Chapter 4
4
RAFFAELE
C hiara beamed at me for a moment, then her happy gaze shifted to the woman standing beside me. Before I could say a word, my youngest sister practically bounced over to Vivienne and stuck out her hand. “Hi! I’m Chiara! Are you my brother’s girlfriend? What happened to your face?”
“Chiara,” I muttered. “Manners.”
“It’s okay,” Vivienne replied softly. Her voice sounded odd, so I glanced over at her and was relieved to see she was trying not to laugh. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Vivienne. I had a little accident, and your brother is helping me. But no, I’m not Rafa’s girlfriend.”
“Bummer.” Chiara pouted. “ Mamma says he needs a woman to give her grandbabies.”
“ Per l’amor di Dio ,” I grunted, my eyes rolling up to the ceiling.
“And I can’t wait to be an aunt!”
“Enough, Chiara,” I said, my tone firm.
Her face fell, and she dropped her shoulders. “Oops. Sorry. My mouth ran away without my brain again.”
I felt like a monster, so I sighed and crouched down to be closer to Chiara’s height and tugged her into my arms. “I’m working on those babies, sorellina piccola ,” I whispered. She pulled back and stared at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “But that's our little secret, capire ?”
Chiara nodded and clapped her hands excitedly. “I can’t wait—” Then she slapped her hands over her mouth. After a second, she moved them and took a deep, calming breath. “Absolutely.” Then she turned to Vivienne and gave her a sweet smile. “It was nice to meet you, Vivienne. I hope I see you again soon.”
She was trying so hard to be serious and composed that I dared not laugh because I knew it would hurt her feelings. I winked at her and nodded encouragingly, making her beam.
“It was lovely to meet you, too, Chiara,” Vivienne returned with a gentle smile.
My sister gave a jaunty wave before spinning around and taking off—most likely to the kitchen, where she would attempt to bribe the staff for sweets.
“She’s adorable,” Vivienne giggled.
“Most of the time,” I agreed, one corner of my lips tipped up in amusement.
My gaze roved over her face, and I frowned at the reminder of her injuries. She looked about ready to drop, so I scooped her into my arms, ignoring her feeble protest. “Let’s get you settled.”
Across from the front door was a grand staircase that split at the halfway point into two bridal curved stairs. I strode to one side and jogged up to the second floor, turning left at the top and walking down the hall until we reached the right door before setting her on her feet again.
“This is your room,” I told Vivienne as I opened the door to the bedroom attached to mine. For now.
She looked around with an expression of awe. Her plump lips parted, and visions of them wrapped around my cock infiltrated my head.
“It’s amazing,” she whispered.
I shook away the dirty fantasy and tried to focus on her while willing my rapidly growing erection to stand down.
“I’m glad you like it.” The light blue and cream color scheme fit her well, but she was going to look far more spectacular when she was naked and spread out on my dark blue sheets. Fucking hell, I needed to leave before I gave in to my cravings and dragged her to my room where I could spend the night fucking her.
“You must be exhausted, cara . Take a shower, and I will find you something to wear. Are you hungry?”
Vivienne clasped her hands in front of her and grimaced. “Starving. I wasn’t in the mood to eat at dinner. But I really hate for you to go through all this trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble at all, cara . I told you, I will take care of you.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied me as she asked, “Why?”
Because you’re mine, la mia donna .
“I have my reasons,” I said instead.
Vivienne sighed and chuckled softly. “I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to white knight syndrome.”
I fixed my gaze on her, and when her eyes widened a little, I knew she could see some of the danger inside me bleeding through. “Make no mistake, Vivienne. I am no one’s white knight. My soul is as black as they get. But for those who are under my protection, there is nothing I won’t do to keep them safe.”
Vivienne blinked at me, clearly unsure what to do with my answer.
Before I said something else to freak her the fuck out, I pointed at the bathroom entrance. “Take a shower, cara ,” I ordered. “I’ll have food and clothes ready when you are done.”
