Chapter 47
Raffaele
The yacht rocks gently beneath my feet as I stare at Andrea’s phone, the evidence glaring back at me from the screen with the harsh clarity of betrayal.
We’ve been on the ocean for almost twenty-four hours, and it’s the first time I’ve had the time to look into this. Well, the first time I’m making time for it. Because there were plenty of opportunities in the past week. But that time was for Alina and nothing else.
My jaw locks, muscles tensing to the breaking point as Colin scrolls through the messages again. The tropical sun beats down on the deck of The Artemis, but the heat spreading through my chest has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with rage.
“So that’s it? The connection I never knew was there.” I take the phone from Colin, examining the screen myself as if staring at it longer might somehow change what I’m seeing. The betrayal is laid bare in texts and calls. All pointing to how Andrea found out about our wedding date.
Colin nods, his expression grim. “Looks like it.”
I scroll through the messages again, my blood turning to ice despite the tropical heat. The words are mundane, almost casual. But their implications tear through me like bullets.
“Fuck.” The word escapes through gritted teeth.
Colin shifts his weight, eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting threats to materialize from the endless blue. “What do you want to do about it, boss?”
I lock Andrea’s phone and slide it into my pocket. Evidence. Proof of how my life nearly shattered because… because fucking what?
“I remember breaking into Alina’s phone back in February,” I say, my voice quiet but sharp as a blade. “Her password was the date Sophia died. So fucking predictable. I thought then how people’s sentimentality makes them vulnerable.”
The memory of that night feels like it belongs to another lifetime. When she was just a debt to collect, not the center of my universe. Before I knew what it meant to feel that sinking horror of almost losing her.
“And now?” Colin prompts when I fall silent.
“Now I see her sentimentality struck again.” I stare out at the endless expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon. “But so did mine.”
The realization sits heavy in my chest. I brought Alina to the island—my mom’s sanctuary. The place Andrea knew meant something to me. My own sentimentality created the perfect target.
“I put her at risk,” I admit, the words tasting bitter. “By bringing her there. By thinking we could have something untouched by all this shit.”
Colin knows better than to offer empty reassurances. Instead, he waits, solid and steady, as I pull out my phone and dial Matteo.
He answers on the first ring. “About fucking time,” he gripes. The entire family already knows everything thanks to the daily updates they demand. “How’s our little baker?”
“Recovering.” I keep my voice neutral, aware of Alina napping below deck. “Listen, I need you to handle something.”
I explain what needs to be done. Luckily, Matteo doesn’t need everything spelled out. He understands the language of retribution as well as I do.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks when I finish. I can almost see him running a hand through his hair, his mind already mapping out the most efficient path to destruction. “We’re talking about—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in. “The evidence is clear.”
“Raven and Piper will want in on this,” Matteo says after a pause. “You know how they get when one of their own is threatened.”
Actually, I don’t know. But I have no trouble imagining it.
The thought of my cousins’ wives—especially heavily pregnant Raven—involving themselves in this mess makes me grimace. But I also know better than to underestimate either woman.
“You’d allow Raven to be involved?” I ask.
Matteo scoffs. “If it were up to me, fuck no,” he growls. “But I know she won’t take lightly to being excluded, which will upset her, and then I’ll have to spend weeks paying for it. Seems easier to go together.”
“Fine,” I concede. “But they follow your lead. This stays contained.”
“I’ll get them, myself, and Enzo on it right away. Remus is in Rome taking care of Andrea’s estate and all that shit.”
I forgot about Remus leaving after assuring me he’d make sure everything was handled. As a Russo, Andrea was supposed to be buried in the family crypt. What a shame there was no body found to do anything with.
“Good.” The yacht dips slightly as a wave passes beneath us.
“And you?” Matteo asks, his tone knowing. “What will you be doing while we’re taking care of the dirty work?”
I watch a seagull circle overhead, diving occasionally toward the water. A predator patient for the perfect moment to strike. “I’ll handle this personally when we get back. But first, I need to talk to Alina.”
“She doesn’t know yet?”
“No.” The thought of telling her makes my stomach twist. “She’s been through enough. I’ll tell her before we reach Cleveland.”
“Better from you than someone else,” Matteo agrees. “But don’t wait too long. News travels.”
After ending the call, I lean against the railing, letting the salt spray cool my face. Colin stands silently nearby, giving me space without leaving his post.
I pull out Andrea’s phone again, staring at the screen until it blurs.
The betrayal burns in my chest, a living thing with teeth and claws. When we get back to Cleveland, I’ll tear the truth from the source. I’ll make them understand exactly what happens to people who threaten what’s mine.
But for now, I need to figure out how to tell my wife. And that starts by joining her in our cabin and waking her from her afternoon nap.
The cabin is bathed in golden afternoon light as I ease the door open, careful not to let it creak. Alina lies asleep on the massive bed.
I pause in the doorway, allowing myself this moment to simply watch her. I smile as my eyes catch the spray of freckles across her nose, they’re more visible now that color has returned to her face.
