When She Loves: Chapter 24

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.

An hour later, Rafaele and I sit having breakfast together. It’s the first time we’ve done it since we got married.

A maid comes out with a pot of coffee and refills my cup. Rafaele is on his phone, but when she leaves, he puts it face down on the dining table and turns his attention to me.

“How did it go yesterday with Loretta, tesoro?”

I reach for the sugar and add a spoon to my coffee, taking my time with it. “Not well.”

His face darkens. “What happened?”

I don’t really want to talk about it, but I doubt he’ll drop it. I exhale a breath. “She made it clear she doesn’t think I can help her. She’s not interested in listening to my ideas.”

“Why’s that?”

I take a sip of my coffee. “She’s right. I don’t know anything. I’ve never run a business. I’ve never tried to save a company. Maybe if I’d gone to college, I would know how to save a failing business, but the way it stands, she’s probably better off without me.”

Rafaele shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t learn business by going to college. You learn by trying things, failing, and learning from your failures. You think anyone taught me how to run this enterprise?”

“Didn’t you learn from your father?”

A shadow passes over his expression. “My father taught me cruelty. He taught me how to be brutal and how to instill fear in people. He had no patience when it came to teaching me anything else.”

This is the first time Rafaele has said anything to me about his father. He never talks about his family. Not even his mother or his sisters.

Curiosity stirs inside of me. “What about your mother? What did she teach you?”

His jaw hardens. “We’re talking about you right now.”

“Well, what about me?” Frustration seeps into my tone. Why is he pushing this so hard? I was the one who made a big deal out of having a job. He should be happy I’m giving up on the idea. “As you’ve already seen, I’m good at spending money. I’m not good at making it.”

“I didn’t think you were a quitter.”

“Now you’re trying reverse psychology?” I stand up, no longer hungry. “It won’t work. I won’t go back there. Loretta thinks I’m spoiled and vapid, so why should I bother with her?”

He grabs my wrist and rises, his body casting a shadow over me. I gasp as he corners me against the edge of the table.

“You lean into people’s lowest opinions of you because you think it gives you power. It doesn’t. You know what gives you real power? Proving them wrong.”

I swallow against the bitter truth in those words. “Stop it,” I whisper.

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to get me to change. I’ll never measure up to whatever ideal wife you have in your head.”

He raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over my cheek. His face is just inches from mine, and my gaze drops to his lips. The lips I’ve thought about kissing again. Some part of me hopes that the next time we kiss, it’ll be different. That my stomach won’t flip, my nerve endings won’t fire.

“How do you know the ideal wife in my head looks any different from you?”

Blood rushes in my ears, and that’s when I know that I’m screwed. Because suddenly, my marriage doesn’t feel like a rigid cage. It feels like a steep cliff in the night, illuminated by the moon and the stars. I’ve been standing on its edge ever since I walked down the aisle. And now, I’m falling.

I’ve never belonged anywhere. I’ve gotten so used to being the outsider. The disappointing daughter. I’ve never been anyone’s ideal. Ever. And hearing him say that to me, even if it’s a calculated lie, it breaks something open inside of me.

He dips his head lower. “Why did you run from me this morning?”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. Just thinking about my father’s offer feels like a betrayal. To win back my freedom, I’d have to go against Rafaele. Two weeks ago, I’d have done anything to be free, but I lack that same conviction now.

He curls his hand around my throat and forces my chin up until our lips are millimeters apart. “Why do you keep fighting this?”

Yes, why?

Would it be so bad to give in to the sparks and the electricity?

His lips brush against my own. “You want this.”

Yes, but I used to want other things too. A life where my existence wasn’t reduced to being a mobster’s wife. A life where I could chart my own course. A life of possibilities. I used to be able to visualize it all so clearly.

But with him this close, my vision is all blurred. He confuses me. Is that his intention?

Using every ounce of my willpower, I turn my head to the side. His breaths are sharp puffs against my cheek.

“I’ll go back to Loretta’s,” I whisper. I pull his hand off me and escape upstairs.

I’m lost. More lost than I’ve ever been before. And I have no idea how to find my way back.

The next day, I’m on Loretta’s steps, and I’m a nervous wreck.

Rafaele’s right. I can’t give up after just one try. I wanted to manage famous musicians, but I can’t even figure out how to work with a woman who’s now my family?

Ugh. It’s pathetic.

Nero dropped me off again, but this time, I insisted that he didn’t walk me to the door. I didn’t want to talk to Loretta with him as a witness. He’s probably watching me from the car and wondering why I’m just standing here.

Swallowing hard, I lift my finger to the doorbell. I rehearsed what I’m going to say at least ten times on the drive over, but I feel like I’m going to forget it all as soon as I open my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut and press the button.

A few seconds later, Loretta’s face appears on the other side of the glass. Her eyes widen with surprise for a split second before they turn weary.

I give her an awkward wave. It’s sunny today, and I’m sweating beneath my jacket from heat and nerves.

She pushes the door open and steps out. “What are you doing here?” she asks carefully.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “I think we started on the wrong foot.”

Her eyes dart to Nero’s car behind me. “Am I in trouble? I’d expected Rafaele to call me yesterday to tell me off for kicking you out.”

“I don’t think he’s going to do that.”

Slowly, her gaze moves back to me. My fists clench inside my hoodie. I’ve never had to do this before—try to win someone over. In the past, when someone didn’t like me, I’d just think, fuck you, I don’t like you either. And I’d act like an asshole. But Rafe’s right. That’s not power. That’s giving up.

“Look, you’re right,” I say. “I don’t know anything about your business. I shouldn’t have waltzed in here and started doling out advice like I know what I’m talking about.”

Loretta’s cheeks turn pink. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but at least she’s not shooing me away.

“I want to learn. Let me shadow you today and see how you do everything around here. I’ll do anything you tell me to. Help you however you’d like. You’re the boss, all right?”

Loretta glances at her feet like she’s embarrassed. “Not a very good boss, I’m afraid,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. It was rude of me.”

It was pretty rude, but at least she’s woman enough to admit it. That’s more than most people ever do.

“It’s okay,” I say. “So we both fucked up. People make mistakes, right? Why don’t we start over?”

Loretta stares at me for a moment, considering my offer. “Okay. But you listen to everything I say and do exactly as I tell you.”

I grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

A slow smile appears on her face. “Then let’s get to work.”