I gnaw on my nail. I don’t know what to do. I’m not a political mastermind.
All of this just feels wrong.
Except for what’s happening between Ras and I.
Which is crazy, because what we’re doing is objectively wrong. The Gemma from even a month ago would have never done what I did in that car with him.
I’m cheating on my fiancé. I’m risking us getting caught. I’m being selfish.
And it feels intoxicating.
The scene in the car played on repeat inside my head for the two days we were away.
I couldn’t wait to be back around him.
I want more. So much more.
I wish we hadn’t stopped.
A waiter snaps me out of my reverie when he comes to refill my water. I glance around the table. Ras is sitting across from me, while Cleo and I are sandwiched between Papà and Mamma. Rafaele, Rafaele’s mother, and Nero are here as well.
My fiancé may as well be a ghost. I barely register him. When I first met Rafaele, I was constantly aware of his presence, the way prey is aware of a predator. Now, it’s surprisingly easy to pretend he doesn’t exist. Why should I save my body for him? This emphasis on my virtue when most of the men in this room possess none is hypocrisy at its finest.
I wish I’d just said screw it and had sex with Ras. The thought of doing it makes my skin buzz with excitement.
I want to feel all of his attention on my body again, but with no restraint this time. I want him to lose himself in me. Those lips on my breasts. His fists in my hair.
He’d be gentle at first. Careful. I’m sure of it. That’s how he was with me in the car. But then he’d turn impatient. Demanding. It’s that contrast in him that makes me weak in the knees.
Ras cuts into his steak with precision and puts a piece into his mouth. The tendons on his thick neck move, and his jaw flexes as he chews. His big, rough hands make the fork look tiny.
Heat swirls between my legs.
I love those hands.
I love how they feel against my skin.
I love how just before he puts them on me, my body tingles with anticipation and everything comes alive.
He must feel the weight of my attention, because he glances in my direction. The expression on my face makes his eyes darken.
“Ras, when are you heading back to Italy?” Nero asks.
His gaze is still on me, and it flashes with pain. “Soon.”
What? My stomach drops. “How soon?” I blurt out, barely hiding my crushing disappointment.
He cuts another piece of steak. “No set date yet, but I’m likely to leave within the week.”
It’s an effort to maintain control over my features.
What is this? Why is he leaving?
Because you’re still getting married to a don. Did you think Ras would stay here forever?
No, but I just want a bit more time.
What for?
My nails dig into the flesh of my palms.
He’s somehow become the only good thing in my life. In the midst of all this betrayal, heartbreak, and chaos, he’s the only anchor I have left. A light in the darkness.
And it looks like I won’t even have that soon.
The dinner wraps up, our parents bid Cleo and I goodbye, and the two of us head out with Ras to Rafaele’s club. Once we’re there, a bouncer leads us to the private entrance meant for VIPs.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been allowed to go to places like this. Our cousins took Cleo and I out to Papà’s club in the Meatpacking District two times, and there was one birthday party for a girl from my school. It says something about how close Papà is to Rafaele that he’s okay with Cleo and I coming here with just one escort.
“When were you going to mention that you’re leaving soon?” I ask Ras under the cover of the blaring music.
His palm finds a spot on my lower back. “I only just talked to Dem about it. I was going to tell you tonight, but Nero asked before I could.”
So Dem wants him home. I guess Ras accomplished whatever diplomatic mission he was sent here for, and now he has no reason to stay. I can hardly call my brother-in-law and ask him to lend me his underboss for a little longer because I feel things for him that I have no business feeling.
Maybe Ras’s decided I’m not worth the risk. Rafaele would kill him if he knew what we’ve done. It doesn’t matter that Rafaele doesn’t feel an ounce of attraction to me—by contract, I’m already his.
That realization is tough to swallow. I’m putting Ras in danger by keeping this thing between us going.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” Cleo says, ditching us and heading to the bar.
I’m still trying to collect my thoughts when Nero intercepts us moments after she leaves.
“There you are. This way,” he says, gesturing ahead. “Rafaele wants to speak to you, Gemma.”
Behind me, Ras stiffens. I shoot him a wary look and slip my hand into the crook of Nero’s offered arm.
My fiancé notices us approaching and acknowledges me with a nod. He’s in a huge round leather booth with a few of his men around him. They make space for me, Ras, and Nero.
Ras takes a seat on one end, Nero beside him, and I sit by Rafaele. If he notices the inches of space I’m careful to leave between us, he doesn’t say anything about it or make an attempt to move closer.
He reaches for a bottle of wine and pours me a glass.
I take a sip. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“You were distressed at our last dinner,” he says, pouring a glass for himself. “I wanted to see how you feel about my future role as the head of your family now that you’ve had some time to think about it.”
He wants my opinion. Didn’t I make myself clear? “You’re stealing something that doesn’t belong to you.”
His icy gaze drops to me, and fear zips up my spine. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ras crack his neck. He’s watching us but he can’t hear our conversation over the noise in the club.
“Stealing? The favor I’ll have to call in with the DA is not only worth millions of dollars, but also many lost lives and years of espionage. That favor took a lot of work to get. Giving me control of your family is the only thing your father could have offered me to make it a fair deal. He even managed to get a concession out of me—five more years as don.”
I clench my fists. He’s explaining all this to me with the confidence of someone who believes they’re in the right. It infuriates me.
“How is any of this fair if Papà’s using Vince and I as his chess pieces? Papà lied to me about why I had to marry you. He manipulated me.”
“And when I realized you didn’t know what you were signing up for, I told your father he had to come clean.” Rafaele places his glass on the table and rests his elbows on his knees. “He didn’t want to tell you the truth, but I made it clear he had to, or I’d walk from our deal. I’m not above lying to my enemies, but if we’re to become a family, I don’t want us to start on a foundation of lies.”
“How do you expect me to believe that when you’re still lying to me about Vince?”
Rafaele frowns. “How so?”
“I don’t believe for a second that he’s okay with this. He’s Papà’s only son. The position of don is his.”