I’m not sure.
When six p.m. rolls around, I start getting ready for the concert. My suitcase is still lying open on the floor. I never really unpacked when I arrived here. I dig through the clothes I brought and pull out a forest-green dress I haven’t worn yet. It’s low cut with a bow right below my chest, billowy long sleeves, and a flowy skirt that reaches my mid-thigh. I let my hair out of its braid and swipe on a bit of makeup.
When I’m finished, I walk up to the mirror and do a twirl. I’m a bit overdressed for a rock concert, but that’s just because I feel like it. It’s definitely not because I want to look good in case I bump into Rafaele downstairs.
He’s not there anyway. I walk into the empty living room and ignore the small twinge of disappointment.
Vale appears a short while later. “Ready?”
“Yes. Your husband isn’t here to send you off?”
“He and Rafaele are talking business in his office.”
Oh. I swallow and paste on a smile. “Let’s go then.”
We get into the car waiting outside for us and arrive at the venue accompanied by a driver and two guards. When we arrive, the opening act is already playing. We head up to the VIP area and grab a couple beers.
“This band’s great,” Vale says, her head bopping along to the music.
The VIP area quickly fills up with more and more people. Our guards are standing off to the side, close enough that they’d be able to reach us in no time if needed. I turn back toward the stage and focus on the music.
Are Damiano and Rafaele still talking to each other back at the house? I wonder what they’re discussing. With Nero gone, Rafaele will have to make a lot of changes to how he runs things.
Frustration zaps through me. Ugh. I came here so that I wouldn’t think about him, but here I am, thinking about him all the same.
A prickling sensation spreads over my neck, like someone’s watching me. I turn my head and lock onto a pair of ice-blue eyes on the other side of the VIP area.
CHAPTER 46
CLEO
My heart picks up speed. Rafaele pushes his way through the crowd and stops when he’s right in front of me. The sight of him makes my breath catch.
He’s dressed down in a pair of black jeans and a light-blue button-up shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. Without a jacket, there’s no hiding the hard outline of his shoulders or the breadth of his muscled chest. I stare at his thick neck and the tanned skin peeking out from under his shirt, and swallow.
Fuck, he looks good.
The tired air he had around him when he first arrived is gone. The only sign of the toll our time apart has taken on him is the light bags under his eyes, but they do nothing to detract from his handsomeness. A familiar heat appears between my legs, and I want to scream. It’s not fair that he still has that effect on me.
He drags his gaze over me, letting it linger on my chest and my bare legs. When he refocuses on my face, there’s a simmering hunger in his eyes. A hunger I know all too well.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe.
His jaw clenches. “Damiano told me you went to a concert. I was worried.”
Inside me, butterflies flutter. “Worried? Our guards are here.”
“I don’t know them, so I don’t trust them,” he says roughly, shooting the guards a skeptical look.
Vale groans from somewhere behind me. “Here we go. You know, we somehow survived the past two weeks without your interference.”
Rafaele ignores her comment and turns his attention back to me. “There are a lot of people here.”
Amusement tugs on my lips. “I know, Rafe. It’s a concert.”
He clears his throat. “Yes. A difficult place to secure. You can never have too many guards in a place like this.”
It’s like he’s trying to give me a reason not to ask him to leave.
I bite on my bottom lip. I should tell him to go home and that he has no right to be here, but I…don’t want to. It’s endearing how out of place he looks right now, even though he clearly tried to fit in by wearing casual clothes.
“Have you ever been to a rock concert?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “No.”
“Well, lucky you. The headliner is about to come on.”
He checks the time, bringing my attention to his wrist. He’s wearing the watch I got for him, and for some reason, that makes my chest clench. “Yes, any minute now.”
Just then, the guitarist walks on stage, and the opening notes of a song stream through the air. The crowd goes nuts when the band opens with one of their most popular songs, surging around me. I cheer with the rest of the audience, but I don’t miss the way Rafaele moves to stand behind me, his body acting as a shield to prevent anyone from bumping into me.
The music pounds in my ears, the beat pulsing through me like a living thing. I try to keep my attention on the stage but my awareness is fixated on Rafaele. He’s close enough for me to feel the heat of his body. Every time he brushes against me, I want to press back into him. It’s like we’re two magnets, unable to resist each other’s pull. An ache builds low in my belly.
He brings his lips close to my ear. “You look stunning.” His hands slide over my hips and then settle on them with a possessive grip. I have to bite back a moan. He’s testing my boundaries and I should push him away, but I don’t. God, it feels good to have him touch me. His warmth seeps through my dress and into my skin.
I close my eyes and let myself get lost in the moment, the music, the sensation of his body against mine.
I don’t want to lose this. But what future can we have together with Nero’s death hanging over us?
A crack appears deep inside my chest, and the emotions I’ve tried to keep under control surge through me. The backs of my eyes prickle. I need to figure this out. I can’t keep living in this state of limbo, one foot in and one foot out.
I turn around in his arms. There’s longing etched across his face. “Let’s go outside,” I say.
Rafaele nods and takes my hand into his. He easily carves a path through the crowd and brings us outside to the smoking area. It’s empty since the headliner is still playing.
I breathe in the cool evening air and look up at the night sky. It’s a full moon.
Rafaele stops behind me. “Cleo?”
The way he says my name brushes over my skin like a caress. “What do you think?” I ask.
“About what?”
“The show.”
There’s a beat. “It’s fun. Just like most things are when I have you close to me.”
My vision blurs. Is he even aware of the bittersweet pain that he inflicts with those words?
“Most? Not all?”
“It’s not fun when you’re right here but you won’t talk to me.”
I turn to face him. “Then you know how I felt in the months we were married.”
A shadow passes over his expression. A moment passes before he responds, like he’s letting my words sink in. “It wouldn’t be like that anymore.”