Chapter 28
RAFFAELE
Ifollowed the scent of coffee into the kitchen.
It felt like I’d been run over by a godsdamn freight train.
Last night, I’d slept—or attempted to sleep—on the couch, despite the king-sized bed I’d graciously handed over to Vivian.
It was her fault I hadn’t been able to close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time.
That my thoughts had been consumed with the way she’d looked, smelled, and felt.
I’d slept on the couch because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her if I spent the night next to her in bed.
And I was afraid that if I’d touched her, it wouldn’t have been like the other times.
No, sharing a bed with her would have been a disaster waiting to happen.
The worst part? She looked like she’d slept better than ever.
Vivian stood at the counter, humming softly to herself as she poured coffee into two mugs.
She was wearing one of my T-shirts, and it was just long enough to graze her thighs.
No bra, of course. Of fucking course. The light streaming in through the windows gave her an ethereal glow, as if the universe was actively mocking my resolve to keep my distance.
“Morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her bright mood grated against my nerves, but I didn’t have the energy to snap at her.
I rubbed the back of my neck as I took the mug she offered. “You’re chipper.”
“I slept like a baby,” she said with a mischievous smile. “That bed is incredible. You really should try it sometime.”
I grunted in response, sipping the coffee and savoring the bitter warmth as she pulled a plate of leftover pastries and fruit from the fridge.
Without a word, she started picking at the food, humming to herself.
I tried to focus on the coffee, on the fucking wallpaper, on anything other than the outline of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of my shirt.
I shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, crossing one leg over the other in a vain attempt to disguise the problem she’d created just by existing in the same room. It pissed me off that my body reacted to her like this, that she could get past those walls I’d so carefully constructed around myself.
She kept humming until finally I couldn’t take it anymore.
“We need to get back,” I said.
Vivian set her fork down slowly. She didn’t look at me right away, instead turning her gaze toward the windows. “Back to The Below,” she murmured, her tone devoid of the cheer she’d had moments ago.
Her disappointment was like a physical blow. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that this was necessary. She was a means to an end. A key to securing the Crimson Dominion. That was it.
So why did the idea of dragging her back feel like a knife twisting in my chest?
“We both have things to do,” I said, keeping my tone clipped. “I’ve already stayed longer than I should.”
“Of course. You’re the big bad mafia lord. Always busy.”
Her words were light, almost teasing, but the undertone wasn’t lost on me. I wanted to say something sharp to remind her of her place, but instead, I found myself staring at her. I was mesmerized with how the sunlight caught in her hair. The curve of her lips. The soft blush creeping up her neck.
Gods, she was so beautiful. And infuriating.
I shifted again, the growing pressure in my pants becoming unbearable. I needed to get out of there. Now.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” I shoved away from the counter and turned before she could catch a glimpse of the very obvious evidence of my thoughts.
I didn’t look back as I stalked to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary. Gripping the edge of the sink as I leaned over, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at me was a fucking mess.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I turned on the shower, cranking the dial to the coldest setting. Ice water poured over me, shocking my system and forcing me to focus on something other than Vivian.
This was her fault. She’d wormed her way into my mind, into deeper parts of me when she’d shown me that kindness after my father’s attack, and now I couldn’t think straight. But I couldn’t let this continue. I couldn’t let her distract me from what really mattered. My territory. My father.
I pressed my forehead against the shower wall, the water cascading down my back.
Last night, I’d almost kissed her. Not to take, like I had before, not to show her who owned her, but because I’d wanted to.
I’d felt her leaning in, her lips just a breath away from mine, and I’d wanted her so badly it had taken every ounce of willpower to pull away.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. The bond twisted everything, warping my emotions, making me want things I couldn’t have.
I stayed under the freezing spray until the haze of desire faded into a dull ache. By the time I stepped out, I was composed again. Controlled. The man she thought she could manipulate was back, and I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand.
Not now. Not ever.
When I got to my office, I was in a foul mood.
I didn’t want to be there. I desperately wanted to stay at my apartment, well away from The Below.