She hesitated, but when I raised an eyebrow and pinned her with an intense, unreadable stare, she scampered into the bathroom. I waited until I heard the shower turn on before pivoting and stalking out of the room. After closing the door behind me, I turned the lock to make sure she didn’t wander.
The text I’d sent in the car had been to Henry, the man who managed the maintenance for my house, as well as the other buildings that sat on the fifty acres of DeLuca land. I’d instructed him to have someone reverse the lock on Vivienne's door so she didn’t accidentally see something that would send her running or have her call the police before I made her fall in love with me so she would never leave.
Not that calling the cops would do much good. The DeLucas owned 90 percent of Camellia Falls, including the police force. Outside of town, we didn’t have quite as much control, but there were a few precincts in Georgia where we didn’t have someone on the payroll. As for running…she wouldn’t get far because I had no intention of ever letting her go.
I didn’t want to leave her waiting when she got out of the shower, so I headed for my sister’s room while sending a text to Carmen, my housekeeper, and asked her to make a snack for Vivienne.
This house had been in my family for almost one hundred years. My great-uncle Giuseppe had built the first part of it when he moved to Georgia to establish the first southern branch of the Family. He wasn’t married, but as the southern territories expanded, other members of the Family migrated south to run the branches in other states. This meant Giuseppe had many visitors, so he’d added to the house. When he was killed, my father moved here to take over, and after marrying my mother, they’d built the rest of it.
However, ten years ago, my father had made a costly mistake and was now a decade into a fifteen-year sentence. My mother hadn’t wanted to live in this house without him, so I’d built her a smaller one on our land, about a five-minute drive by car or fifteen by golf cart—which was our most common mode of transportation between them. My siblings had moved with her, but they had their own rooms in the mansion as well.
Gabbi, my nineteen-year-old sister, was around the same size as Vivienne, so I raided her closet for pajamas.
I returned to the bedroom with items in hand just as Carmen walked up with fruit, cheese, and crackers. The tray looked as though it might topple the tiny, older woman, but I knew if I tried to help, she’d yell at me like a disobedient toddler. Something she could get away with since she’d been like a second mother to me while growing up.
“ Grazie , Carmen,” I thanked her with a warm smile that was reserved for my mother, sisters, and her.
“You’ve never brought a woman home, ragazzo mio ,” she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.
My expression was blank when I replied, “No, I haven’t.”
Carmen grinned. “Don’t try to pull that boss attitude with me, Raffaele DeLuca. I can see right through your stony exterior. How long have you known her?”
“Tonight,” I answered gruffly.
“Like father, like son,” she teased with a tinkle of laughter.
I shrugged, unbothered by the comparison. “So it would seem.”
It was a story my parents loved to tell. How my father had sworn off women until the day he met my mother at a county fair. She was eighteen, making her thirteen years younger than him, but he still went straight to her father and asked for her hand. As soon as he had permission, my father whisked her off to the courthouse, and I was born just over nine months after they married.
Over thirty years later, and even with my father in prison, they were utterly devoted to each other.
Carmen laughed again. “Best tell your mother before anyone else does, or your ears will be ringing from being boxed before listening to her curse you out in Italian for a couple of hours.”
I winced, knowing she was right, but… “Vivienne should probably know first.”
“Good point. Now open the door so I can set this down—stop trying to help like I’m some kind of invalid, Raffaele!”
Sighing in exasperation, I unlocked the door—ignoring her raised eyebrows—and pushed it open. She knew exactly why the door had been locked.
Carmen set the tray on a beautifully carved oak desk that matched the rest of the furniture in the bedroom. After adjusting it to her satisfaction, she turned around and winked at me as she scrolled to the door and left.
I didn’t hear the shower running any longer, but there was no evidence that Vivienne had come out of the bathroom yet.
The door cracked as if she could read my thoughts, sending a billow of steam rushing out.
“Rafa?” Her head popped out, and she looked around until she spotted me sitting at the desk, eating a grape while texting on my phone. I’d just finished sending a list of items, along with the measurements of Vivienne's dress for size comparison, to a personal shopper who worked exclusively for the Family. Everything would be delivered tonight, and I promised her a thousand-dollar tip if she could get it all situated in the closet without waking up Vivienne.
