We walk into the department store, Ras’s story looping over and over in my head.
My heart clenches at the realization that he trusted me with something deeply personal. When I asked the question about his nickname, I was searching for a flaw. Instead, it feels like I found a strength. Made men don’t like to show their vulnerabilities. In fact, they like to pretend they don’t exist. But somehow, seeing Ras embrace his, makes him all the more impressive in my eyes.
We get off the escalator, and I realize people are staring at us. Two elderly ladies stop to whisper to each other, their eyes on Ras.
Ras notices and frowns. “Something on my face?”
I bite down on my lip, because how do I explain to him that he’s too damn handsome for his own good? He fit in better in Ibiza among all the other tanned Spaniards and Italians, but here, he stands out.
A group of high school girls walk by us, hearts in their eyes, and burst into giggles when Ras gives them a smile.
He stops, looking back at them over his shoulder with a confused expression before turning back to me. “Seriously, is there?”
“No, there’s nothing on your face. You just…” I wave a hand in his general direction.
“What?”
I pluck at his vest. “They think you’re handsome. And you’re all exotic with your tan and long hair and tattoos.”
Realization cascades over his features, and then his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk. “You know, I’m starting to like New York a lot more.”
I roll my eyes and start walking again. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Your ego doesn’t need another boost.”
He quickly catches up to me. “Tell me, what do you think about my looks?”
“Fishing for compliments?” I ask even as my face grows hot. Is he flirting with me?
“You tell me what you think about me, and I’ll tell you what I think about you.”
We’re passing through the lingerie section now. “You go first.”
“Ms. Garzolo!”
I halt. No, not him. Mamma said Melanie would be helping me today. But a glance to the right is enough to confirm that Benjamin is working.
My stomach drops.
The forty-something-year-old man has always given me the creeps. Two months ago, my gut feeling was confirmed when he walked into the dressing room while I was changing and tried to “help” me with my clothes. I didn’t cause a scene because I didn’t want Mamma to tell Papà who might have set one of his men on Benjamin. Or more likely Papà would have found some way to blame the incident on me. So I just told Mamma I wanted to work with a new sales associate. Something must have gotten lost in translation.
I pick up on Benjamin’s overly strong cologne from a dozen feet away and brace myself when he goes in for a hug. He’s about to make contact when Ras steps in between us.
“Can I help you?” Ras asks, his voice as sharp as a knife.
I peek around him.
Benjamin blinks at Ras, looking taken aback. “Oh, hello there.” He moves away, putting some more distance between them. Ras towers over Benjamin, his muscular frame intimidating. “I’m Ms. Garzolo’s sales associate. Benjamin Scott.” After a moment of hesitation, he offers up his hand.
Ras takes it.
Benjamin winces at the grip and goes a little pale.
“I’m Ras. Can I call you Ben?”
“I prefer Benja—”
“Ben, I’m Ms. Garzolo’s friend. I’m accompanying her for this appointment.”
“I see,” Benjamin mutters, extracting his hand. His fingers look smushed together. “Well, let me show you to the private shopping area.”
Ras’s palm lands on the small of my back, firm and possessive. Something swoops inside my belly. He keeps it there as we walk to our destination.
Benjamin glances at us over his shoulder. “I know there’s one particular dress you wanted to try, Ms. Garzolo, so I have that ready for you. I also brought in a few other pieces that I think you’ll enjoy.”
“Thank you,” I say stiffly.
We reach the private dressing rooms. “Just give me one moment to make sure everything’s ready. You can wait right here.” Benjamin gestures at the sofas in the waiting area and disappears through a door.
Ras frowns in his direction. “You know this guy?”
As I sit down, his hand falls away. The fact that I’m so aware of it makes my face heat. “He’s helped me a few times before. But I thought I’d have someone else today.”
His hazel eyes move back to me, studying me carefully. “You don’t like him.”
Am I that easy to read? Ras must be good at picking up on body language. I suppose it’s a handy skill to have in his line of work.
