“I figured you might be hungry, considering it’s almost eleven at night,” he said as he switched the bedside lamp on. He nodded to the staff to set the trays on the small table by thewindow. Once they finished, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
“Starving.” I got out of bed and padded over to the table. My head still felt light, and I moved slowly, but the sight of real food gave me a much-needed boost of energy.
Raffaele leaned against the wall, watching me load a plate up with food. I didn’t bother trying to make conversation as I shoveled food into my mouth. The first bite of roasted chicken practically melted on my tongue, and I moaned in delight.
“Don’t I get a thank you?” he drawled, his tone amused.
I didn’t dignify that with a response, just reached for a piece of bread and tore into it. He chuckled, and I felt a flash of amusement ripple through the bond. His emotions were like faint echoes in the back of my mind, brushing against my own without my permission.
The bond was already proving to be a pain in my ass.
I didn’t look up until I was halfway through my plate, and when I did, I found him staring at me, his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly. There was something unsettling about the way he studied me—like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
“What?”
He pushed off the wall, a neutral mask slipping onto his face. “You’ll be moving into my bedroom tonight.”
I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said, his tone annoyingly calm. “The bond makes it… difficult to be apart for long periods. It thrives on proximity. When we’re together, it’s stable—happy, even. When we’re apart, it will cause discomfort. Anxiety. You’ve felt it already, haven’t you?”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped short. Damn it, he was right. The uneasiness that had settled in my chest when heleft the room hadn’t been lingering fear, it had been the bond. Gods, I wanted to scream.
“I’m not moving into your room. And I’m sure as shit not sleeping with you.”
A flash of amusement and annoyance passed through the bond. “You can sleep on the floor for all I care.”
“Then why move me in at all?”
“Like I said, the bond. It’s better that way,” he said simply. “For both of us.”
I huffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either.”
His honesty took me by surprise, deflating some of my anger. Still, the thought of sharing a space with him—sleepingin the same room—felt like a nightmare waiting to happen. I clenched my jaw, trying to find a loophole, a way out of this mess, but his resolve was clear. There would be no arguing with him.
He led me to his room. My head throbbed from the effort of walking, but I refused to show any weakness in front of him. When we reached the door, he opened it with a flourish and stepped aside, motioning for me to enter.
The space was exactly what I’d expected: dark, minimalist, and annoyingly immaculate. A massive bed draped in black and gray linens that looked sinfully soft dominated the center of the room. There was a sitting area near the fireplace, a few shelves lined with books, and a desk that looked more for decoration than use.
“Make yourself at home.” Raffaele made his way to a massive walk-in closet in the corner and emerged with fresh clothes. “I’m going to shower.”
I took in the room and tried to make sense of the enigma that was Raffaele Gallanti. Without thinking, I took a seat at the desk that looked like it had never been used. I wiped a finger over thesurface. It came back clean. Of course. Eldora ran a tight ship around here.
What the hell did he do for entertainment? There was no TV, no speakers, or signs that he listened to music anywhere. Completely bored out of my mind, I found a blank notepad and pen in the drawer of the desk and began doodling flowers.
I was never much of an artist, but the repetitive motion numbed my mind, which was exactly what I needed.
I was so focused on my drawings that I hadn’t heard the water shut off. Raffaele emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled, wearing only a pair of black cotton pajama pants.
Son of a fucking bitch.
This wasn’t the first time I’d caught a glimpse of his bare chest, but nevertheless, I was shocked at how chiseled his muscles were. Couldn’t he have the decency to cover that shit up?
He walked over to the bed, grabbed a pillow and a blanket, and tossed them at my feet. “There. Problem solved.”
I glared at him. “You expect me to sleep on the floor?”
