Epilogue #2
“Yes, through Quinn and Michelo. Also via email,” he adds flatly. “At least until I informed his prison warden he had contraband electronics hidden in his penthouse.”
I cross the room and stop in front of him, close enough to feel the tension radiating off him.
He’s carried this torment—every ugly, unresolved piece of it—while showing up for me with patience I didn’t fully appreciate until now.
“It’s been months,” I say softly. “Why not go and see him?”
“Why?” His dark eyes meet mine, cold yet full of conviction. “Because I’m not ready to forgive him for what he did to you. I’m not sure I ever will be.”
I step into him, my hands raising to his chest, the deep thud of his pulse beneath my fingers. “I’m sorry I’ve ignored what you must be going through. I—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” His glass clatters to the marble. “He doesn’t get to come between us.”
“He won’t.” My certainty surprises me, but it’s a truth wrenched from the depths of my soul.
Eliseo won’t be our downfall. Neither will my father, our careers, or the criminal ties of Raffael’s heritage.
I stare at him, my heart beating with the conviction that nothing can come between us.
Yes, I have a lot of work to do—on myself, at CrossPoint, with my father, and making amends for the horrible way I treated Quinn. But what I want to work on most is a future with Raffael in it.
I admire him.
Adore him.
Love him.
“I…” I try to say it out loud. To return the reassurance he’s given me since our reconciliation. Yet the confession gets caught on my tongue, the months of therapy having worked to strengthen my sense of self, but evidently not to the extent of unarmored vulnerability. “I have faith in us.”
His lips curve in a knowing smirk, devious and infuriatingly perceptive. “I know.” He palms my hips, dragging me against him. “It’s hard not to notice.” He leans closer, making every nerve come alive as his mouth brushes my ear. “Especially when you moan my name in your sleep.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“I know that, too.” He sobers, pressing a kiss to my neck, soft and reverent, unhurried and so sweetly sincere. “And I’m more than willing to talk about us if that’s what you want. However, you’ve spent weeks avoiding the topic of our future like it’s the plague. I was giving you an easy out.”
And there he is, the man committed to my comfort, even at the detriment to his objectives.
“Truth is, I’m dying to talk seriously about us.” His grip tightens on my waist, then he lifts me, placing me on the counter, the marble cold beneath my thighs. “My restraint on the topic is threadbare.”
“Mmm?” That’s all I can manage as he nestles between my legs, making me simmer. Burn.
“Mmm.” He mimics, his mouth ghosting over mine. “The struggle has been detrimental to my mood. Apparently my staff have expressed concerns. Michelo and Aurelia are calling for intervention.”
“I don’t believe it.” I whimper. “You’re nothing short of charming around me.”
“That’s because when we’re together the world falls into order.” He teases a kiss over my lips. “And when we’re not it’s fucking hell and damnation.”
My body cries out for more.
Moments ago, his suffering inspired heartache. Now it’s intoxicating. Exhilarating.
It’s what he does. Makes extravagant declarations. Indulges in dramatic intensity.
And yes, it leaves me giddy, unmoored, a puddle of wanton need, but it’s nothing more than outlandish flirtation.
He’s too levelheaded to make a relationship his entire personality no matter how convincing the act.
“You don’t believe me,” he murmurs into my mouth. “But I’m running out of ways to pretend I’m not obsessed.”
I smile, indulging just a little in the possessive thrill.
Work has become less effective in distracting me lately. I catch myself counting the hours until I see him. Sleeping alone has become a chore. Life is dull in the moments he’s not in it.
His obsession, unfortunately, is well and truly reciprocated.
“Soon I’m going to insist we return to the boardroom,” he states with delicious authority. “We need to renegotiate our agreement.”
“Why?” My skin tingles against my satin pajamas. “You asked for a chance and I gave it to you. What more could you possibly want?”
“You’re not going to like my answer.” He pulls back and peers down at me, his gaze utterly devastating. Undeniably Raffael. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?”
No.
I swallow. Nod.
His eyes spark with pride as gentle fingers grip my chin, tilting my face to his. He claims my mouth in a destructive kiss, the intimacy so devastatingly toe-curling I’m bereft when it ends.
“What I want is ownership of your surname.” He weaves an arm around my back and drags me to the edge of the counter, where only heat and certainty exist between us. “I want my ring on your finger and my irrevocable enslavement written on paper.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, unprepared for the destabilizing inevitability that hums inside me.
“There’s no term I won’t honor, la mia rovina,” he says without retreat. “Nothing you ask will be refused. I just need to make you my wife. Let me sign it in blood.”
I hope you enjoyed the first book in the Cavallo Brothers series (part of the Hunting Her world).