It doesn’t now. The truth is, I don’t hate my husband anymore. There’s far more to him than meets the eye. He’s more than a don, more than a killer, more than my prison warden.
Rafaele works a lot. Unlike Papà, he doesn’t just sit in his office and expect his capos to bring him their reports. He goes to their territories, helps them with their problems, and he seems to genuinely give a shit about taking care of them.
My father always thought that was beneath him. All he knows how to do is yell and threaten, but I’ve overheard how Rafaele talks to his men, and he doesn’t need to raise his voice to get them to do something. He’s a natural leader, and he has their respect.
And then there’s the way he treats me. The way he makes me feel. Like I’m more than just a fuckup. Like I’ve got something good to give.
I’ve been written off by everyone in my life, one way or another. Everyone but him.
I cover my face with my palms and finally come to terms with it.
I can’t betray him.
Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe I’m allowing myself to be driven by feelings Rafaele may never reciprocate. Maybe. But I’ve never been one to worry about consequences, have I?
I drop my palms and gaze at the clear blue sky.
I will never be Rafaele’s possession.
I will never belong to him.
But I think I belong with him.
A few more days pass with Rafaele gone. He returns on Friday, the same evening we’re scheduled for our dinner with the Ferraros. Everyone knows who they are, but I’ve never met any members of the family. I’m not sure which family is more powerful, the Ferraros or the Messeros, but they’re equally feared in New York.
I’m trying to pick what to wear when my husband strolls into the closet and meets my gaze in the mirror. His is pure hunger. He prowls over to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and presses his lips to the side of my throat. A low buzz appears beneath my skin.
“How was your trip?”
“Too long,” he growls against my skin.
“Missed me?” I try to sound casual, but the second it takes him to respond makes my heart stutter.
“You have no idea.” His eyes meet mine again. “This dinner couldn’t have come at a worse time, tesoro. I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight.”
My body burns under his gaze. He knows. He knows I’m done for. If he pushed me down to the floor right here in the closet and said he wanted to fuck me like an animal, I’d let him. There isn’t much I wouldn’t let him do to me right now. I missed him too. More than I thought was possible.
He glances around the closet. “Picking your outfit?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The Ferraros won’t agree to wearing blindfolds willingly,” he says in a low voice, his lips close to my ear. “Don’t make me force them.”
My laugh is breathless. “Don’t worry. I’ve got something at stake tonight too, remember?”
Maybe he doesn’t. Loretta’s supplier contract is hardly the most important thing he has on his mind.
“I remember.” He turns me in his arms so that I face him. “I prepared the revised contract with updated payment terms. All Gino will have to do is get his cousin to sign it.”
My stomach flutters. “When did you have the time to do that?”
His hand slides down my back, and there’s a subtle smile playing on his lips. “I always make time for things that are important.”
My chest constricts. I can’t wait any longer. I have to tell him about what Papà asked of me. I’ve decided I won’t help him. Now, I just have to warn Rafaele.
But before I can tell him, he cuts me off with a kiss. The kind that scrambles thoughts and makes nerve endings fire. His tongue brushes against mine, and I forget all about my father. I lean into Rafaele’s strong body, dragging my hands over his muscled shoulders, and imagine what it will feel like to have this body moving over me.
Heat stirs between my legs.
Too soon, he breaks the kiss and steps away from me. There’s something distinctly unrestrained in his expression, but he manages to blink it away. “We should leave in fifteen.” His voice is hoarse. “Will you be ready?”
Tell him.
No, I can’t tell him now. Not when I have the convenient excuse of being in a hurry.
I force a smile. “Yes.”
I choose a shimmery white dress off the rack and disappear into the bathroom to change.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the car with Sandro. He drives us to Manhattan, straight to a building in Billionaires’ Row.
When the private elevator opens, Rafaele and I step inside a palatial lobby with a glittering chandelier and an intricate mosaic floor that depicts swirling fish. Straight across from the elevator is a magnificent water feature—a large slab of stone with water cascading down its surface.
A man in a butler’s uniform greets us and takes our jackets before leading us behind the water feature and into the living area.
My eyes widen. The home spans two entire floors. My father’s condo a few streets over, which I’ve always thought of as the height of luxury, suddenly feels incredibly small.
The design of the space has an obvious Asian influence. It’s serene and sophisticated, with clean lines, natural colors, and dark furniture.
I catch a glimpse of what might be the best view in the city before my attention is drawn to the man walking over to greet us.
Gino Ferraro, the don of the family. He doesn’t look like one of the most dangerous men in New York. With his handsome grin and thick silver hair, he’d fit right in at Bloomingdale’s on Christmas, dressed in a red Santa suit, sans the gut. But he’s not the first monster I’ve met in our world who hides his monstrous nature beneath layers of deception.
“Rafaele,” he says in a rumbling voice. “Welcome.”
He and Rafaele shake hands. “Thank you for inviting us into your home.”
“It’s my pleasure. And this must be your lovely new wife.” He pins his perceptive gaze on me. When I offer him my hand, he lifts it to his lips, and the coarse hairs of his white beard brush against my skin.
“I’m glad we could make this happen. Let me introduce you to my boys.”
His sons are standing in the corner by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Central Park like three dark sentinels, their black suits in stark contrast against the beige crane-patterned wallpaper.
Whatever serenity the decor of this place managed to create is immediately erased. I don’t think there’s anyone who’d ever feel at peace in the presence of these men.
One after the other, they turn toward us. Each one deadly. Each one undeniably handsome. Beautiful monsters. This world is filled with them.
Gino leads Rafaele and me toward his sons, and the collective force of their attention makes my throat go dry.
“This is my eldest, Cosimo,” Gino says, gesturing at the tallest man in the group.