Even in sleep, with one arm in a cast, and hair missing from where they shaved her, she’s the most beautiful thing in my world. Also, the most dangerous. The only person who could destroy me completely just by leaving.
I step inside and close the door behind me, moving silently across the plush carpet. The master suite of The Artemis rivals most luxury hotel rooms, with its king-sized bed and panoramic windows that offer endless views of blue water. But my eyes are fixed only on her.
After just one day at sea, she looks better. The shadows beneath her eyes have lightened, and her breathing is deep and steady. The doctors were right—each day brings visible improvement.
Still, the memory of her body colliding with that car haunts me, makes my fingers curl into fists as I struggle to control the rage that still simmers beneath my skin.
I sit carefully on the edge of the bed, and she stirs immediately, her body somehow attuned to my presence even in sleep. She stretches like a cat, her good arm extending above her head before her eyes flutter open.
For a fraction of a second, there’s confusion in those pale blue depths, but when they focus on me, her lips curve into a smile. No fear. No hesitation. Just recognition and something that looks dangerously close to happiness.
“Hey,” she murmurs, voice still thick with sleep.
“Hey yourself,” I respond, my hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “How long have you been out?”
She glances at the porthole window, gauging the light. “An hour, maybe? I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
I chuckle because we both know that’s a lie. “You’re supposed to rest.” I let my fingers trail down her cheek, unable to stop touching her now that she’s awake.
“Yeah, yeah, doctor’s orders,” she says with a huff.
Grinning, I tilt her chin up so her eyes meet mine. “Actually, those are your husband’s orders.”
She blushes and bites her lower lip. “I feel like all I do is sleep.”
“How are you feeling after your nap?”
“Better,” she admits as she shifts slightly, testing her body’s responses. “I think. The headache’s almost gone.”
Relief washes through me, though I keep my expression neutral. “Good. Want to sit up?”
When she nods, I slide an arm behind her shoulders, supporting her as she eases into a sitting position against the headboard. My hand lingers at the small of her back, my thumb stroking the strip of skin where her top has ridden up.
The contact sends a jolt of heat through my palm, and I have to force myself not to tighten my grip. She adjusts her position, wincing slightly as her cast catches on the sheet. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Without a word, I stand and help her to her feet. She’s steadier now than she was just a few days ago, but I keep my arm around her waist as she walks the short distance to the en-suite. At the door, she hesitates.
“I can manage from here,” she says, a flush creeping up her neck.
“You sure?” I search her face for signs of dizziness or pain.
“Yes.” Her smile is soft but firm. “I’ll call if I need you.”
I release her reluctantly, stepping back but leaving the door ajar. While she’s inside, I move to the window, staring out at the endless blue horizon while my mind churns with what I need to tell her. The knowledge of betrayal burns in my chest like acid.
The bathroom door opens again, and Alina emerges looking slightly fresher. She has splashed water on her face and attempted to smooth her hair.
She walks back toward me with careful steps, and I watch every movement like a hawk, ready to catch her if she falters. But she makes it to me without incident, stopping when our bodies are inches apart.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs, her good hand coming to rest on my chest.
“Can’t help it.” My voice drops lower as I reach for her, my fingers finding the delicate line of her collarbone. “You’re mine to look at.”
Her breath catches, and something shifts in the air between us. I trace my fingertips along her neck, up to cup her cheek. My thumb brushes across her lower lip, feeling it tremble beneath my touch.
“Raffaele,” she whispers. “Please stop holding back. Kiss me, husband.”
“But the doctor—”
She interrupts me. “Your wife just ordered you to kiss her,” she purrs, licking her lips.
I lean down, capturing her mouth with mine. The kiss starts gentle. I’m still terrified of hurting her, but when her lips part beneath mine, inviting me deeper, restraint fractures.
My hand slides into her hair, careful to avoid the bare spot, while my other arm wraps around her waist, drawing her flush against me. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat that sends blood rushing to my cock, hardening it against her stomach.
I should pull back. She’s still healing, still fragile. But when her good hand slides under my shirt, nails scraping lightly against my abdomen, rational thought threatens to abandon me entirely.
Her body presses closer, seeking more contact, and I respond instinctively by walking her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed. We sink down onto the mattress together, my larger frame carefully positioned to avoid putting pressure on her injured arm.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathes against my lips. “Missed this.”
I growl in response, my hand sliding up her side to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her top. Her nipple hardens instantly beneath my palm, and she arches into the touch with a gasp that nearly undoes me.
But behind the haze of desire, the conversation I need to have with her looms like a shadow. The betrayal I’ve discovered. The hurt it will cause her. I can’t put it off any longer, not when we’ll be back in Cleveland in a few days.
With monumental effort, I pull back from her kiss, resting my forehead against hers while we both catch our breath. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with want, lips slightly swollen from my attention.
“We need to talk,” I say, the words hanging between us like a physical barrier.
The change is immediate. Her smile fades, awareness sharpening her gaze as she recognizes the shift in my demeanor.
“What is it?” she asks, her voice small but steady. “What’s happened?”
I take her hand in mine, steeling myself for the pain I’m about to cause her.