Chapter 2
AISLING
I thought I was ready to see him again.
But as Raf’s sharp hazel eyes find mine, it feels as though I’ve been stripped naked—vulnerable and exposed.
A memory hits hard and fast, and I can almost feel his lips on mine, taste the whiskey on his breath.
He still has the immaculate style he did back then, his dark suit crisp and fashionable, his dress shirt unbuttoned at his throat to give him that casual, rebellious edge.
But he fills his suit out in a way that suggests he’s lost the lean muscles of youth.
Instead, the man dressed in his fine Italian suit is all man, hard and unforgiving.
Even his eyes hold a haunting coldness they never did before.
As if he’s been to hell and back.
And after having lost his father, his home, and his family’s power all in one fell blow, I can imagine the truth is not far off.
As he stares me down, his gaze inscrutable, it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to wrap my arms protectively around my waist, to curl in on myself beneath the same sense of crushing rejection I felt all those years ago.
The shock of his sudden dismissal that night was like a bucket of ice water on top of our infernal chemistry.
And though I thought five years would be long enough to get over it—to get over him—the pain cuts as sharply as it did the night I last saw him.
I swallow hard to remove the sudden knot in my throat.
Then I clench my fists as fiery anger takes its place.
They say the opposite of love is indifference, and I’m ashamed to admit that, try as I might, I’m far from indifferent when it comes to Rafael Chiaroscuro—no matter how much I wish I were.
This was such a bad idea.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
My father gestures toward me, breaking through my spiraling thoughts, and I suck in a ragged breath as he says, “Aisling has agreed to marry you. The union will solidify our alliance and make our loyalty unbreakable.”
Raf laughs, the sound cold and so unlike the sound I recall from our passionate nights together. “Unbreakable? You’re selling your daughter and want to call that proof of loyalty?”
His mocking disdain lights my temper on fire. Because my family would never sell me.
This is a decision we made together.
But a man like Raf would never understand that kind of loyalty, and I can see it as clear as day as I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m no one’s possession to be sold,” I snap, then take another deep breath before my emotions can run away with me.
My father rises from his chair, adjusting his cufflinks casually, though I can see the tension in his shoulders.
He’s ready to put a fist in Raf’s face for such a brash statement. “We’ll leave you two to discuss it.”
A concession my father agreed to before we left the house, though I know he’s loath to leave me alone with the Chiaroscuro Don.
His blue eyes, so like mine, catch and hold my gaze, his hand falling softly on my shoulder as he silently lends me strength. Then he, Ryan, Cillian, and Patrick step from the room.
Pulse hammering with fury that just barely masks my nerves, I turn to find Raf studying my face with an intensity that unnerves me.
I don’t like the way he makes me feel, and I fold my arms across my chest, wielding my anger defensively. “You’re staring,” I point out, ignoring the shiver that runs down my spine.
“I’m trying to decide whether this is a nightmare,” he says, but a hint of playfulness laces his tone.
“You always did have a flair for dramatics,” I counter flatly.
That earns me a humorless smile. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Glaring, I fight the urge to cross the room and slap him. “And whose fault is that?”
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
The tension in the air feels thick enough to choke on, and I lift my chin as Raf appraises me—like one might consider a brood mare before deciding to buy it.
But I’m not interested in becoming anything of the sort for this pompous, self-centered prick. I’m here for my family—because no one gets to use us and toss us aside without facing the consequences.
Not Rafael Chiaroscuro.
And most definitely not Tatsuo Tanaka.
“So,” Raf finally says. “You came all this way to play house with me?”
Cute.
He still thinks he’s so clever.
But he has no idea what drives me.
And it’s certainly not the thought of being trapped in a house with him. “I came here for my family,” I clarify. “But I have a counteroffer to my father’s proposal. One that stays between you and me.”
Raf’s brow lifts, that rakish look of surprise uncovering the features I so recklessly fell for five years ago. “Do tell,” he insists, the laughter in his tone bordering on bitter.
I step closer, balling my fists so I don’t do anything stupid—like try to strangle him. Or wipe that smug smirk off his lips. “We fake it.”
Raf blinks, confusion flitting across his strong, masculine features, and a tendon pops beneath the dark stubble on his cheek. “Fake what?”
“The marriage,” I say. “We make it look real. Our families get their alliance. You can trust that my father will stand behind vows said before God. Then, when the Yakuza start losing ground and when the war’s over—we walk away. A clean break.”
Amusement tugs at Raf’s lips. “You think it’ll be that easy?”
To walk away from him?