“Why not?” he presses, sitting down beside me on the sofa.
I don’t want to cause any problems. Benjamin is a creep, and he deserves to be reprimanded by his supervisor, but I don’t want to set the literal mob on him.
He didn’t kill anyone. He just tried to cop a feel.
I need to get my dress and get out of here.
“It’s nothing. I’d just prefer a woman.”
Ras shakes his head. “Tell me why.”
He’s like a dog with a bone, intense and focused. How do I make him drop it? “He just gives me a weird vibe.”
Ras throws one arm behind me and turns, his chest brushing against my shoulder. This man has no concept of personal space. His face is inches away from mine as he says, “If you’re not going to tell me what happened, I’m just going to assume the worst.”
I glance at him from under my lashes. I’ve never seen him look this serious. Almost stern. Heat spreads through my core. What is wrong with me?
Benjamin reappears. “All right, we’re all ready—”
“We need a few more minutes, Ben. Do you mind?”
I nudge Ras with my elbow. What is he doing? We’re in a common waiting area, and he’s acting like this is our personal meeting room. He just stares at Benjamin until the man slowly backs through the door.
“No problem.”
“Ras, this is—”
He leans even closer, forcing my back against the sofa, and cradles my chin between his fingers. “What. Did. He. Do.” His minty breath brushes over my cheeks.
I swallow, searching his eyes for any sign that he might still drop this.
He won’t. He’s going to keep me here until I give him an answer.
“Fine,” I grind out, jerking my chin out of his grip. Not because he’s hurting me, but because being touched by him makes my body buzz all over. “Last time he walked in on me while I was changing.”
Ras’s eyes darken. “On purpose?”
“Yes. He grabbed my ass, okay? He tried to play it off like he was just helping me with my dress, but I’m not that gullible.”
Ras’s jaw clenches. He gives me a terrifying smile and pats my cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Ras, it’s not a big de—”
He’s already up, prowling toward the door Benjamin disappeared behind.
I jump to my feet. “Ras, don’t—”
The door flies open. I catch a flash of Benjamin’s panicked face before Ras blocks him from my view.
“Sir?” Benjamin squeaks, sounding appropriately frightened. “What’s wrong—”
Ras grabs him by the neck, forces him backward, and slams him against the wall.
“Shit,” I mutter, running after them and pulling the door closed. We don’t need any witnesses.
“You fucked with the wrong girl, Ben,” Ras growls.
He loosens his fingers just enough for Benjamin to squeal, “What did I do? I didn’t do anything! This is a misunder—”
“Ms. Garzolo told me you touched her inappropriately the last time she was here.”
“I di-didn’t!”
“Are you saying Ms. Garzolo is a liar?”
Benjamin’s eyes look on the verge of bursting out of his head. “No, of course not.”
“She said you walked in on her changing in one of these rooms. Did you, or is she lying?”
“I-I-I—” Benjamin’s desperate gaze lands on me. “Ms. Garzolo, I’m sorry!”
Ras punches him in the gut. Once. Twice.
Benjamin bleats in pain. I cover my face with my hands. This is hard to watch, but for some reason, I’m not rushing to stop it. My heart is racing inside my chest.
Ras is standing up for me.
“Please, sir—”
I slide my fingers open and peer through the gap.
Ras heaves him up and slams him against the wall again. “You know, in the old days, we’d cut off your hand for that.”
Benjamin is bawling. “Not my hand. Please, not my hand!”
“No problem. I can be a reasonable guy.”
Ras knees him in the balls—hard—and throws him to the ground.
Benjamin screams in pain, curling up like a shrimp on the floor.
“If you ever as much as look at her again for a second too long, I won’t just cut off your hand. I’ll cut off every limb. I’ll make you into a stump. Do you understand me?” There’s no hint of humor left in Ras’s voice. It’s hard and cold, meant to leave no doubt about whether he’d deliver on that threat.