When I looked up, I nearly choked as the door opened a little farther, showing off Vivienne’s incredible body in nothing but a towel.
“Feeling better, cara ?” I croaked, trying to focus on something other than the lust barreling through me.
“Yes, but um…did you say something about clothes because I’d really rather not put that scratchy dress back on and?—”
I grasped onto her comment like a lifeline because it gave me something else to think about besides what was under the terry cloth wrapped around her.
“Right. Um, yes. I brought you something to sleep in.” The pajamas were a satin sleep set, a tank top and shorts in a deep purple color that would make her blue eyes look amazing. It was going to be pure torture watching her walk around in them, but I wanted to make sure she ate and had everything she needed before leaving her to sleep.
I stood and picked up the clothes from where I’d set them on the dresser, quickly taking them over to her.
Vivienne frowned at the silky pajamas as she took them from me. “These look like they belong to a woman.”
My head cocked to the side, and my mouth curved up a little. “If you’re expecting me to correct you and claim they’re mine, I will have to disappoint you.”
Vivienne didn’t laugh as I’d expected. She stared at me with a furrowed brow, and her blue eyes sparking with what looked like anger, though she was attempting to hide it. “Um, I doubt your wife will be very comfortable with you lending her pajamas to some strange woman.”
It probably made me a bastard, but smug satisfaction settled in my chest when I realized why she was upset. “I’m not married, cara .”
She looked relieved for a second, then her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something disgusting. “I suppose one of the many women who’ve fallen at your feet left those here?”
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t want to make her so angry that she didn’t believe me when I explained. “These belong to my sister, Gabriella. But everyone calls her Gabbi.”
“Your sister?” she squeaked, her cheeks suddenly bursting with color.
“Yes, all of my siblings have a room in this house for when they need it.” I couldn’t stop a wide grin from splitting my face as I trailed a finger along her jaw. “Jealousy is a very good look on you, cara .”
She seemed momentarily stunned as she stared at my face but then shook herself out of it. “I wasn't jealous,” she defended.
I decided not to contradict her. “I haven’t been in a relationship in…well, in a very long time. It’s not easy to trust in my line of work.”
“And what line is that?”
Pushing gently on her shoulder, I urged her to move back into the bathroom. “A conversation for another time, cara . Get changed and come eat.”
It was clear that she wanted to push for more, but the events of the day were clearly catching up with her. Sighing, she shut the door, then reemerged a few minutes later in the pajamas and padded over to the desk while finger-combing her long, damp locks.
“Eat. I’ll see if Gabbi has a brush you can use.”
I jogged back to my sister’s suite and located a comb in her vanity, then returned to Vivienne, who was chewing on a bite of cracker.
“Good girl,” I murmured as I moved around to stand beside her and slowly ran the comb through her hair. She jerked upright and twisted around, peering up at me with a puzzled expression.
“What are you doing?”
My brow rose. “I would have thought that was rather obvious. You must be more tired than I realized.”
Vivienne’s nose crinkled adorably. “I know what you’re doing. I meant, why are you doing it?”
Her genuine astonishment ignited my protective instincts, and I suddenly wanted to have a chat with the mother who had clearly never done something as maternal as brushing her daughter’s hair.
But I kept my tone calm and even when I answered. “Because I want to. Now, eat while I take care of this, then you can go to bed.”
She looked as though she might argue for a second, but when I threaded my fingers through her hair, she let out a happy little sigh and turned around.
When her tangles were gone, she’d eaten enough to satisfy me, so I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to the bed. I pulled back the bedding and set her on the mattress. By the time I’d covered her up, she was already asleep, her breathing deep and steady.
“Get some sleep, angioletta ,” I murmured, brushing her hair away from her forehead before placing a kiss there.
I crossed to the door and turned out the lights before stepping into the hallway, then I shut it and used the key to turn the lock.
Dario was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his expression grim. I had a feeling I knew what was causing his foul attitude, and I wasn’t much in the mood to deal with it.
