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.