Our first few days in Heraklion are a kaleidoscope of sunshine, lazy hours by the pool, slow dinners on the patio, and Ras’s skin against mine.
We have sex on every surface imaginable. Each time, I think it can’t get any better than this, only for him to prove me wrong.
He soaks me up. Learns every minute reaction of my body when he touches me just so. Becomes a master at making me see stars.
And I consume him in equal amounts.
He fascinates me, and that fascination grows with every hour we spend together.
His body is a work of art that I spend countless hours studying. My fingertips trace over every ridge and valley of his muscles. My throat becomes very familiar with his thick cock.
He tells me about his tattoos. Shares the story behind every scar.
A lot are from Nunzio.
My blood runs cold every time I think of that man.
I think he’s the first person I genuinely want dead.
We talk about everything. Ras tells me about his parents, and how they spent his teenage years trying to make him into someone he’s not. I think he’s brave for never caving to that pressure, but he tells me it wasn’t so much bravery as stubbornness.
One evening, he makes me a meal that makes my mouth water. Pasta carbonara, braised artichokes with tomato and mint, and a rich tiramisu for dessert.
He laughs when he sees the size of my portion. “Peaches, we’ve barely eaten all day. Tell me you’re having more than that.”
An uncomfortable feeling spreads through my chest. I put more food on my plate, but he notices something off in my expression.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
“Are you kidding? This looks amazing.”
“What is it then?”
I lick the sauce off my bottom lip. “I would never be allowed to eat more than a tiny bit of this back home.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mamma has this thing with food. She’s always been concerned about my weight. I was a little chubby in my early teens, and it drove her crazy. She wanted me to be thin.”
He leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “She controlled your eating a lot?”
“It came in waves, depending on her mood. She could go months without saying anything, but then we’d go shopping or out for lunch with her friends, and something would just switch on. She’d monitor everything I ate for a while afterward. Then the cycle would repeat. At some point, I just learned to monitor myself, I guess. It was easier than anxiously waiting for her to snap at me.”
Ras’s brows furrow. “I remember how she talked to you when you were in Ibiza. As soon as lunch ended, I went to the kitchen, got those rolls you wanted, and dropped them off at the guest house.”
My eyes widen. “That was you?”
He gives me a crooked smile and nudges my chin with his finger. “I wanted you to know that there was at least one person who thought she was being ridiculous.”
Warmth spills inside my chest. Back then, I’d been so wrong about him.
Ras stands up, walks over to me, and squats down by my chair. His gaze pierces right through me. “Peaches, you are in no way lacking. There isn’t a single thing I’d change about you. And anyone who’s ever told you otherwise is either an idiot or the type of person who has to put others down in order to feel better about themselves.” He lifts his knuckle to my chin. “Erase their words from your mind.”
A strange emotion comes over me, something soft and vulnerable and weepy.
He pulls me into his arms. I let my head fall against his chest, my eyes growing wet. We stay like that for a while, holding each other.
We get back to our meal, and I eat until I’m thoroughly full. He smiles at me from time to time, his eyes warm and filled with a fierce happiness that suits him so damn well.
I can’t believe I ever hated him. Maybe this is why he always pushed my buttons, because subconsciously I knew that he could see the real me. The flawed girl I worked so hard at hiding.
“Peaches, you are in no way lacking.”
I’ve always been lacking in one way or another. Always.
But for the first time, I wonder if maybe I could be just enough for him.
On the morning of our fourth day in Crete, I ask Ras to let me talk to Vale.
“You mentioned yesterday we could call her,” I remind him while we’re having coffee out on the patio.
I get why Ras hasn’t wanted me to talk to Cleo—after all, anyone of Papà’s men could be monitoring her phone—but he also doesn’t seem too enthused about me calling Vale, and I don’t understand why.
He puts his mug on the table, and something in the way his lips twist makes a bad feeling materialize inside my gut.
“What’s going on?”
He swipes a fallen leaf off the surface of the table. “There’s something I should probably tell you.”
My heart rate picks up. Did something happen to Vale? “Ras, what is it?” I ask, panic creeping into my voice.
He props his elbows on his knees and sighs. “Dem and Vale don’t know we’re here.”
I frown. How is that even possible? “What? I thought all of this was yours and Dem’s idea. Didn’t you talk to him while I was with the doctor?”
“Yeah, I did. We had a slight…difference in opinion.” He runs his hand over his beard.
“What does that mean?”
His gaze slides my way. “He ordered me to leave New York on my own.”
Oh. Oh. “Are you telling me you disobeyed Damiano’s orders to bring me here?”
“He wanted me to leave you behind,” he says by way of an answer.
My stomach hollows out. “Ras, what happens to men who disobey their don?”
He says nothing, but his eyes give it away.
This is as good as a betrayal. He’s betrayed Damiano for me. An underboss doesn’t betray a don if he wants to live.
Despair dries out my throat. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He looks at me from under his thick brows. “The alternative was to bring you to Rafaele. I couldn’t do it, Peaches.”
I stand up. “So you threw your life away on my behalf without even telling me about it? Clearly, you knew I wouldn’t be happy about it since you delayed telling me for four days!”
