Chapter 4
RAFFAELE
Chiara 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, and 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 strolled 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.