Chapter 10
10
EMILIA
My eyes slide shut, my body sinking into the floor, completely wrecked. I can’t feel anything—except this heavy numbness spreading through me.
His breath ghosts across my face, blowing strands of my hair into my eyes. I should push it back, but I don’t have the energy. Hell, I don’t even know if I can move anymore.
Then, surprisingly, he does it for me—brushing the hair out of my face with this ridiculous tenderness, like he didn’t just tear me apart, body and soul.
“Are you okay, love?”
I can only manage a soft, “Hmm.” And honestly, what could I even say? I’m too spent, too ruined.
He shifts, pushing away from me. And— click, the handcuffs release my wrists, followed by the soothing sensation of his fingers massaging my skin. Then his warmth disappears, but I catch the sound of his footsteps padding towards the bathroom.
Curiosity nags at me to open my eyes, to see what he’s up to, but my eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. The soft sounds of running water and drawers opening drift to my ears, but I’m too far gone to care. My limbs are dead weight, and I feel like I might pass out right here, fused to the floor.
It’s like he’s fucked me straight into the floorboards.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, I force myself to open my eyes when I sense him re-entering the bedroom. He’s taken off his mask, so I notice the furrow in his brows as he scoops me up. Is he… worried about me? My head lolls against his chest while he carries me into the bathroom and slowly deposits me inside the bathtub. I let out a blissful sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth, allowing the hot water to cocoon my aching body and soothe every muscle.
The tub is too small for the both of us, but Rafael makes it work. He kneels beside it and slowly passes the washcloth over my body with reverent care. I lean back, too exhausted to do anything but let him tend to me.
After he’s washed me, he carries me back to the bedroom and dries my body. Then I watch through half-lidded eyes as he rummages through my closet for some clothes. My brain doesn’t fully compute what’s happening until he’s sliding sneakers onto my feet.
I blink at him, confusion cutting through the post-coital haze.
“Are we going somewhere?” My voice comes out scratchy and hoarse, so I clear my throat.
He glances up at me with a determined look on his face, “Yes. We’re going home.”
“I am home.” I point out, which earns me an irritated glare.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to accept my proposal, Emilia. And tonight, you’re coming home with me. Tomorrow, we’ll come back for your shit.”
A spark of defiance flares in me. “You can’t just order me to marry and move in with you. It doesn’t work like that. And I think I’d like to sleep in my own apartment.” But even to my own ears, my voice lacks conviction. Darn it.
He ignores my protests, just wordlessly tying my laces before moving to the other foot. “Rafael...”
“You’re coming home with me tonight, Emilia—kicking or screaming. Arguing won’t change that. I’ll carry you over my shoulders if I have to.” The sternness in his tone and tight set of his jaw tells me he means every word.
The fight drains out of me. Maybe he really did fuck the resistance right out of my body. “Fine.” I concede with a sigh. I can always argue more in the morning when my brain’s functioning again. “But we need to bring the takeout I bought with us. It’s probably cold by now, but I can warm it when we get to your place.”
A victorious smirk plays on his lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss on my temple, sending warm fuzzies through my body. I shuffle to the closest to grab my coat and shrug it on. Then he grabs a hold of my hand, linking our fingers together, and my heart does a little flip.
We leave my apartment and hop in the elevator to the basement level, where the condo’s parking lot is. He leads me past a row of cars to a sleek, black, BMW. My jaw practically drops. “This is your car? Holy hell, it’s gorgeous!”
His grin is boyish and proud as he hits the key fob. With a soft beep, the car unlocks, the lights flashing like it’s showing off for me. He opens the passenger door, and I slide in eagerly, inhaling the intoxicating mix of that new leather smell and Rafael’s cologne. It feels like luxury and danger all rolled into one.
My hands roam over the sumptuous brown leather interior and the sleek touchscreen dashboard, admiring every detail.
“Buckle up, Emilia.” Rafael reminds me as he settles into the driver’s seat. I comply, but continue my tactile exploration of the car’s interior.
