Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m Going To Regret This
Raf
If I thought her fuck-me boots, short hemlines, and penchant for being a brat were going to be the death of me, then I was entirely unprepared for this version of her, dressed down in denim with her designer fur coat—the one that makes her look like a little bear—a ball cap and trainers.
She looks adorable as fuck as she bounces down the stairs from Arabella’s apartment to where I’m waiting in the car with the driver.
I know I was completely insensitive earlier, telling her last night was a mistake and out of character.
I saw the way her face dropped even though she fought back like some goddamn psychotherapist calling me out on my bullshit.
The reality is, it was the best sex of my life and I feel like an asshole for not acknowledging it.
There was some truth in what I said though; pushing the boundaries like that with her was out of character because I’ve never felt enough of a connection with someone before to lean into my dominant desires, to be so uninhibited.
Sex with Juliette was never boring, but it was the epitome of a quick fuck.
Two busy people who wanted a release, no strings, no complications.
Purely physical. Last night was different, like I had met my match.
She stoked an insatiable craving with her willingness to give me all the depraved things I wanted from her, not only because she wanted to please me, but because she wanted them too.
So no, crossing the line with her wasn’t what scared me.
It was the complete and utter sense of wholeness that followed, knowing how easy it could be with her but not trusting myself to have it, knowing that if I let her in, the temptation to believe I could have it all—the wife, the beautiful home, the family—would be too big a dream to resist.
I push all the thoughts back down where they belong and remind myself of the plan. Let her stay until she finds an apartment. Throw yourself into work. Don’t cross the line again. Do whatever it takes to keep her out of an arranged marriage.
“Sorry, sorry! I was quickly gathering things so we can organize everything to be picked up and delivered to your house,” says Chiara as she slides in closer than she needs to be. “Ohhh, when I say it like that, I kinda feel like we’re an official couple,” she adds with a smirk, baiting me.
I cannot bite, even if I feel like I’m being lured in more ways than one.
Her cute outfit for starters and the natural-makeup look that has me zeroing in on her soft lips.
In place of her usual red lipstick is a light pink gloss that stirs up R-rated memories of other parts of her that glistened like that thanks to my mouth, fingers, and dick.
The last of which is trying to let me know as much, stirring in my briefs.
Clearly my pep talk did not work on him. Rules. That’s what we need—rules.
“How much stuff are we talking?”
“Hmmm, well, I flew in on a private jet, so baggage allowance wasn’t an issue, thus I come with a lot of baggage.” She winks.
Loosening the tension in my seatbelt, I turn my body so I’m facing her but my back is towards the door, putting some much-needed distance between our bodies. I school my face, giving her a stern look. “If we’re going to be roommates, we need some rules.”
“Well, rules can be fun,” she says, pumping her eyebrows at me and running her tongue over her luscious bottom lip. “What kinda rules are we talking?”
I cock my head to the side and glare at her in exasperation. I tighten my hold on the belt I still have in my hand, willing myself to fortify my boundaries and regain control of this slippery situation.
“Ones that will hopefully put a lid on whatever wild ideas you’re forming in your head.”
“Ugh, high-on-emotions Raf is way more fun,” she exclaims. “Come on, let me have ’em, Mr. No Fun.”
“One. Don’t leave shit lying around. I hate clutter; it stresses me out. Two. Do not sleepwalk into my bedroom. It’s off limits. Similarly, I will not enter your space unless absolutely required. Three. No bringing guys back to the apartment. I don’t like strangers in my space.”
“Wait. So we can’t be friends with benefits, but I’m not allowed to hook up with anyone else either?”
“No. I like my privacy.” Even to my own ears I know how absurd it sounds.
She wants a mutually beneficial arrangement with me.
I denied her request, but I also won’t let her date—fuck or whatever—other guys.
I pull at the neckline of my wool sweater, suddenly feeling overheated.
I don’t want anyone else having her, touching her, kissing her the way I got to.
Just the thought makes my body revolt. Does that make me a possessive asshole?
Yes. Will I still insist on these rules regardless? Also yes.
“I like sex,” she volleys.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to abide by my rules and have your cake too.” I smirk at her. “I know how much you love a saying.”
“You’re going to regret this,” she says, reminding me again how much of a dangerous idea this is.
“Oh trust me, I know,” I agree, swiping a thumb over my lip. “So, can I ask you how you knew?”
She doesn’t need me to clarify.
“Marco’s pendant on the chain he always wears is the Gigioliotti family crest. All the boys in the family have one,” she reaches under the neckline of her top.
“This was my dad’s,” she says softly, lifting it by the pendant to show me.
“I was able to get a good picture of Marco’s one day and send it to my uncle to confirm. ”
“I mean, now that I know, Marco’s resemblance to you and AJ is obvious. You all have the same green eyes.”
“Admit mine are the prettiest though.” She turns towards me fully with her hand under her chin, shrugging one shoulder as she flutters her eyelashes at me exaggeratedly.
“Your eyes are very beautiful.”
She clutches her chest in mock surprise. “Why, thank you. Who knew Big Bad Raf had it in him.”
“Your brattiness, not so much,” I finish with a mock glare.
“So what will happen to Arty now? Will you have to go to trial?” she asks softly.
“Well, first we’ll have to prove he’s guilty and then give the police enough evidence to press charges.
The victims who have already come forward will be interviewed, and we’ll have to see if there are others.
