t approve… No, I didn’t want to go there.
After a long, hot shower—during which I discovered several interesting marks on my body that would require strategic clothing choices—I dressed in a simple green wrap dress that Evie had once told me made my eyes pop.
It was casual enough for lunch but could transition to dinner with the right accessories.
As I headed for the door, Edward appeared in the hallway, his usual impassive expression firmly in place.
"Good morning, Mrs. de Luca."
"Edward, please, it's Cecelia." I smiled at him, but his frown only deepened.
"Mrs. de Luca," he repeated firmly. "Will you be going out today?"
I nodded. "Lunch with my sister and friends."
His lips thinned. "I'll arrange for a car—"
"That's not necessary," I interrupted. "I'm just going a few blocks. The fresh air will do me good."
"Given the recent... incidents, Mr. de Luca was quite clear about security protocols."
The implied threat of the stalker gave me a moment’s pause. But I pushed down the cold knot of fear that formed in my stomach every time I thought about those notes, the dead roses, the knowledge that someone was watching me.
"I'll be careful," I promised. "And I'll text Rafe when I arrive and leave."
Edward looked like he wanted to argue further, but at that moment, Chef Lucia emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Bella!" she exclaimed, her warm smile at odds with Edward's stern expression. "You go out? I make lunch for you here instead, no? Much safer."
I couldn't help but smile at her motherly concern. "I already have plans with my friends, Lucia, but thank you."
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "These friends, they not cook like Lucia. You too skinny still." She gestured vaguely at my body. "Need meat on bones to make babies with Mr. Rafe."
I choked on air. "We're not—I mean—that's not—"
"Lucia," Edward interjected, "perhaps Mrs. de Luca would like some privacy regarding her personal matters."
I shot him a grateful look, though my embarrassment only deepened when I noticed the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth that suggested he was holding back amusement at my expense.
"Fine, fine," Lucia sighed dramatically. "But you be careful, yes? Bad things happen to pretty girls who not careful. These letters, they worry Lucia." Making the sign of the cross, she muttered a prayer for my safety in Italian.
"I'll be fine," I assured them both, though the reminder of the stalker made my skin crawl. "I have my phone, and Rafe's private security has been watching the building. Nothing's going to happen in broad daylight."
After a few more assurances and promises to check in regularly, Edward finally relented.
I left the penthouse feeling both touched by their concern and suffocated by it.
Outside, the crisp autumn air filled my lungs, and I took a moment to simply breathe, to feel normal despite the abnormal circumstances of my life.