Chapter 7
SOFIYA
‘You’re an animal.’ A little too late to hide behind insults, but it’s all I have.
‘Sì. And it also looks like I’m an exhibitionist.’ His head tilts in contemplation. ‘Guess I’m learning new things about myself.’
I grit my teeth at his nonchalance. I’ll bet my Cayman Island nest egg that Rafaelle Salvatore knows exactly who he is. What his role is in this insane life we both exist in.
‘I need the bathroom,’ I announce, even though the need is manageable for now. Not so manageable is how wet and sticky I am. How infuriatingly turned on, all it’ll take is a whisper of a touch to make me explode.
He watches me for a moment, and I think he’s going to call bullshit, but he nods. His eyes settle on the cuffs. Then on my attire.
Without speaking, he turns and heads to his closet and returns with a black shirt. It looks expensive.
A dress shirt with long sleeves and pearl buttons. The kind of power shirt men like my father wear to business meetings. Par for the course for a billionaire gangster.
‘There’s minimal trust between us so for now I’m going to help things along, sì?’
There he goes again with hints at the future. I try not to react to it even though my heart jumps. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s means you stay tied while I undress you—’
‘Fuck no.’
‘Or you stay in bed,’ he finishes as if I didn’t speak.
‘Look, Salvatore…’
His slow strangling of his shirt until his knuckles turn white whittles away my response.
He’s visibly struggling with something. Something big and ugly and terrifying.
After a moment he exhales, then grimaces.
‘Call me Rafaelle. Or Rafa. Salvatore makes me think you’re referring to my father.
Or my grandfather. Or any of my uncles or brothers.
Thinking you are makes me imagine your mouth and your teeth on one of them.
The same mouth you just put on me. The mouth I imagined sucking my cock just now.
And, newsflash, it drives me a little nuts, capisci? ’
My mouth has dropped open.
Something wild and electric is moving through me at the blatant display of rampant, unhinged jealousy on his face. ‘But… that doesn’t make sense,’ I stammer anyway. Even though very little makes sense at this point.
He exhales noisily. ‘Let’s establish a baseline of trust, tigra.
You know who I am and have a fair idea of one or two things I can do.
Be assured you have very little inkling of the full extent of my role in this life.
But I will never lie to you. I’ll withhold a fuck lot of things which will probably drive you insane and make you want to bite me some more.
Probably want to kill me too. But until we decide which way things go, you have my word on uncut honesty.
In return, when I ask you to take a thing seriously, I never, ever don’t mean it.
Now, are we doing this or do you want to lie in bed and piss yourself?
’ he asks, blithely ignoring my shock. ‘I’ll be surprised as fuck, but I promise I won’t judge you.
Different kinks for different folks and all that. ’
It’s my turn to draw frantic oxygen. Hope for clarity of thought.
Remind myself that he knocked me out, yes, but he carried me in here, patiently waited for me to wake up and did it all without touching me inappropriately. And call me insane, but that little speech just now? As much as some parts were batshit crazy, I believe him. For the most part.
Whether out of some warped sense of unstated assassin’s creed bullshit, I don’t want to question.
My gaze flicks up to meet his. ‘Fine. Go ahead.’
His nostrils flare briefly, then he places one knee on the bed. He produces the keys to the cuffs and places it next to my pillow.
Then he reaches for the fastener to my suit.
The sound of the lowering zipper fills the room.
His eyes stay on mine long after it’s stopped at my navel. Heating. Heating. Sizzling.
Then they drop.
He slowly parts the sides of the suit without touching my skin and I watch a near feral expression flicker over his face. ‘You always go on a job not wearing a bra?’ There’s a deadly edge in his voice. A resurgence of that neon-green jealousy. Making my tightening nipples turn pebble hard.
‘What’s it to you?’ I taunt, ignoring the husky throb in my voice. The low simmering in my pelvis. The plumping of my pussy as he keeps parting my suit, baring me to his livid gaze.
‘You better be wearing fucking panties, duci,’ he warns, the shimmer of madness now in his voice too.
That manic light flashes once more and I almost regret the scrap of fabric getting steadily drenched between my legs. Because that insane something that made me bite him wants to see his reaction to seeing me without panties.
He finishes parting my suit with a little less care and he exhales audibly when he sees my black thong. He stares at my body for an age before he reaches for the key. He frees one hand and draws the suit off my arm before freeing the other.
The cuffs go back on before he repositions himself at the bottom of the bed and peels the catsuit over my hips and down my legs.
