“This wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The usual arrogance in his voice was gone. Now, it was raw and unguarded. He raked his hand through his hair, leaving it messily tousled. The movement drew my attention to his sharp jawline and the shadow of stubble that gave him an almost rugged appeal.
His brows were drawn together, the hard lines of his face now soft.
Gods, why did he have to be so infuriatingly beautiful?
Emotion flickered in his intense, dark eyes—real, unfiltered emotion that left me momentarily breathless. Vulnerability and regret tangled with something deeper that I couldn’t quite place.
“I didn’t plan for the bond to affect you this much.” The low rumble of his voice reverberated right through me. “Hell, I didn’t even think I’d feel it this strongly.”
There was a weight to his words that made my pulse quicken, and I fought the strange urge to reach for him and offer some kind of comfort. My mind reeled, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the cold, commanding figure I thought I’d known. He wasn’t supposed to look like this, to feel like this—human, real, and entirely too magnetic.
His gaze didn’t waver, but then the starkness in his expression lifted, replaced by a teasing light that sent a fresh ripple of tension through the bond. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
“What are you smiling about?” I asked warily. I tried to hold on to my anger and disbelief, but the bond thrummed between us, pulling at my emotions like a tether, and I couldn’t completely suppress the presence of something softer.
“You’re aroused,” he said simply, his lips twitching in amusement.
My jaw dropped, heat flooding my face as indignation roared to life inside me. “You’re such an ass!” I snapped, grabbing thenearest object—a pillow—and hurling it at his head with all the strength I could muster.
He caught it effortlessly, his reflexes almost irritatingly perfect. And then he laughed. Really laughed.
It was deep and rich, a genuine burst of amusement that filled the room and wrapped around me like the warmth from a fire on a cold day. It was the first time I’d ever heard him laugh, and the effect was startling. His entire face transformed as his grin lit up his features and reached his eyes. The change was so disarming, so utterly unexpected, that I forgot to be angry.
He looked almost… normal.
And I hated that it made me smile.
“Fuckoff, Raffaele,” I muttered, turning my face away quickly, hoping to hide the traitorous curve of my lips. My cheeks burned, and I silently cursed the bond for making me so acutely aware of his emotions. His amusement practically radiated through the tether.
“You’re smiling,” he pointed out, his voice annoyingly smug.
“I’m not,” I said firmly, refusing to meet his gaze.
“You are.” he countered, shifting closer. His warm, teasing tone made my defenses falter. “I can feel it.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he said softly, and this time the teasing edge was gone. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was fondness in his voice. “I can feel that, too.”
I peeked at him through my fingers. He was still smiling, but the look on his face struck me like a blow. He was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world, his dark eyes unguarded for the briefest of moments.
The bond pulsed again, and I felt his emotions—amusement, yes, but also something softer, something that made my breath catch. It was like standing too close to a flame, the warmth both comforting and dangerous.
I lowered my hands and let out a shaky breath as the tension in my chest eased. “This bond thing is going to make me crazy.”
He leaned back against the headboard. “It’s already making me crazy.”
His words shouldn’t have made me laugh, but a small, incredulous sound that surprised even me escaped me. For the first time since waking up—hell, since I’d been brought here—it didn’t feel so crushing.
Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Raffaele than the cold, calculating monster he showed to the world.
The knockon my door startled me. I’d spent most of the day curled up in bed, nursing the lingering nausea and dizziness from the binding ritual. I wasn’t expecting anyone, least of allhim.
I had no clue what time it was, but the room was eerily dark.
“Come in,” I said, sitting up and pulling the blanket tighter around me. My stomach gave a low growl of protest, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since before the wedding ceremony the day before.
The door creaked open, and Raffaele stepped inside, his expression unreadable as always. Behind him, two staff members carried in trays laden with food—a small buffet of options that smelled so good I nearly drooled. The aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, and something sweet made my stomach twist in both hunger and unease.
