His lips curl into a sneer. “Your mother and I tried to make you into a palatable human being, but we clearly failed. You’re a fucking nuisance. I’m happy Rafaele took you off our hands, and I sure as hell want nothing more to do with you after I get rid of him. I’ll put you on a plane and hopefully never see you again.”
A bitter taste floods my mouth. He knows trying to flatter me would have done him no good. I wouldn’t believe him.
But this I believe. My father hates me as much as I hate him. If he kills Rafaele, I’ll be a widow with a questionable reputation. I’ll be of no use to him.
His words echo through my head. If you help me take him down, I’ll give you your freedom. He wants me to join him in betraying Rafaele. To help him find a way to murder my husband.
My limbs feel numb.
Even my dreams aren’t worth that price, are they?
I shouldn’t be entertaining this. I’m tempted to laugh in his face and call him an idiot for letting me in on his plan. To see how he’ll react when I tell him I’m going to go straight to Rafaele with this information.
But another part of me holds me back. The part that wants to at least consider the possibility of being with Gemma and Vale. Of being free of all of this.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
The words taste like poison on my tongue.
CHAPTER 24
CLEO
The next morning, I wake up with my back pressed against a heater.
It takes me a moment to realize that’s my husband. I remember falling asleep very aware of the six or so inches of space between us, and now they’re gone. Erased by the pull between our bodies in the night.
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.