It won’t be an easy case to get to trial because he knows the law, and coming from a powerful family, he has the money to fight the charges.
The only way we can win this is to present a case that shows he’s irrefutably guilty. ”
“How long will that take?”
“Who knows. Months, sometimes years. But I’ll work around the clock if that’s what it takes to bring that bastard down.”
“If anyone can do it, I know you can,” she says sincerely, reaching over to squeeze my hand, holding it there for a beat.
“Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I say, holding eye contact with said beautiful eyes, devoid of their usual mischievousness, replaced with something more akin to awe.
Leaning into the realness of this moment, I lightly stroke my thumb over her knuckles and feel that same rush of warmth when we were skin to skin in the early hours of the morning deep in my belly.
She goes to remove her hand, but I take hold of it tighter.
“Now I have a question for you. Who was the guy at the club in L.A.?”
She tenses and looks out the window, buying time.
“Which one? There were plenty of guys at the club that night,” she says, flicking her hair and trying to distract me with her theatrics. “Look at me darling; I’m a catch.”
Honestly, I wonder if acting is her calling.
“The guy with the bleach-blond buzzcut, in the background of the selfie you sent me.”
“Jealous?”
“No. I’m just wondering why it sent you into a spiral.”
“Who said it did?”
“Chiara. I’m a lawyer. I can tell you’re not only stalling by answering a question with a question, but that you’re hiding something, because your spine has stiffened, you’re bouncing your foot, and your jaw is clenched.”
I watch her squirm some more and apply a little more pressure.
“Marco told me you had a panic attack, and they’re often triggered by the reminder of something unpleasant or a trau—”
“Yes, Raf. No need to mansplain to someone who has panic attacks,” she snips.
“Ah. So you admit you did have a panic attack?”
“This feels like a cross-examination. I need my lawyer present—oh, wait. That’s meant to be you.”
“Not anymore. You’re living with me now, so it’s a conflict of interest.”
“You’re being an asshole.”
“And you’re avoiding the goddamn question, which tells me there’s a reason you reacted the way you did to seeing him.”
I had Avery investigate it, so I know enough to know the guy is bad news, but I want to hear it from her.
“Fine. You want to know? Well here it is. He’s the man I was fucking when my parents were killed.
The supposed love of my life. The gold standard.
” She laughs mirthlessly, chin quivering.
“He was older than me and I fell for all his charms, never doubting for a second every promise he made to me about the life we would build together. He promised as soon as I turned twenty-one, we would marry, create a home, and have a family together.”
No longer just feeling overheated, I’ve reached boiling point as white-hot rage sears through me, and the arm rest creaks from how hard I’m squeezing it to stop the fury I feel over that con man ever having his hands on her.
Or maybe it’s that all the things I’d been imagining with her, she had planned to have with someone else.
It’s crazy given I didn’t even know her then and that I swore I’d never let myself believe I could have those things again after Victoria, but here we are.
Her shaky voice brings me back from the brink of murderous thoughts.
“Except after my parents were killed, he disappeared. I never heard from him again. The number I had for him no longer worked. He completely vanished, and I was left even more heartbroken than I already was. AJ is the only one who knows I was with him. He’s convinced that Alessandro was working for the people who killed my parents.
That the plan was to lure me away that day, because my parents would never flee to save themselves without me. ”
“Alessandro? Is that his name?”
She nods, and I decide not to tell her that’s probably not his real name right now because I just want to keep her talking so I can relay as much as possible to Avery.
“He looks so different now, but I’d know his eyes anywhere. And…” She hesitates.
“And what? Chiara, if you’re in danger, you need to tell me.”
“And the night in L.A., he called me by his nickname for me and told me he missed me.”
I have an overwhelming urge to punch the window pretending it’s his face.
“And what? He’s come back for you, is that it?”
“I don’t know, Raf! I didn’t exactly stick around to find out, as you well know!”
“Have you seen him or has he made contact since?”
“No.”
“Have you told AJ?”
“Absolutely not. He will most definitely put me on a plane back to Italy the second he finds out. Please don’t tell him,” she pleads. “Not Marco either.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“He won’t hurt me. He could have killed me or kidnapped me a hundred thousand times if he wanted to.”
“People travel, Raf. I’m sure it was just a coincidence he was in L.A. I just freaked out because he was the last person I expected to see. It brought up a lot of hurt and shame.”
“Do you also think it’s a coincidence that just weeks after he sees you and Marco together in L.A., Marco gets shot at an event you’re attending?”
The color drains from her face as she mulls over my question.
“I don’t fucking trust him, and you shouldn’t either. You’re not to go anywhere without Avery literally walking by your side or having you within his sight. I’ll even hire another one of Marco’s men to drive so Avery can be by your side at all times. Understand?”
“Oh, good. So I’ve agreed to live with another dictator. Yay! Love this for me.”
“And you’re going to come down to Johnny’s boxing ring and start learning self-defense with Evie. Seb and Marco taught her everything she knows, and you’re both a similar weight and height, which is perfect for learning, because your test is going to be taking me down.”
“Easy. I’ll just give you a blow job.”
“Fucking hell, Chiara! Using humor to deflect the seriousness of this is immature.”
“No, Raf. It’s how I fucking survive in a world where my life constantly feels like it’s imploding.”
The car pulls up to the visitors’ entrance at the hospital, and Chiara is out of the car before I’ve even had a chance to unbuckle my belt.
I’m guessing this makes us enemies who are roomies. Fucking fantastic.