When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(50)

My fingers twitch against the bed sheets. Rafaele’s breathing is slow and steady, but I know what he sounds like when he’s asleep, and he’s not asleep now.

Instead of pulling away like I should, I flex my spine, pressing my hips slightly backward.

It’s an infinitesimal movement. The kind people make in their sleep. The hardness that presses back against me would be enough to jolt anyone awake.

My breath hitches. I know he heard it. He probably felt the tiny jump I made against his chest.

A large hand slides over my hip, dragging against the fabric of my nightgown and setting off a pleasant buzz beneath my skin. His movements are slow and languid, as if we’re in a dream. He pushes me forward until my front is pressed to the mattress and my face is half buried in the pillow. My hard nipples make firm contact with the bed, and I groan lightly from the pressure.

Rafaele touches his lips to the side of my throat and licks at my heated flesh. I stifle a gasp, a moan. His fingers dig into my hip, his thumb pushing down against the swell of my ass. His lips move to my nape and then drift lower, traversing down my spine. Wet kisses against each vertebra that I feel between my legs.

I ache for more.

I squeeze my eyes shut, swept away by the sensations he’s creating inside my body.

And that’s when a tiny devil lands on my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “If you help me take him down, I’ll give you your freedom.”

My eyes snap open.

Fuck.

The conversation with my father comes rushing back.

I elbow Rafaele in the ribs and nearly tumble to the floor in my haste to get away from him. He catches me as I’m about to roll off the side of the mattress, his hand a vise around my waist.

Our gazes meet for the first time this morning. His is dark and hungry and laced with frustration. Mine, wide and anxious and so fucking caught.

I haven’t decided what I’m going to do—if I’ll take my father up on his offer or not. But the mere memory of his words floods me with guilt.

Papà wants Rafaele dead. And I’m sitting on that information instead of telling him.

“Let go of me,” I whisper.

He does. I land on my feet inelegantly, dart into the bathroom, and lock the door behind me. My heart thumps a panicked rhythm inside my chest. The thought of working with my father makes me sick, even if it would be for my benefit. Stefano Garzolo doesn’t deserve to be don.

And Rafaele doesn’t deserve to die.

He’s killed countless people. He is a symbol of everything you hate. Everything you’ve wanted to escape from.

I turn on the shower, set the temperature to ice-cold, and step inside. A violent shiver runs through me when the water hits my skin.

I need more time. More time to get to know Rafaele. More time to convince myself there’s a real human hiding inside the brutal man. And I need more time to figure out what I want out of my life.

Because for the first time since I can remember, no clear answer comes.





An hour later, Rafaele and I sit having breakfast together. It’s the first time we’ve done it since we got married.

A maid comes out with a pot of coffee and refills my cup. Rafaele is on his phone, but when she leaves, he puts it face down on the dining table and turns his attention to me.

“How did it go yesterday with Loretta, tesoro?”

I reach for the sugar and add a spoon to my coffee, taking my time with it. “Not well.”

His face darkens. “What happened?”

I don’t really want to talk about it, but I doubt he’ll drop it. I exhale a breath. “She made it clear she doesn’t think I can help her. She’s not interested in listening to my ideas.”

“Why’s that?”

I take a sip of my coffee. “She’s right. I don’t know anything. I’ve never run a business. I’ve never tried to save a company. Maybe if I’d gone to college, I would know how to save a failing business, but the way it stands, she’s probably better off without me.”

Rafaele shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t learn business by going to college. You learn by trying things, failing, and learning from your failures. You think anyone taught me how to run this enterprise?”

“Didn’t you learn from your father?”

A shadow passes over his expression. “My father taught me cruelty. He taught me how to be brutal and how to instill fear in people. He had no patience when it came to teaching me anything else.”

This is the first time Rafaele has said anything to me about his father. He never talks about his family. Not even his mother or his sisters.

Curiosity stirs inside of me. “What about your mother? What did she teach you?”

His jaw hardens. “We’re talking about you right now.”

“Well, what about me?” Frustration seeps into my tone. Why is he pushing this so hard? I was the one who made a big deal out of having a job. He should be happy I’m giving up on the idea. “As you’ve already seen, I’m good at spending money. I’m not good at making it.”

“I didn’t think you were a quitter.”

“Now you’re trying reverse psychology?” I stand up, no longer hungry. “It won’t work. I won’t go back there. Loretta thinks I’m spoiled and vapid, so why should I bother with her?”