The events of the last few days—Vivian, my father, Altair’s evasions—had left me with a simmering frustration that refused to dissipate.
I had the urge to drown it all out with liquor, and that urge only increased when I saw the men in my space.
Mario, one of my head guardsmen, paced the length of the carpet, his usually stoic face tight with worry. Jareth looked completely at home where he leaned against my desk. His signature smirk was in place, but his sharp, golden-brown eyes flickered with an unusual seriousness.
I didn’t bother to greet them. “I assume you’re not here for a casual chat.”
Mario stopped pacing and rubbed his jaw. “Something happened overnight. It’s... unusual. I think it’s a deliberate attack.”
I narrowed my eyes. “An attack?”
Mario hesitated, glancing at Jareth as though unsure of how to phrase his next words.
Jareth pushed off the desk, and I wanted to punch that smirk right off his face. “Oh, it’s more than an attack, boss. It’s a statement.”
“What kind of statement?” I said through gritted teeth.
Mario sighed. “It’s better if I show you.”
I stared at him, my gut twisting with unease. Mario didn’t get shaken like this. He’d been with me long enough to handle even the grimmest situations without blinking. If he thought this warranted a personal inspection, then it was bad. Very bad.
“Fine,” I said curtly. “Let’s go.”
Jareth fell into step beside me, his casual stride a deliberate contrast to my clipped pace. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the worry radiating off him. I ignored him, focusing on the possibilities swirling in my head.
Who would be stupid enough to attack my territory?
I’d spent years establishing my reputation in The Below. I was known to be ruthless, untouchable, and a force to be feared. No one with any sense would risk inciting my wrath. My mind churned over the alliances and rival factions, searching for the most likely suspects.
We reached the waiting SUV, and I climbed into the backseat without a word.
Mario took the passenger seat, and Jareth slid in beside me.
I tapped on the back of the seat in front of me and the driver pulled away.
I stared out the window as we rode in silence, clenching and unclenching my fists.
The bond was faint at the back of my mind, her emotions muted but still enough to be a distraction.
I pushed it away, focusing on the threat at hand.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked.
Mario turned slightly, his expression grim. “The southern edge of the territory, near the border with the Ashen faction.”
My hands tightened into fists. “The Ashen,” I muttered. “Surely those damn sea serpents wouldn’t be dumb enough to fuck with me.”
The streets seemed unnaturally quiet as we drove on, the usual hum of life replaced by an eerie stillness that gnawed at the edges of my composure.
My shadows coiled at my fingertips, their movements slower than usual, almost sluggish, as though they were mirroring my unease.
Frowning, I flexed my fingers, willing the dark tendrils to obey.
“It could’ve been the Ashen,” Jareth said, his tone light but his eyes sharp, cutting through the silence. “Or someone trying to frame them. You know how it is—everyone’s got a grudge.”
I glared at him in response. The idea wasn’t far-fetched, but it didn’t make me any less furious. Whoever it was, they would fucking pay.
Still, something felt... wrong. The shadows were an effortless extension of my will, and yet, that connection seemed distant now.
Like it had when my father attacked me. I clenched my jaw, letting a single tendril curl away from me.
It wavered, flickering like a flame in a strong wind, before dissipating entirely.
I tried again, focusing on drawing the shadows into my palm.
This time, they gathered reluctantly, as if resisting my call.
The effort was greater than it should have been.
My fingers curled into a fist around the writhing darkness, but even then, the energy felt unstable, slipping through my mental grasp.
“What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath, flexing my hand again as if that would somehow fix whatever was wrong.
“Something bothering you, boss?” Jareth asked, and I whipped my head toward him. He was watching me closely, his eyes narrowed.
“Focus on the job, Jareth,” I snapped, letting the shadows dissipate, their absence leaving a hollow sensation in my chest. I wouldn’t admit it aloud—not yet—but my magic wasn’t behaving as it should. And I had no fucking idea why.
The SUV rolled to a halt as we reached the edge of the farmland. I stepped out into the crisp morning air, and the sight before me stopped me cold.