Ice spreads through my lungs. It’s like I’ve forgotten that Ras isn’t just any man, but the feared underboss of the Casalesi.
He lifts Benjamin’s face with the toe of his shoe. “Say it.”
“Yes! I understand.”
“Enough,” I squeeze out.
God, I almost feel bad for Benjamin. Almost. But not quite.
This isn’t like me. I don’t like violence. Especially not violence on my behalf. So why do I feel strangely thrilled at this display?
I lower myself to the crushed-velvet sofa. I can’t remember the last time someone stood up for me this way. Not because of what their disrespect meant to my family, but because of how it affected me.
That’s what Ras just did.
Ras crosses his arms and peers down his nose at Benjamin’s squirming, sobbing form.
“All right, wrap it up, Ben. We don’t have all day.” He prods him with his shoe again. “I need some things as well. Winter wardrobe. I trust your taste. I’m six-four, usually size extra-large. My shoe size is forty-seven. I think that’s size thirteen over here, but do me a favor and check.”
Benjamin manages to peel himself off the floor and mumbles without looking at either of us. “O-of course, sir.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
My gaze snags on the shimmery yellow dress I picked out online for the party next week. It’s Rafaele’s aunt’s fiftieth birthday, and all of the Garzolos are invited. A dinner at a venue downtown followed by a party in one of Rafaele’s clubs, which means I need something that will work for both. When I checked the measurements, they were slightly too big.
I clear my throat. “Ras, he needs to mark the alterations for my dress.”
Ras glances at me, and I tip my head in the direction of the coffee table, where there’s a tray with measuring tape and a pincushion.
Benjamin halts, one foot already out the door and looking desperate to get out of here.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Ras says, walking over to where I’m sitting and picking up the pincushion.
I cross my arms and press my fist to my nose as Benjamin bolts through the door.
Ras gives the cushion a toss and meets my gaze.
I sigh. “He’s going to need therapy.”
Ras shrugs. “Should have thought of that before he laid a finger on you.”
Warmth rushes over my skin. “I’m going to go change, and you’re going to use that time to Google how to use those pins. I’m not showing up to a party in a lopsided dress.”
He gives me an amused look. “Don’t worry, it can’t be that hard.”
I snatch the dress off the rack, walk into the change room, and draw the heavy curtain closed with a loud swish.
As I slip out of my clothes, my heart starts to dance to an awkward rhythm at the thought of Ras standing just outside with only a curtain separating us. I undo my bra and hang it off a hook.
“Yeah, this won’t be a problem,” Ras calls out, and it sounds like he’s right there. “I found a video on YouTube.”
A thrill runs up my spine. “Okay, great.”
I shimmy into the dress, and when the fabric drags over my curves, everything feels a little more sensitive than normal.
The dress is a smidge too long, and an inch or so of fabric pools on the floor. I bunch it up and decided that with a small heel, the length should do.
The chest area is a problem, though. The neck is a low-cut V, and it’s made for someone with bigger boobs. I do up the side zipper and step out of the dressing room, holding up the straps at my shoulders.
I stop in front of the mirror, and Ras looks up from his phone. He does a double take.
I feel a flush rise to my cheeks. “What?”
Sliding his phone into his pocket, he takes a few slow and deliberate steps toward me. I can feel my heart in my throat.
“I never told you what I think of you,” he says, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip while he stares at me like I’m something edible.
What is he talking about?
Oh. Right. My mind’s so focused on this moment, it’s forgotten all the other ones.
He stops right behind me, close enough for me to feel the heat of his body spread across my back. Our reflection makes nerves scatter over my skin. He’s so much bigger. Taller. While I was changing, he took off his suit jacket, and that shirt does nothing to hide the muscular lines of his shoulders and arms.
“Want to hear it?” The words rumble inside his chest.
“Sure,” I say lightly. I’m expecting I’ll get something about how I clean up well or how he likes my haircut.