The ignition turns, and the engine comes alive with a low, vibrating rumble that seems to resonate through my entire body, and I giggle, kicking my feet out like an excited child. “Can I drive it later?” I ask, turning towards him with hopeful eyes.
“Absolutely not,” he answers without hesitation, and I smirk.
“Are you sure about that, baby?” I place my hand on his thigh, and he immediately goes stiff. He throws a sharp glance my way, and I freeze. Oh shit, too much? “Is this… okay?”
His brows pull together, his jaw clenching tightly, but after a tense moment, he gives a curt nod and shifts his gaze back to the road. I exhale a quiet breath, relieved, and resume my gentle caress, tracing soothing circles on his thigh. My heart is hammering like crazy. He’s actually letting me touch him. Again.
Slowly, careful not to break whatever fragile trust this moment holds, my hand drifts up his leg, then higher to his hard chest, up his collarbone and along his hard jaw. When I graze his day-old stubble with my fingertips, my breath catches, remembering the way he tensed before, how his cock twitched inside me. At first, I wanted to initiate something sexual, but now it feels too special for that. I’m really touching him again.
And somehow, it feels even more intense now.
My fingers circle the shell of his ear, then glide over his brows, before they slip into his hair. God, his hair is still just as soft. I gently rub the pad of my fingers over his scalp, back and forth, half-expecting him to purr like he did before. Instead, a low groan rumbles through him, and suddenly his left hand flies off the steering wheel, grabbing my wrist.
“Enough of that,” he says huskily. “Don’t distract the driver.”
He nips my fingertips, then links our fingers together and rests them on his thigh. My heart swells with emotions for him. Affection, desire… maybe even love .
The words bubble up in my throat, but I swallow them back painfully. No, it’s too soon to be feeling any of that. Sure, he’s basically browbeating me into moving in with him and has flat-out proposed, but he hasn’t said a single word about love either. Not really. ‘Little love’ doesn’t count, right? Amorina is most likely nothing more than a pet name to him.
Besides, I'm in no position to discuss my feelings with him right now. Not when I’m keeping this huge secret—when I’m actively betraying him. Once I get to the bottom of this and prove his innocence to Stacey, I’ll come clean about everything. He’ll understand. He will. He will. He has to.
We stay hand in hand for the entire drive to his apartment—a towering skyscraper off Madison Avenue that screams luxury and power.
“Welcome back, Mr. Moretti.” A hulking man in a bulletproof vest holds the glass door open for us. I frown, taking in the lobby. At least four more men, equally imposing, stand at strategic points. Their jackets bulge suspiciously, and I’d bet my last dollar they’re packing some heat.
Who wears a jacket indoors?
Rafael leads me to the elevators, seemingly oblivious to my growing unease, and presses the P for penthouse. As we ascend, I bite my lip, debating whether to mention those men downstairs. What would I even say? ‘Hey, what’s with the small army in your lobby?” But what if they’re not related to him? Maybe they’re just building security. I nod to myself, deciding to let it go. For now.
The elevator doors slide open into a large hallway, and I freeze. Men with AK-47s and pistols on their hips patrol the hall like it’s a military compound.
“It’s okay, amorina. ” Rafael grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator. “They’re with me.”
They’re with him. Oh God, he really is back in the mafia now . My grip on his hand tightens as we walk past the armed men, not because I’m scared of them, no, because I’m scared of what this means. What if, in my bid to prove his innocence, I stumble onto evidence of other crimes? Or worse… what if he really is guilty?
I scan the hallway, cold fear seeping through my veins and down my spine as, for the very first time, I’m forced to face a thought I’ve been avoiding—what if it turns out he isn’t innocent after all? No, he is. He’s innocent. He has to be.
Still oblivious to my inner turmoil, Rafael nods at the men as he opens the front door. It’s not even locked. But of course, with the mini-army patrolling the hallway and lobby, I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to attempt a break-in.