His jaw hardens. “I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want you to get upset over something that’s already done. I made a decision, Gemma. I knew the consequences when I made it. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Damiano is your oldest friend. He’s your don.” I don’t understand how he could have done something like this. How he can act like any of this makes any sense.
Ras stands up too. “Let me be clear about something. After I watched your father try to beat the shit out of you, there was no way, no fucking way I was going to leave you alone in that city.”
My heart clenches.
He brings his hand to my face and swipes his knuckles over my bruised cheek. “I know what it cost me. And I’d pay that same damn price again and again if it means I can keep you safe.”
“You had no right to keep the fine print of that decision from me,” I say weakly.
“Gemma, none of it matters. Until I met you, I didn’t even realize how fucking hollow my life has been. For the past decade, I’ve lived to serve Damiano, and I did it willingly. It gave me purpose and meaning. But it’s never made me truly happy.”
“And I do?”
His gaze sparks. “You make me so fucking happy that I feel like a new man.”
He means it. His voice rings with certainty and conviction that I wish I felt.
Familiar doubts creep in.
Am I enough to fill in the holes he’s created in his life?
How could I possibly be all that for him?
“Why don’t you try to call Damiano? If you explain everything to him, he’ll listen to you.”
Ras shakes his head. “I can’t risk it. I disobeyed a direct command from a don. For the Casalesi, that’s an offense punishable by death.”
I can feel the blood drain from my face. “Ras, he’d never do that to you.”
“Maybe not, but he made it clear he didn’t want me to take you away. Until I can be sure he’s not going to try to track us down, I can’t risk it.”
“When will that be?”
“I don’t know, Gemma. I’m sorry. I feel fucking terrible that you won’t be able to talk to Vale for a while, but I promise you it won’t be forever. I just need time to figure everything out.”
My disappointment about not being able to talk to Vale seems insignificant compared to the utter tragedy I’ve made of Ras’s life.
“You can’t possibly be okay with this.”
“As long as I’m with you, I’m okay.” He gives me a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t fool me.
There’s a part of him that hurts.
He chases away the darkness by pulling me in for a kiss. My body molds to his with ease, like I was made for him.
When we’re touching each other, all the problems around us disappear. They don’t belong here between us. Not in this fantasy we’ve created.
But when we break apart, they slowly creep back in.
I wake up the next morning beside a sleeping Ras with a sense of panic lodged deep inside my gut.
Ras brought me here against Damiano’s orders.
The sheets are wet with my sweat. I push them off and slip out of the bedroom to get some water.
It’s early—dawn. The rising sun makes the sea look like liquid glass. I stand by the window as I drink my water and try to empty my head by focusing on the mesmerizing view.
Everything will be all right.
The mantra has no impact.
I’m not like Papà.
I don’t believe the lies I tell myself.
It might take some time, but given everything I know about Ras, eventually he’ll miss his friend. They have decades of history between them.
And what happens then?
He’ll grow resentful.
It’ll start slow, like the fuzzy white mold that appears on the surface of a peach. It’s so subtle, you’re not sure it’s really there. But with time, the skin will soften and dull. The decay will spread, and the fruit will deteriorate until it’s unrecognizable.
Until it’s rotten to the core.
And then it’ll be too late to fix anything.
It’s day five since we left New York, and I have no idea what happened after I left. I want to talk to Cleo. She’d fill me in on everything, and maybe I’d be able to find a way out of this mess.
If I go home, Damiano might take Ras back. I can tell him that I begged Ras to do what he did, and that it’s not his fault. All the blame could fall on me.
I know where Ras keeps the burners, but I’d have to get Cleo’s number from my phone first because of course I don’t know it off the top of my head. My phone hasn’t been on since Ras turned it off back in New York. It’s probably dead. I’d need to find a way to charge it.
What if the second I turn the phone on, Papà will be able to track me? I don’t know how that stuff works, but maybe if I do it quickly, it’ll be harmless.
I turn the idea over and over inside my head, but something nags at me.
Something horribly, awfully selfish.
I don’t have to call her today, do I? I can forget what Ras told me and go back to that blissful happiness of the first few days.
If I go back home, I’ll never experience this again. People spend their entire lives looking for something like what I’ve found with Ras. For someone who makes them feel content and wanted and loved.
I wrap my palm around the pendant he got me. A sailboat glides over the water in the distance.
Ras and I haven’t said the words, but they’re in our every action, every glance, every touch.
Yes, a few more days.
I walk back into our room and quietly enter the bathroom. The shower takes a while to warm up, so while I wait for it, I take a look at myself in the mirror. The bruise on my face is fading. The one on my ribs isn’t as visible beneath the tan I’ve managed to acquire. Still, these marks on my skin remind me of the past I’m trying so hard to forget.
I step into the shower and lather myself up, the water running in soapy rivulets down my body.
A sound makes me turn.
It’s Ras. He moves purposefully toward the shower, pulls open the door, and steps under the cascading water, backing me against the wall. There’s a frisson of excitement low inside my gut at the way his hungry gaze drags over my body.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep. “I was wondering where you went.”
“I was only gone for ten minutes,” I tease him.
