Ellie
I know the moment he enters the kitchen because the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Papa!” Oliver grabs the picture he’s drawn and holds it up proudly to show him. He’s a smaller version of Rafael, a softer one, and I want to keep him that way. His dark eyes shine with a love that’s missing from Rafael’s despondent ones, and his dark hair is fluffy to the touch, a contrast to the way his father’s is slicked back.
Rafael rests a hand on my shoulder, and his touch burns through my blouse, causing my skin to blaze. I peer up toward him as he stares at Oliver’s drawing. His eyes narrow and his nose scrunches up slightly.
“It’s a dog,” I whisper, and his lip turns up at the side, but he remains silent.
“Tell him it’s good.” I nudge, and without thinking, I press a kiss to his tattooed hand. His body stills, and I instantly regret it, quickly darting my eyes away.
He must think I’ve become needy. It was just a blow job to him, no matter how much it meant to me.
He clears his throat. “That’s incredible, Oliver. Does the dog have a name?”
Oliver’s eyes light up and his smile becomes wider, making me fall in love with the mini-Rafael all the more. “Bru-Bru.” I know exactly the word he’s trying to say because we’ve spent the past half an hour choosing names for the adorable messy pet drawing.
He looks at me for guidance. “Nice and slow, Oliver. You got this, little man.”
He nods, then takes a deep breath and points at the dog. He speaks so clearly he shocks me. “Bruno.” More importantly, he shocks Rafael, causing his body to jolt. Then the most incredible, genuine smile spreads over his face and he rushes toward Oliver, kneeling on the floor so that they’re eye level.
He ruffles his hair. “Bruno, huh? Bruno is amazing. Isn’t Bruno amazing, Ellie?” His dark eyes are full of striking passion as he looks to me.
“Definitely. I think that drawing deserves an ice cream.” I wink in Oliver’s direction, causing him to spring from his chair and throw his arms around Rafael’s neck. He rears back as if he’s been electrocuted, and I brace for the moment he rejects Oliver.
It’s clear there’s a disconnect between them, that this Mafia persona of his has carried over into his personal life, and I hate that for him, for both of them.
I know as well as anyone how an absent parent can make you feel so alone, unwanted, and I want no child to feel that way, let alone the little boy who has captured my heart.
Rafael closes his eyes and rests his hand on Oliver’s back, and I melt on the spot.
Deciding to give them a moment, I slide off my chair and head toward the freezer, taking it upon myself to search for ice cream.
Opening each drawer, my shoulders slump. “What’s wrong?” The chill of the open freezer door is extinguished with Rafael’s warmth beside me.
“You don’t have any ice cream,” I whisper while glancing at Oliver, who is now drawing another picture.
“Oh. I don’t think that’s something the chefs ever created.”
Spinning, I turn to face him and stare into his handsome face. He sighs heavily. “I have a nutritionist create Oliver’s diet plan. I don’t think it’s on the plan.”
My mind whirls with what he’s trying to tell me. “He has allergies?”
Rafael rears back on his heels. “No, he doesn’t have fucking allergies.” He drags a hand over his head, then places his hands behind his neck. “I don’t think he does.”
I lick my lips, unsure of whether to suggest something.
Rafael looks at Oliver, who beams at his picture, then back toward me. Concern etches Rafael’s face, and his reaction sends a wave of love through me. “Tell me what to do here, Ellie.” He bites into his lip, and his chest heaves.
The Mafia man that commands men and kills them too, the same man who runs illegal businesses, fears letting his son down over ice cream.
“Call your nutritionist, make sure he doesn’t have allergies. If he doesn’t, I’ll arrange for a delivery.” Rafael’s shoulders relax, and he nods while typing furiously on his phone. “Does he have a favorite flavor?”
His dark eyes rise from the phone, and he stares at me with bewilderment written all over his face. I wave the question off. “It’s fine. I’ll order a selection.” I shrug with a smile.
Before I know what’s happening, he strides toward me, making me stumble back against the freezer door. My hands slam against each side to hold me upright. I crane my neck to look up at him, and he bends, covering my lips with his.
My heart hammers furiously and my hands find his shirt, anchoring me to the spot as his tongue lashes against mine, fighting for the control he commands, and I let him take everything he wants from me while I hold on for dear life.
A whimper erupts in my throat, and he swallows that too. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless, and so is he. Our chests rise as if we’ve been running for miles, and my hands slip from his shirt. He traces a finger down my cheek. “You’re so fucking delicious, Little Doll. I can’t wait to devour you, to break you.” The way his eyes drill into mine is like a warning, a promise of what’s coming, and I couldn’t be any more ready for it.
Because one thing is for sure, I can’t wait for Rafael Marino to break me.