Chapter 9 #2
“You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” His mouth tugs up just a little and my insides quiver when he smiles at me that way, all roguish and manly.
“Why is Michael next in line to take over and not you?”
I’ve always wondered since I found out years ago. He’s the oldest. He’s supposed to take over for his father as the head. Michael and his other brother, Gio, are younger. Why does Raph get to be ignored?
His hands still on my arm, but for only a second, and the vein at his neck twitches. Continuing to work, he doesn’t speak for a bit, and when he does, it breaks my heart.
“You know my father hates me. You’ve seen our fights. He’s never loved me, and I’ve accepted that.”
The casual way in which he uttered that shatters me even more.
“How could anyone not love you?” I question with a tear-filled voice.
“Maybe I’m just not easy to love.” The words crumble out of him, and it’s the saddest thing. “Look at your sister.”
He wraps a fresh bandage around my wound and secures it with medical tape.
“She was an idiot,” I admit as he holds out my cardigan to slip into.
If I were her, I’d never betray you.
There’s no way she ever loved him. Not with the way she behaved behind his back.
If anything, she used him for money. Once she started dating him, he paid for every single thing.
She was more than happy to spend his money on expensive shoes and bags.
He never said a word. He treated her well. Better than she deserved.
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” he says. “She’s not here. I can’t ask her why. Why, of all the people in this world she could’ve fucked, did it have to be the one man who despised me?”
Whatever’s left of my heart rips right out of my chest. “Maybe she inhaled too many fumes at the hospital.”
I tighten my mouth with a smile, and he does something crazy, and beautiful and utterly perfect.
He cradles my cheek and grins. Really grins. And not even the sun and the stars can outshine the magic of it.
“You always knew how to make me forget, didn’t you?” he asks, his eyes growing softer.
“Forget what?”
My skin comes alive, every body part awakened to the soulful, desperate tug of our unexplainable, yet deeply woven connection. Like if I reached just far enough, I could grab it and hold on.
“Forget all the awful things.” And those eyes—those big, brown eyes—do something that completely breaks my heart: they grow sad.
I place my hand on top of his and draw in closer, so close that he could kiss me at any moment. His gaze drops to my lips, and my pulse quickens.
Will he do it? Will he give in? Will he kiss me?
“You made me forget too. You made me feel seen.” My voice drifts with a whisper.
“I still see you, little one.” His thumb rubs the corner of my mouth.
A chill scurries down my spine.
“Just not in the way you want.”
And there it is. There’s that slam to my gut I was waiting for.
RAPH
I see the instant her face hardens, the very moment I say those last few words.
But I had to. I can’t make her believe there’s a future for us, even while every damn molecule inside my body screams to make her mine.
It’s difficult to stop my body from reacting or my heart from wanting her. My mind isn’t strong enough to resist this pull between us.
Her arms fold around her small frame while we’re both still seated, as though protecting herself from me.
That would be wise. Doesn’t she realize how dangerous a life with me would be? Just look at Bianca. My own father killed her. Why would she want to be tied down to a life like that? Even if our age wasn’t a factor, that alone would be.
“This is for you,” I tell her, reaching into my pocket and handing her a burner phone.
Michael supplied me with a lot when I first began to live off the radar.
I’ve gotten used to being on my own. But I miss working alongside my brothers.
Miss my family, especially my six-year-old niece, Sophia.
She’s the light of the family. Years beyond her age.
The stuff that comes out of her mouth…I don’t know where she comes up with it.
I still remember when Michael brought her home. She’s been part of our family ever since, as though she was born of our blood. But blood doesn’t mean shit to me. My father is a prime example of how little that matters.
“Why do I need a phone?” Her eyes flash with worry.
“Just in case I have to go somewhere and need to reach you.”
Alarm settles behind her gaze as it widens a fraction. “You’re planning on leaving me alone?”
“Hey…” I place a palm on her shoulder.
There I go, touching her again when I have no business doing it. Not with what both of us are clearly feeling for one another.
“You’re safe here. I promise. He doesn’t know about this place. He thinks I’m still at the house I bought in the woods.”
Her brow arches. “Wait, you live in the woods now?”
“Not in the woods.” I chuckle at her incredulous expression. “Just past them.”
“Do you sleep on the floor there too?” She lets out a laugh that jumpstarts my heart and sets all the reasons why we can’t be together on fire.
“No, little one.” I find myself sliding up to her, looking right at her. “I’ve got lots of bedrooms to choose from.”
And I’d like to fuck you in every single one.
“It’s too bad we aren’t hiding out there,” she says with amusement slinking in her stare. “That way you wouldn’t have to sleep the way you are now.”
“No matter where we are, tesoro mio…” My fingers glide down her arm until I hold her hand in mine. “I’ll still lie right on the floor at your feet.”
“Why?” Her gaze penetrates through me, searching for an answer I can only give in half-truth.
“Because…your safety is all that matters to me.”
Because I wouldn’t allow myself to sleep beside you. Because being away from you would be pure and utter torture.
She drags her hand away and glances down at her lap, playing with her fingers.
“Yeah…my safety. Right.” She rises to her feet. “I need to take a shower. Do you have anything I can use?”
Her features turn cold. She’s hiding again. Hiding from me. And knowing I did that…it kills me.
“Yeah…” I reach for her, fingertips almost gliding up her skin, not wanting her to go. But before I can touch her again, I pull away. “I have soap.”
“Just soap?” She slants her head. “Do I look like a cavewoman to you?”
No. You look like a lot of things, baby. But a cavewoman is definitely not one of them.
With a long inhale, I grant myself permission to rake my eyes down her body like the animal I am. My cock jerks, needing inside her warmth, wanting her taste on the tip of my tongue.
“I’ll take you to the store now if you want. They should have things for you to stock up on.”
Her eyes pop. “We’re allowed to leave this place?”
“Only for emergencies, and only with me.” I don’t want her getting any ideas. “There’s one store out here that’s within walking distance. It’s got food and clothes too. That way you don’t have to sleep in those tiny shorts anymore.”
Even when I get hard every time I picture you in them. God help you if you wear them for another man.
She purses her mouth, smothering a laugh, but her smile seeps through. “So you mean you didn’t like my shorts?”
She plays with the ends of her hair, and her eyes drop to my cock like she’s begging me to pry her mouth open and have her choking down on it.
“Because I think you did, Raphael. I think you loved it.” Her unbending gaze fastens to mine.
I grit my teeth, barely holding on. Barely able to maintain my own damn sanity. And all she does is push my buttons, waiting for me to pounce.
Instantly, I grab her arm and pull her up against me. She gasps from the quick jerk, fisting my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, lowering my mouth to hers until there’s barely anything separating us. “Is this what you’re going to do the whole time you’re here?” My voice simmers. “Drive me insane?”
I cup the back of her head, and she groans for me while desire roars to life on her features. With a drag of my long and shallow breath, my forehead drops to hers.
“Stop calling me Raphael,” I whisper, my heart pounding. “Call me what you always did.”
“Why should I?” She pushes me back with both palms, and I let her. Her expression turns pained. “That name is reserved for your friends, and you and I? We’re not friends anymore.”
And those words? They cut into me like a sword of my own creation.