He’s already hard, and the head of his cock brushes up against my thigh.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Peaches,” he says, moving closer. “I know how fucking crazy I sound, but I swear, even a minute away from you feels too long.”
My chest swells with affection so powerful that it feels like it’s about to burst out.
Sometimes, when I’m lying beside him, his scent all around me and his arms wrapped around my waist, it’s still not enough. I get the insane urge to burrow under his skin. To become one with him.
He presses his palm against the wall beside my head, closing me in, and leans down to kiss me. Teeth tug and bite on my lips. His tongue delves inside my mouth, and his other hand finds my breast.
I love how big he is compared to me. How when he stands like this, I can’t see past his boulder-like shoulders.
He snakes his palms under my wet bare thighs and lifts me so that I can wrap my legs around his waist. My eyes follow the mesmerizing dance his muscles perform beneath his flesh. Water sluices down his hard, rippling chest and round biceps, running in rivulets between the ridges of his abs.
“Honeymoon phase. It’ll fade.” I gasp when his fingers drag over my slit.
He chuckles. “I fucking hope so, because the way it stands, I don’t know how I’ll get anything done.” His fingers push deeper inside. “Right now, the only thing I want to do is you.”
My head falls back as his thumb finds my clit. “God.” Sparks of pleasure explode over my skin as he rubs it in slow, sure circles. I groan, loving the way he knows how to touch me just right.
He presses his lips to the side of my neck. “These sounds you make. You don’t know how much I love them.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get to hear a lot more of them,” I mutter, my eyes shutting against the waves of pleasure that spread over my entire body.
Ras dips his head down and catches a nipple with his mouth. When he sucks on it, shivers explode over my skin. It’s like his touch is charged with electricity. The chemistry between us makes my head spin. It’s always been there. We just didn’t have a way to channel it in those early days.
Ras pulls back and nudges his nose against my cheek.
I blink at him lazily. “I want you inside of me.”
“Fuck, I have to go get a condom,” he mutters and starts to put me back down.
I stop him with a palm on his biceps.
“It’s the week before my period. We don’t need to use it. The risk is low.”
His eyes go so dark they nearly turn black. I can feel his fingers press deeper into my thighs. “You sure?”
The tip of his cock brushes against my sensitive entrance, and I give him a nod. “Yes. I want to feel all of you.”
His forehead presses to mine, and he starts inching inside of me.
I gasp at the sensation of him stretching me. “It’s so damn good,” I whisper against his lips.
“You like my cock stretching your tight little cunt?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Ras pushes all the way in. God, he’s in so deep I can practically feel him in my stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re perfect.”
I shiver from his praise. By now he’s learned how much I like it and he heaps it onto me.
Ras kisses my shoulder and starts moving, each thrust pressing me harder against the wall. My body buzzes, my nerve endings vibrating with pleasure. Everything feels so right.
It’s like my body’s made for him.
His mouth latches onto mine, biting and licking at my lips. I squeeze his biceps and arch my back until the spot is just right. “Oh my God.”
“There you are.” His palms squeeze my ass. “Fuck, baby. Milk my cock with that tight cunt.”
My muscles contract on their own at his words, and then my world shrinks to the feel of him inside of me and nothing else.
I fall over a steep edge and find oblivion.
Ras lets out a low moan and breaks apart moments after me. “Mine. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I pant, clutching onto him like he’s the only tether I have left to reality.
I want to stay in this feeling. Luxuriate in it. But an intrusive thought comes right on the heels of my last words.
When the honeymoon phase ends, how long will it take for him to regret losing everything because of you?
A wave of dread crashes right through the warm haze.
Ras pulls out of me and lowers my feet to the ground. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I let him wash my hair and lather up my body, but my mind is elsewhere.
Is this how it’s going to be? Even in our best moments, will there always be an undercurrent of dread?
There’s a guillotine hanging above us, and we’ll remember it every time we look away from each other.
We dry off and go to have breakfast in the kitchen like everything’s okay, but it doesn’t take him long to notice the change in me.
He sees the look on my face and frowns. He’s become so good at reading me, it’s as if I’m his favorite book.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand into his. “You’re tense.”
I avert my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he implores, his voice low and penetrating. “Not to me.”
My lip gets caught between my teeth. “I’m afraid of how this will end.”
His eyes dim, like he wanted me to be honest, but maybe not that honest. Or maybe he’s been avoiding thinking about our future because he knows there are no easy answers.
At his silence, my walls rise up. “Never mind.”
“Hey.” He lets go of my hand and slides off the sofa to kneel before me, putting our eyes at the same level. “This? It will never end. I know you’re scared. I know. But we can figure out anything as long as we’re together. You hear me? We will take it one day at a time.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “Don’t you feel any guilt? For what happened between you and Dem? For the people that care about you wondering where you are?”
He smooths my hair back. “If guilt is the price I have to pay to be with you, I’ll pay it. Gladly.”
It’s easy for him to say that now. But what about weeks from now? What happens when it all finally sinks in?
He sees the hesitation in my gaze and frowns. “Don’t you believe me?”
I swallow down my distress and lie. “I do. Of course, I do.”