Instead, his eyes darken. “You’re exquisite. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Suddenly, I’m breathless. I press my thighs together, trying to contain the heat that appears between my legs.
In the mirror, I see his gaze dip lower, noting the small movement. The air in the room presses down on me. I’m so thoroughly stunned, I can’t formulate an appropriate response, although I’m not sure such a thing even exists given the context.
He must notice how flustered I am, because he shows mercy and gives me an out. “How does the dress fit?”
I swallow. “The straps are too long.” My voice is so weak, I sound like I just ran a marathon.
“Let me see.”
He lifts his hands to my shoulders and places them on top of where my fingers are holding the straps. I let go and let him take over.
“I think they need to be adjusted by at least an inch.”
Ras threads his index fingers under the straps and gently tugs on them.
I suck in a breath as the fabric flattens over my breasts, pressing against my hardened nipples. The heat at my center pulses insistently.
“How’s that?” Ras murmurs, his hot breath brushing over my nape like a caress.
“Maybe a little more.”
Another tug. I bite down on my lip so that I won’t gasp. My nipples tighten even more, and there’s no way he can’t see them pushing against the delicate fabric of the dress in the reflection.
“That’s good,” I breathe.
“Hold,” Ras says, his voice a rasp. “I need to get the pins.”
I take over, our hands brushing in the process.
When he comes back, there’s an unmistakable hunger simmering inside his gaze. I watch as he presses his thumb on the strap and pushes the pin through.
I wince when the second pin slips through the fabric and pierces my skin.
He clicks his tongue. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing.”
But he won’t take my word for it. He slides the strap off my shoulder, each one of his fingertips a hot brand across my skin. “You’re bleeding.”
Someone’s filling the air in this room with electricity. It skates over my face, my neck, my chest, and I don’t know how to turn it off. “I— It’s fine.”
“I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
The words hang suspended in the space around us. All I hear is the loud pounding rhythm in my chest.
Slowly, so slowly that I think I’m imagining it, he lowers his head and presses his lips to my shoulder.
My breathing stops. There’s a hot, warm brush of his tongue over my skin, and I feel it in places I shouldn’t. My eyes flutter closed. A new kind of need appears inside of me, the kind that buzzes inside my bones. It carries echoes of that stolen kiss in Damiano’s darkened kitchen.
This is so wrong. This is exactly the kind of trouble I was afraid of when I told myself I needed to stay away from him. I’ve never felt this way around another man.
“Ras, we shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmur, sounding breathless.
His lips move against my skin. “Tell me to stop then.”
I intend to pull away, but instead, my body leans into him.
He makes a sound of satisfaction and slides a palm over my waist.
I feel his teeth gently bite into my skin, and my lips part. My chest rises and falls. I’m a hundred degrees. He drags his palm up over the center of my abdomen until the fabric stops and he encounters bare skin above the low cut of the dress.
He moves his mouth to the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder and lifts his gaze to meet mine in the reflection. I arch slightly, enough for my ass to press against the front of his thighs, and there I make contact with something I’m sure has earned him more than a few compliments.
He makes a low groan. “Fuck.”
His eyes still locked on mine, he slips his hand through the gap in the front of my dress, cups one breast, and gives it a squeeze.
My thoughts scramble as he pinches my nipple with his fingers. I didn’t expect him to go this far, but I also didn’t expect to feel such a thrill at what’s happening.
God, I’m screwed.
There’s a knock on the door.
We break apart, and the air in the room ripples with released tension.
Ras sucks in a heavy breath, adjusts his pants, and glances at me.
I straighten out my dress. “Come in.”
Benjamin enters, dragging a rack of clothes behind him. Ras finishes with the other pin and calls him over to check that the markings are right.
We get the okay, and I go to take off the dress. I pull the curtain closed and press my forehead to the mirror. I was right earlier. Being around Ras is a terrible idea. But when I open my eyes and glance at the light-pink mark he left on my shoulder, I’m not sure I have what it takes to stay away.
