“You can trust me to look out for your best interests,” he says, his voice threaded with tendrils of anger and something else... I pull in a breath to ask him what he means by that, but he releases my hand and then gestures to the bed. “Get some rest,viziata. I’ll be there shortly.”
He walks toward the master bath and I stand there in a stupor. I can’t figure out what caused Rafael to distance himself from me, but I know what I felt. There’s something he’s not telling me.
Or he’s lying about something.
That thought has my feet in motion before my mind can confirm whether or not this is a good idea. When I reach the closed door I raise my hand to knock and then decide against it. The shower is already running and he may not hear me. Plus, I don’t want to give him the choice to dismiss me before I’ve had a chance to speak to him.
I turn the doorknob and step inside just as Rafael enters the shower. From my viewpoint I drink in the side view of his body. The water droplets trail down the taut muscles of his torso, arms, and legs, and I follow them with my gaze. That’s why I’m able to see the spattering of red on his neck turn the water droplets pink.
Blood. It has to be, because I doubt it’s lipstick.
Urgency prods me to reach down and grab his shirt that’s discarded on the floor. The material is a dark gray, but it’s not dark enough to hide the array of crimson dots. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or upset at this discovery. It not being lipstick rules out another woman.
But whose blood is this?
Panic spreads over me like a layer of frost, chilling me to the bone at the prospect of Rafael being injured.
I drop the shirt and it’s forgotten long before I grip the handle of the shower’s glass door. Rafael’s gaze narrows when I yank it open. “Carina? What is it?” He peers over my shoulder, no doubt looking for a threat, but I ignore him. I’m too busy searching for any wounds on his body. Finding none, I exhale in relief and lean against the shower’s frame.
He grips my arms and hauls me to him, forcing my gaze to meet his, the water from him now transferring to my clothing. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am, because when I saw the blood I thought it was yours. And that scared the hell out of me.”
His gaze drills into mine and I hold it even though all I want to do is weep with the knowledge he’s all right. If I don’t learn how to lie, Rafael might discover my greatest secret: that I care for him beyond what our agreement suggests.
But what does it matter?
To him, I’m a mafia princess on the edge of danger.
To me, I’m a woman on the edge of the danger of falling in love.
Rafael
Afew hours earlier…
The sound of my Glock clicking into place, a bullet entering the weapon’s chamber, fills me with violent energy. It’s primal and intrinsic. A set of chemicals flowing through my body to give me a better chance of survival. I sure as shit won’t be dying tonight because I have a great many things to look forward to in my life.
And one of them waits for me in my bed.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I swing my gaze to Maximus and give him a look that suggests he’s a complete and total dumb ass. Which he is, even if I understand his need to question me. “If someone hurt your wife and you knew where to find them, are you saying you wouldn’t be doing the same thing?”
I’m not sure when my need for Carina to be avenged became more important to me than my own, but it doesn’t matter. She deserves this.
My younger brother shakes his head. “You know I would fucking murder anyone who even thought to harm Emilia.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because I’m trying to gauge where your mind is.” At my look of confusion, he continues. “Anger is a strong emotion. You know this from all the years we’ve spent hating Caruso for destroying our family and our lives. However, anger combined with love? That is extremely dangerous. It can cause you to do things rashly or blindly, putting yourself at risk.”
I scoff. “This is not the same thing.”
“No.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze studying me intently. “No, it’s precarious. Our mother disappeared and is presumed dead, and it seems as if our father has been gone just as long. But your fiancée? Rafael, she is very much alive.”
“What are you getting at?” I squint at him, my eyes little more than slits. “I’m not in the mood for you to bust my balls about something in riddle form. Just fucking say it.”
“You love her.”
