A few days after Sabina’s firing, the doctor gives me the all clear. Rafaele doesn’t seem thrilled when I tell him I want to start working at his cousin’s business right away, but with the doctor’s permission, he has no excuse to keep me at home.
When I wake up the morning of my first day at work, Rafaele is in the shower, and I have a text from Gemma.
How are you doing?
She’s been checking in with me every day since the attack.
Much better. My cuts are healing, and my head is fine. Rafe is finally letting me go to work.
My phone buzzes with her response a minute later.
Rafe?! Sounds like you two are getting cozy. How is he?
I’m not sure what to text back to her. A week ago, I would have written an essay about how much I hate my husband, but how can I possibly rail against the man who nearly took a bullet for me? The man who volunteered to stitch me up when I was scared? The man who didn’t get angry when I tried my best to piss him off, but who absolutely lost it when he heard Sabina being a huge bitch to me?
He fired that horrible woman on the spot. I can still barely believe it.
It’s been almost a week since we started sleeping in the same bed. With every night that passes, the space between us seems to shrink. And I can’t stop thinking about kissing him again.
I drop the phone and press my palms to my face.
I’m softening for him. Doing the thing I promised myself I’d never do.
What about my plan? I haven’t even looked at that scrap piece of paper since the attack. I’m not sure if I have it in me to continue with any of it. Not when Rafaele is starting to seem a lot less like my jailer and a lot more like a man I could possibly be falling for.
I curse under my breath.
He’s winning.
He’s winning because he’s got me right where he wants me, and I have to keep reminding myself of the life I’ll never be able to live because of him. Of the fact that he’s ruthless, and clever, and knows just how to turn this situation in his favor.
It shouldn’t matter that he protected me. Yes, if it had been my father and me in that restaurant, dear Papà would have used me as a human shield, but Stefano Garzolo is hardly the standard I should compare other men against.
Rafaele had to protect me because he would have looked weak if I died, and his path to becoming the boss of the Garzolos would become more complicated.
But he seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. Or he’s a very good actor. When he saw me bleeding on the ground, I swear he seemed worried. More than worried.
Tortured.
I drag my palm over my lips. I don’t understand him, and I don’t know how to handle the version of him that seems to actually feel something for me. Is it real or an illusion? What if this version of Rafaele disappears the moment he sleeps with me?
The bathroom door opens, and Rafaele comes out in only his dress pants.
Fuck me.
I should be used to the sight of his body by now, but I’m not. My skin heats, and my heart pounds a little faster.
“Nero will drive you to work.”
“Why?” I ask from where I’m lying in bed. I’m trying very hard to keep my gaze on his face and not his body.
I’m failing.
Muscles ripple beneath his tattooed skin, and I can’t look away.
“Because I want him to,” he says as he puts on his dress shirt.
I swallow. “Why not Sandro and Tiny?”
“They’re helping me search for whoever is behind the attack, and they’ve been working long hours. I don’t want Sandro driving you when he’s tired.”
“Doesn’t Nero have more important things to do?”
Rafaele meets my gaze in the mirror as he does up the buttons, hiding his eight-pack from my view. “No.”
That one simple word sets off a flutter inside my belly. Nero isn’t just some soldier. He’s Rafaele’s consigliere. The most valuable member of his team. And Rafaele is assigning him to me. The flutters multiply. He’s treating me like I really am his treasure.
His pride hangs on his ability to protect you, remember?
But what if it’s more than that?
He breaks our eye contact and takes his jacket off the back of a chair. The fabric of his shirt stretches over his broad shoulders as he slips the jacket on.
“He’ll pick you up at nine.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He walks over to me and gently lifts my chin with his fingers. My pulse picks up speed. Is he going to kiss me? That’s what normal married couples do, isn’t it? Kiss each other before they go to work in the mornings.
Only we’re not normal. We exist in a different galaxy from “normal.”