I did it once before.
I can do it again.
But that’s not what he’s asking.
He’s asking if I can pretend to be with him, to do a relationship with the man who broke my heart, knowing that it’s all pretend. “Nothing about this is easy. But it’s smart. You get your revenge. We get ours.”
He tilts his head, intrigued. “You want revenge?”
As if I can’t want something because it was done to my family rather than myself.
Of course I want revenge.
I love my family.
I would do anything for them.
And the Tanakas promised my father compensation for his support.
But when the bill came due, it would seem their word is as useless as their friendship.
“The Yakuza promised my family territory. Power. Then they reneged. They stole from us too.” My voice dips lower, quieter.
“You’re not the only one who’s lost something. ”
Emotion flickers across Raf’s face, there and gone before I can interpret it.
He studies me silently for another long moment, as if assessing the veracity of my determination.
“And why,” he asks quietly, “should I trust you? You don’t exactly have a history of being honest with me.”
My jaw tightens, the barb cutting deeper than I would like. But he has no right to hate me for what I did.
Not when he’s guilty of the same thing.
He’s a hypocrite, a liar, and I won’t fall for his honeyed words again.
“You can trust me to do what’s right for my family. And I think I’ve proven that when the time comes, I can walk away.”
Raf leans back against the edge of his desk, mirroring my posture as he folds his arms. “You do realize what you’re proposing. You’d be tying yourself to a man you don’t love for a war that might kill us both.”
My chin lifts defiantly. “Who says I want love?” Then I temper my anger and take a slow, steadying breath. “You owe me this much, Raf.”
He has the audacity to look taken aback. “Owe you?”
“Yes. You. Owe. Me. And you don’t get to refuse me now.”
The air between us shifts, thick with old heat and something I can’t name.
Emotions dance through Raf’s hazel eyes, dark and roiling as they seem to tumble against one another like sand caught in a wave.
Then he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he drops his gaze. “You think this’ll work?”
Is he questioning his acting abilities?
Because I know I can hold up my end of the bargain, but maybe three nights is as long as he can pretend to care about someone.
Still, I know the right buttons to push that will get him to agree, and I smirk.
“You tell me. You’re the strategist.”
I don’t expect him to unleash his crooked smile.
But when he does, pushing off his desk to step closer, it does dangerous things to my insides.
“All right,” he agrees. “We fake it. But you play your part, Aisling. You’ll wear my ring, sit at my side, attend every meeting. The world will believe you’re mine.”
“Done,” I concede, and because I can’t stand to be in his presence for a moment longer—not after the haunting smell of amber, bergamot, and cedarwood reaches my nose—I brush past Raf toward the door.
“I’ll tell my father you agreed,” I say without looking back.
“And don’t worry, Rafael. I’ll play the perfect wife. ”
I don’t have time to recover as the door shuts behind me.
My father and brothers, along with a platoon of Miko Novikov’s men, are waiting for me in the hall.
So I force my shoulders down and plaster on a smile.
“It would seem we have a wedding to arrange.”
Shock flits across the adopted Chiaroscuro brother’s face, and his eyebrows press into a deep frown, but the relief in my father’s eyes makes it all worth it, and he cups my chin affectionately.
“Your mother will be thrilled.”
I nod, swallowing down the guilt and bile that threaten to choke me at the knowledge of what I’ve done.
It’s the first time I have ever deliberately deceived my family, but I know it was the only way I could get Raf to agree to the proposal.
Hopefully, they’ll forgive me for the transgression when they see it was necessary in the long run. “Then we'd better not keep her waiting.”
The procession back through the house is less tense than the one going in, but it’s not lost on me that Miko stays behind, stepping into his brother’s office as soon as we depart.
Sandro Chiaroscuro, identical to Raf except for the nautical star tattooed below his right eye, watches us from the stairs as we enter the foyer.
His gaze is softer than his twin brother’s—and infinitely darker.
It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Because I know Sandro’s reputation—and if he considers me or my family a threat to his brother, there’s no doubt in my mind that he could, and would, kill us with his bare hands.
His eyes say as much, though he hasn’t spoken more than three words since we walked through the front door.
I find it fascinating to see how close the Chiaroscuro brothers are—and yet Raf doesn’t understand why I would marry him for my family’s sake.
Then again, I suppose I’ll be the one stepping into the wolf’s den for this alliance.
So perhaps Raf isn’t too far off to think I’m crazy.
Maybe I am.
Because I’ve just agreed to marry a man I hate—all to teach the Tanakas a lesson.