CHAPTER TWELVE
RAFAELLE
Istep back from Liliana dragging a hand through my hair as I try to collect whatever the fuck is left of my sanity around her.
I’m used to my emotions being hard to control or predict.
My brothers would tell you I have anger issues.
But the feelings that lash through my chest anytime I’m around Liliana are deeply concerning.
I turn toward the door instead, attention catching on the knife still embedded in the wood. The blade gleams beneath the low lighting of the room. I grip the handle and yank it free smoothly, marveling at the tiny hole left behind.
It was a beautiful throw. Not accurate enough to kill me.
But certainly close enough to make things interesting.
I glance around the room absently while turning the knife over in my hand.
This is my happy place. The general popular would find a hobby of collecting knives disturbing.
I find it comfortable. It helps me feel at ease.
Especially this knife.
There’s nothing ordinary about it. Most people wouldn’t notice the details immediately.
The handle is matte black, obsidian wrapped in dark leather worn smooth over years of use.
It’s been molded subtly to fit the shape of my grip perfectly.
Silver filigree curls faintly along the base of the guard, nearly invisible unless the light catches it the right way.
The blade is narrow and straight, polished enough to reflect the light like liquid smoke.
It's a beautiful knife. Deadly too and balanced perfectly. It used to belong to a man who once thought he could kill me. I was seventeen when I drove his own blade into his throat.
Of course she picked one of the most sentimental knives in the room to launch at me. Although all my weapons are special. Each of them have a history. My history.
Weapons make sense to me. They only have one purpose. To hurt.
They provide me with clarity.
Unlike women with soft mouths and dangerous eyes.
My gaze drifts back towards Liliana. She’s still watching me cautiously from across the room, breathing slightly uneven.
Her dark hair is a mess from running through the house and she’s still in the clothes from yesterday when she was abducted.
I make a note to rectify that by providing her with a new wardrobe by the time she wakes up tomorrow morning.
Her cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and anger, and somehow she looks even prettier because of it.
This is a fucking nightmare.
Before I can think better of it, I walk back toward her and hold out the knife.
Liliana blinks.
“What?”
“Take it.”
Suspicion flashes across her face immediately.
“Why are you giving me a weapon?”
“A peace offering.”
Plus, I want her to be more comfortable around me. To let her guard down. Like she did that night eighteen months ago.
She stares at me like I’ve finally lost my mind. Maybe I have. But I know without a doubt that she doesn’t truly want to hurt me. Just like I know I would never hurt her either.
Liliana hesitates before carefully taking the knife from my hand. The blade looks good against her skin.
“You’re just giving this to me?” she asks slowly.
“In exchange for good behaviour.”
She scoffs, “I didn’t agree to that.”
Of course not. Nothing’s ever easy with her.
“Fine. Do something else for me then.”
Her expression is wary, “What?”
A smile threatens at the corner of my mouth, “Have breakfast with me tomorrow morning.”
Now she really looks confused, “Breakfast?”
“Yes, little siren. It usually involves food.”
Her lips twitch despite herself and the sight hits me somewhere low and dangerous. I hate that I enjoy making her smile so much. Liliana glances down at the knife in her hand before looking back up at me carefully, like she’s trying to understand what game I’m playing.
I told you I don’t play games, baby.
“Fine,” she says eventually.
Something warm and deeply unwelcome settles in my chest at her agreement. The silence in the wake of it is soft, intimate.
I clear my throat roughly and step back before I do something catastrophic, like touch her again.
“Come on.”
I lead her from the room and through the quiet halls of the house, painfully aware of her presence beside me the entire time. By the time we reach her bedroom door, the tension between us has shifted into something infinitely dangerous.
Liliana pauses at the entrance and looks up at me. I shouldn’t want to kiss her right now. She wouldn’t want me to. And I did just arm her with a weapon that she could inadvertently hurt me with.
And yet.
“Good night, Liliana.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around the hilt of the knife. “Night, Rafaelle.”
Then she disappears into the room and shuts the door behind her. I stare at it for longer than necessary before finally walking away.
Sleep is no kinder to me tonight than it is any other night. The nightmare comes fast and vicious, almost as soon as I shut my eyes, dragging me beneath darkness and a bloodstained memory I spend most of my life trying to outrun. Blue eyes stare back at me through the abyss.