We walk through the foyer, and for a second, I’m distracted from my worries by the sound of voices coming from the living room. More men? Rafael pushes open a glass door, revealing three men inside.
One is sitting crossed-leg on the floor, typing furiously on a laptop, his back is to me. Another lounges on the sofa, holding up a newspaper like he’s actually reading it. And the third occupies an armchair, flipping through what looks like legal documents. All three stop what they’re doing and turn their attention to us as we enter, and my jaw drops in recognition.
“Maximo! Romero! Michael!” I wiggle out of Rafael’s hand and rush towards them, grinning wide. In an instant, my fears are swept away by a tidal wave of joy as, for the first time in five years, I’m face to face with my friends—no, my brothers.
They leap to their feet, shouting my name as they bundle me in a tight hug, and I laugh waterlily, stretching my arms as wide as they can go, trying to embrace all three at once.
But then Rafael’s hand settles on my back, gently extracting me from the tangle of limbs and into his chest. “What are you assholes doing here?”
“Well, I discovered more about the–” Michael starts, only to trail off with a pointed cough, his light blue eyes flicking to me. “We needed to discuss a course of action for that… thing, so we came over to wait for you.”
Thing?
Frowning, I glance between them. It’s painfully obvious they don’t want me in on whatever they’re talking about.
“You should have called me,” Rafael grumbles, sinking into the other armchair and dragging me into his lap like I’m some sort of plush toy.
The guys are practically staring holes into us, their curiosity written all over their faces, and I feel my cheeks flame under the weight of it. I start to get up, but Rafael clamps his arm around my waist, locking me in place. “It’s fine, amorina,” he says casually, like it’s nothing. “They know about us.”
Oh great, perfect. Totally fine.
They awkwardly clear their throats, looking anywhere but at us now, and I bury my face in my hands. This is not how I imagined our reunion to go. How humiliating. As I peek through my fingers at the three of them, a touch of melancholy tempers my happiness. Even though I still care about them, they’re no longer the eighteen-year-old boys I knew and lived with. They seem… harder now, colder .
What happened after I left?
The awkward silence stretches, until Michael suddenly glances up at me with a small smile. “Hey, want to play my game?”
My hands drop, and my excitement returns full force. “Wait—you released it?” Michael has always been a tech whiz, constantly talking about his dream of someday releasing a fantastical war game. The guys used to tease him mercilessly, but he never let it deter him.
“A few days ago, baby,” he says with a grin, getting up to hook the huge plasma TV up. He connects the wires quickly, then picks up four controllers from the console. “Only brought four, though, so Rafael will have to sit this one out.”
“Oh no, I’m so hurt.” Rafael deadpans behind me, and I can’t help but giggle as I push off his lap. This time, he lets me go, but I can still feel his gaze tracking me like a damn hawk as I accept one of the controllers from Michael. He keeps one for himself and tosses the other two to Maximo and Romero.
Okay, this feels better. Like old times. Well, almost.
My grin widens, heart pounding in excitement as the game launches on the screen. An epic theme song blasts through the room, and the dark screen morphs into a breathtaking 3D image of the galaxy, featuring a massive horned man armed with a gun and a rocket pack.
“Wow. It looks so good already,” I say, nudging Michael with my shoulder. He tosses me a boyish grin as he pushes his dirty blonde hair away from his face.
“Five million people across the globe agree with your assessment, amorina . That’s how many downloads the game’s got so far.” Rafael calls out from his armchair, sounding proud as hell.
“Keep up, Rafael. As of an hour ago, it’s at six million,” Romero cuts in, sounding equally proud.
“Six million and counting,” Maximo adds, snatching up the newspaper he’d been reading earlier. “People are still downloading it like crazy, and it was just featured in The Times as ‘the game that’s taking the city by storm’.” He points to the relevant section, where StarQuest is prominently displayed.
“And it was released less than a week ago? This is huge, Michael. I’m so proud of you.” I grin at him.
He reddens, muttering in that gruff way of his, “Whatever, let’s play.”