“Later, fratellino ,” I muttered.
“You don’t want an update on Jimmy?” he asked, barely disguising the sarcasm in his voice.
My feet halted, and I turned my head to level him with an icy stare that had him backing up a step. “Watch it, Dario,” I warned. Brother or not, he was still a lieutenant talking to the underboss.
He silently followed me when I resumed walking, taking us both to my office. Domenico was sprawled on a chair in the corner, reading a book, and didn’t even bother to look up when we entered. But even though he appeared to be engrossed in his novel, people would be utterly shocked to realize that he knew exactly what was happening all around him in great detail.
His brain had an interesting quirk, making him an unparalleled bodyguard and enforcer. He was at his highest level of functioning while multitasking. It was as if he couldn’t go slow enough to handle one thing at a time. So even though I had no doubt that he was ingesting every word he read, I also knew he could tell you exactly what Dario and I were wearing, how our hair was styled, what kind of gun my brother had shoved in his jeans, how many steps it took me to get from the door to my desk, and probably even how many breaths I’d taken since I walked into the room.
“You here to back up my brother?” I asked stonily as I sat in the black leather chair behind my gleaming Peruvian walnut desk.
Domenico lowered his book and shook his head, his expression deadpan. “Here to watch the fireworks.”
“Fuck you,” Dario snapped.
“Not my type, pretty boy. Better luck next time.”
“Enough!” I snarled. Dario and Domenico were both thirty, only a year younger than me, yet they squabbled like children sometimes. It was enough to give me a fucking migraine.
“Spit out whatever it is that you came to say, Dario. It’s been a long-ass day, and I have shit to do before I head to bed.”
“Alone?”
My expression hardened. “Since this doesn’t concern the Family, I fail to see how that is any of your business.”
“You don’t think it concerns the Family? Do you know who she is, Rafa?” my brother barked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
I had received an email from Marco earlier but decided to wait until after Vivienne was taken care of to dive into it. There was no way in hell that our brother would have sent the information to anyone but me—or Nic—so I was curious what Dario knew. “Fucking enlighten me then.”
“Vivienne Blackwell is engaged to Chet Chanler.”
Was engaged, I corrected silently.
“Who?”
“Rafa, you’ve stolen the fiancée of the next governor of Tennessee!”
I scoffed. “First, that man was never going to win. Nic and I have already bought the next governor of Tennessee. Why do you think I was at that dinner tonight, Dario? Several donors were on the fence, and I was persuading them to back our choice.”
“But Chanler still has a stage and a loud fucking bullhorn,” Dario argued. “He’ll bring attention to the Family that we don’t need.”
“Second,” I continued without acknowledging his interruption, “Vivienne’s ex-fiancé could have been Nic, and I would still have taken her.”
Dario reared back as if I’d slapped him in the face.
“If you knew the details, you’d know that Nic would have my balls if I hadn’t. And before you imply otherwise and piss me off even more, he was already going to be my first call tomorrow.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s difficult to understand something when you run your mouth without all the facts,” Domenico drawled.
I shot him a glare, but didn’t shift my main focus from Dario. While I didn’t want to share Vivienne’s situation without her permission, due to Chanler’s visibility, I was a little more understanding of Dario’s concern. “He was abusing her,” I told him.
He took a second to absorb my words, then he lost all his righteous bravado, exchanging it for rage. “What the fuck? How was he hiding this from the press?”
“I’m not sure. Vivienne was too fragile for me to get the whole story out of her tonight. But now you understand why I helped her.”
Dario had the good sense to look chagrined. “I get it. You were just…acting so out of character. You’re never impulsive or rash, which is why Nic trusts you to run the southern branches. When you sent me off to take care of Jimmy, I assumed it was to keep the woman who ran into you from being a witness. Then I found out you brought her home, and I…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to think.”
“I’m still a little confused,” Domenico piped up.
I swung my gaze in his direction and waited.
“Getting her away from the event was necessary, and we would all have done the same thing. But why did you bring her here?”
“Because she belongs to me now.”