Still, my eyelids flutter as he leans down and brings his face closer to mine.
“Is there something else you’re ready for now that you’re all better, tesoro?” he asks, his breath coasting against my lips.
I can feel my panties grow wet even as disappointment spreads beneath my skin. There it is. He’s waiting for me to declare surrender and hand him his prize.
I jerk my chin out of his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His gaze sparks. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t spend the last few mornings salivating over my body?”
A bucket of cold water breaks right over my head. I rip off the duvet and push past him as I get out of bed. “Fuck you.”
“You will. Very soon.”
I whirl around, ready to find something to throw at him, but he’s already halfway out the door.
He leaves, but the ghost of his touch remains branded into my skin.
Nero’s waiting in the foyer when I come downstairs in my first-day-at-work outfit. I decided to optimize for comfort, since I don’t really know what Loretta will have me do all day, so I’m wearing a pair of wide-legged jeans, a green blouse, and some sneakers.
Nerves dance beneath my skin. I want today to go well.
Nero looks up from his phone and takes stock of me. “You actually don’t look too bad.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Gee, thanks.”
He laughs and drags his palm over the scruff on his chin. He’s nearly as tall as the doorway behind him. Today, he’s dressed down from the usual black suit I’m used to seeing him in. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. “I meant it as a compliment. Heard you got banged up.”
“Felt like a pretty backhanded compliment.”
He slides his phone into his jacket pocket. “You always assume the worst of me.”
“Always? We’ve spoken like…twice.”
“Yes, but our first interaction was so insightful. I feel like I really got to know you.” He opens the front door and waves me forward.
I step out and breathe in the crisp March air. “You mean when you and Rafaele pulled me off the side of the road like two barbarians?”
Nero unlocks the car and opens the door for me. “It was the beginning of your beautiful love story.”
I can’t help but snort as I slide into my seat. “Oh yes, because all love stories involve kidnappings, being forced into marriage, and dates that end in a hailstorm of bullets.”
He grins. “The ones that aren’t boring do.”
I put on my seat belt while he comes around and gets in on the other side.
“Well, maybe some of us like boring.”
He starts the car. “Yeah, but not you.” He smirks at me, like he genuinely believes he knows all about me.
I clench my teeth and decide that I’m over this conversation.
But Nero is not. “So, how are things going with you and Rafe?” he asks as we pull out of the driveway.
He’s trying to sound way too casual.
“Fine.”
“You warming up to him? He’s not as bad as he seems at first.”
I groan. “Is this why Rafaele assigned you to me? So that you could make a case for him on the drive over?”
“No. He asked me to do this because he’s worried about you.”
“He doesn’t worry about anything or anyone.” It comes out bitter. I’m annoyed about this morning and how I actually wanted Rafe to kiss me…until he ruined it. Is there some pathetic part of me that’s hoping this marriage might work? I really am a colossal idiot.
Nero shrugs. “That’s what he’d like to believe, but his actions indicate otherwise. Heard he fired Sabina because of something she said to you.”
“Yes, well, apparently my existence has been reduced to being an extension of him. He takes any offense against me very personally.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
I glance at him. “Get what?”
“Sabina’s been with the family for four decades. And he fired her without even thinking it over. Rafe thinks everything over.”
I shift in my seat. “What are you implying?” That Rafaele acted emotionally for once?
“Nothing. I’m just making observations.”
“Just observe the road.”
Nero huffs a laugh and turns on the radio. He cycles through the stations until he finds one playing hip-hop, and then he bops his head along with the song. A puff of air escapes my lips as we get onto the highway. My perception of Rafaele is shifting like a kaleidoscope. I don’t know what to make of my husband anymore.
When the song ends and the commercial comes on, Nero turns down the volume. “You know, there’s at least one other thing Rafe did quite impulsively.”
I glance at him. “What was it?”
There’s a knowing smile on Nero’s face. “Agreeing to marry you.”
