I look up at him, my heart still racing from the ride—and from him. "Fine. You won. What is it? Do you want me to stop throwing slippers at you? Do you want me to stop talking back? What?"
He reaches out. His hand finds a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers linger there, warm against my skin, his thumb grazing my jawline. The smugness is gone, replaced by that heavy, dark intensity that makes my knees go weak.
"I haven't decided yet," he says, his voice a low, secret thing.
"You have to tell me," I say, my voice sounding breathy. "That was the bet."
"No. The bet was that I get a wish. It didn't say I had to use it immediately." He leans down, his face inches from mine, his eyes scanning every inch of my face. "I’m going to save it. I’m going to keep it in my pocket until the moment I need it most."
Oh gods. He’s going to use it to break me, isn't he?
"That’s unfair," I whisper.
"Life is unfair, little Gia. I thought you’d learned that by now."
He doesn't kiss me. He just stays there, his thumb tracing the line of my lip, letting the tension build until it’s a physical weight. Then, he pulls back, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"Come on," he says, turning back toward the horses. "You look like a disaster. Let’s get you inside before Carla sees what you’ve done to those trousers."
I follow him back toward the house, my heart doing a slow, heavy throb. He won. He has a wish. And the way he’s looking at me tells me that whatever he asks for, I’m not going to be able to say no.
I am in so much trouble, I think, watching the way his shoulders move as he walks.
And for the first time, I’m not sure I want to be saved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GIA
I’m going to be thinking about that race for a long, long time.
The water is too hot, steaming up the glass of the shower until the rest of the bathroom disappears. I lean my forehead against the cool tile and let the spray hammer against my sore muscles. My thighs ache from gripping Serafina’s sides, and my heart is still doing a slow, heavy thud-thud against my ribs.
He’s going to use that wish to ruin me.
The thought is a persistent hum in my skull. Rafael is a man who plays for keeps, and I just handed him a blank check signed in my own blood. I can still feel the way he looked under that oak tree—smug, predatory, and entirely too handsome for a man who skins people for a living. I should be terrified. I should be planning my escape.
Instead, I’m wondering why he didn’t kiss me out there.
"Get it together, Gia," I mutter, splashing cold water on my face. "You’re a spy, not a groupie."
I dry off, slip into a silk robe that feels like a second skin, and remember I have a job to do. I told Carla I would get her the updated household inventory logs—or at least, that’s the excuse I gave her when she mentioned she would have to go to the study to get them.
It’s the perfect opening. A quick in-and-out, a glance at the desk, anything.
I make my way down the hall, my bare feet silent on the carpet. The house is quiet, the afternoon light fading into a bruised purple outside the windows. I reach the study and press my hand to the heavy oak door. It’s unlatched.
Lucky.
I slip inside, my eyes scanning the room for the inventory ledger. But the words die in my throat the moment I see him.
Rafael is standing by the window, his back to me. He isn’t wearing a shirt. His black trousers are slung low on his hips, and he’s in the process of pulling a fresh shirt from the back of his chair. He’s just returned from the shower as well, his skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat that makes his muscles gleam like polished bronze in the twilight.
I should leave. I should turn around and walk out and pretend I didn't see the way his lats ripple as he moves. But I’m frozen.
Because I’ve never seen his back before.
It’s a map of a war I wasn't invited to. A jagged, silver scar runs from his shoulder blade down to his waist. There are smaller marks, too—pitted circles that look like old burns, a long, thin line across his lower back that looks like it came from a blade. It’s brutal. It’s horrifying.