Always those fucking blue eyes.
Accusing. Haunting. Dead.
I wake up in a matter of hours, sweat cooling against my skin along with irritation. Sitting up in the bed, I grab my phone and find something to keep me busy until the rest of the world rises.
Breakfast can’t come fast enough.
The dining room is quiet when I enter, sunlight spilling across the long table lined with enough food to feed an army. Coffee, fresh fruit, pastries, eggs and bacon. My gaze slides over it all with disinterest.
When Liliana walks in moments later behind the butler, she immediately steals every ounce of my attention.
She’s changed into new clothes, an oversized black sweater and shorts that show off her smooth legs.
A part of me is a little annoyed at the sight.
I’m sure I requested she gets pants among the variety of clothes gifted to her this morning.
Her dark hair falls loosely around her shoulders and sleep lingers faintly in her expression. What truly catches my attention however is the knife in her hand. A slow grin spreads across my face.
“You’re going to carry that everywhere?” I drawl as she steps closer.
She glances down at the weapon before looking back at me sweetly.
“I figured if I’m being held hostage by a psychopath, I should accessorize appropriately. I’d wear it like a necklace if I could.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“I bet you’d look sexy with a knife around your neck,” I say.
She glares, “I really don’t want to know what goes on in that head of yours.”
“All things that go bump in the night, beautiful.”
She eyes me suspiciously and is about to take the seat across from me when I clear my throat, gesturing beside me. I watch her wrestle with the decision for a second but she eventually chooses to take the easy road.
“You’re so annoying,” she mutters, taking the seat beside me.
One of the staff immediately steps forward to pour coffee into her cup. Liliana startles slightly.
“Thank you,” she murmurs quickly.
Another places a plate of eggs and bacon and bread before her.
“Thank you.”
Then juice. I can tell she’s deeply uncomfortable. It’s adorable watching her try to navigate being waited on. It’s clear she isn’t sure what to do with all the attention.
I’m still watching her when the dining room doors swing open again. Matteo and Elio walk in mid-conversation before both abruptly stopping at the sight before them. I inwardly groan. What the fuck are they doing here so early?
Although I know the answer. They’re here to check up on me and had definitely not been expecting the scene before them. Me at breakfast with my hostage.
Liliana straightens at the sight of them while Matteo’s eyes slowly drags between the two of us with open fascination.
“Well,” he says finally. “This is already the most interesting morning I’ve had all week.”
“Liliana,” I start, tamping down my annoyance, “These are my brothers, Matteo and I’m sure you remember Elio from yesterday.”
She offers him a small sharp smile, “How’s the head?”
“I’ll live. No thanks to you, miss Navarro,” my younger brother says dryly.
“Zaccari,” she bites out. “My last name is Zaccari but you can call me Liliana.”
Matteo and Elio share a brief look at that.
“We said you should hold her hostage, Rafaelle, not offer her a three course meal as breakfast,” Matteo states, sliding into the seat on my left.
Elio follows suit with a short laugh. But then his attention catches on to the knife right next to Liliana’s plate. He freezes.
“Is that one of your knives?”
Liliana lifts it like she’s showing it off, “Rafaelle gave it to me last night. A peace offering.”
Both my brothers look horrified. Understandably so. I must seem crazy right now.
“You gave your captive a knife?” Matteo asks incredulously.
“Not just any knife,” Elio mutters, sounding genuinely disturbed as he studies the blade at her side. “It’s the one from Nigel. He loves that thing. You threatened to cut my arm off the last time I touched it.”
Liliana glances up, watching me carefully, probably wondering why I gave her something she’s starting to realize is so precious.
“Enough about my knives,” I grumble. “Liliana has promised to behave.”
“Actually, I did no such thing.”
I shoot her a glare. Is now really the right time?
She shrugs once before digging into her food, ignoring the three of us. I can feel Matteo’s gaze on the side of my face, unrelenting enough that I finally turn to look at him.
“What?” I murmur.
“You’re a shit captor.”
“Whatever. Is Salvatore back from his vacation?”
Our eldest brother has been gone for over a week. Romantic getaway with his precious wife. I’m glad for it though. If the Don was around, this particular situation with Liliana would be progressing much quicker.
“He’ll be back later today and then all four of us will have a conversation,” he says and there’s no missing the unspoken intention behind his words.