He tosses it away and settles back on his legs.
‘You’re fucking breathtaking.’ His voice is low, thick with savage hunger he’s done pretending to hide.
Dark eyes rake over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorising every inch of skin, every shiver.
There’s a roughness to his tone now, a raw edge that sends a jolt straight through my core.
He steps closer, heat radiating off him in waves.
‘I can’t wait to fuck the hell out of you,’ he murmurs, gaze locked on mine.
‘No games, no weapons, just your tight body wrapped around mine, giving in.’ There’s no mistaking the promise in his voice – or the restraint he’s barely holding on to.
It’s the third time he’s given me hope, and I can’t stop myself. ‘Does that mean you don’t plan on killing anytime soon?’
He drags his gaze from where it was fixed between my legs. I’m thankful the thong is black so he can’t see how wet I am. How turned on by the need in his eyes. He can probably smell me, but I can’t help that.
Those eyes are almost unfocused when they rise to stop at my breasts, linger on my gem-hard nipples before locking on mine. He breathes out long and hard. ‘That, duci, is entirely up to you.’
‘What does that mean?’
He grabs the shirt without answering and goes through the process of feeding my arms through the sleeves before he folds them back so I’m not drowning in it.
I sit up properly for the first time in hours and sway with mild dizziness.
‘Bathroom,’ he says.
He grips my arm, helps me up.
It crosses my mind that now is a good time to break free and make a run for it. But I have no idea where I am and I’m 100 per cent sure the Enforcer has dozens of contingencies in place to thwart any attempt I make.
He leads me to the bathroom and over to the toilet.
My face flames as he drags my thong down to my knees. Then, to my surprise, he turns and walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, leaving me to do my business.
Rafaelle
The call connects on the third ring.
‘Finally.’ Cesare’s voice crackles through the line, tight and sharp. ‘I was about five minutes from sending the capos to drag your ass out of whatever hole you’ve crawled into.’
I lean against the window ledge of the hideaway. The air outside is blue with the hush of impending rain, a storm pressing at the horizon. But it could be the apocalypse for all I take note.
My gaze doesn’t move from the bathroom door.
I saw her surprise when I left her alone to use the facilities.
Even if she could miraculously contort those killer curves between the bars of the bathroom window, the sheer drop beneath it will kill her.
So it’s a good thing I’ve got state-of-the-art alarm bells and whistles to alert me of a breach.
‘Rafa,’ Cesare snaps.
‘Busy week,’ I say.
Understatement of the fucking millennia.
‘You don’t answer for two days straight, not even to tell me you’re alive, and all you have to say is busy week?
’ His voice edges from irritated to genuinely strained.
‘Rafa, Maddie’s not sleeping because of the baby and worrying about whether El Topo’s going to pop his fucking rat head out of the woodwork and try something. You ignoring your phone isn’t helping.’
A pinch forms in my chest. Guilt, maybe.
The real kind. Not the lazy sort I usually let drift through me before brushing it off.
‘I’m alive,’ I tell him. I look down at the bruise that’s beginning to purple and fuck if I don’t feel a punch of something.
Elation? Pride? ‘Mostly intact. Can’t promise anyone else is. ’
‘You’re being cute.’ His tone turns colder. ‘I’m not laughing.’
My own tension ratchets higher. ‘Wasn’t cracking jokes, frate. And I didn’t ask you to.’
He exhales slowly. The scrape of a chair on tile comes through the line. He’s sitting down now. Tired. Probably rubbing that spot above his brow like he does when the pressure builds behind his eyes. ‘Where the hell are you, Rafa?’
‘Upstate. Lying low. Watching some things unfold.’
‘Lying low like recon, or lying low like cleaning blood out of your fingernails?’ There’s suspicion now. Familiar. Brotherly. Sharp as a blade just before it’s sunk into someone’s gut.
He knows me too well. A blessing and a curse.
I pause too long. Cesare picks up on it like a wolf scenting blood. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ he snaps. ‘Don’t lie to me.’
‘I’m not,’ I say, which technically isn’t a lie. ‘It’s… complicated.’
‘Fuck, tell me you didn’t go after Narciso?’ His voice drops, suddenly low, deadly quiet. ‘Rafaelle. Tell me you didn’t make a move without a family green light.’
‘Fuck you. I didn’t kill anyone,’ I reply.
‘Not what I asked.’
I drag a hand down my face. ‘Look, we agreed I would let things be. This is me, letting things be. But if you must know, I have… someone who might be useful. Temporary leverage.’