"I know you didn't. That’s why I’m doing it." He steps into the room, closing the distance until I’m forced to look up at him. He grabs my jaw, his thumb grazing my lower lip with a tenderness that makes me want to weep. "I want to see you in here, Gia. I want to see your things on these shelves. I want to know that when I walk through that door at night, I’m finding you. Not a memory."
Every word of his is a brick in a wall I’m eventually going to have to tear down. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes, tryingto drown out the voice of my father that’s screaming in my ears. I am a counterfeit coin, and he’s treating me like pure gold.
"Thank you," I whisper, the words feeling like a betrayal.
"Don't thank me. Just make it yours. I want to smell jasmine in here, not dust."
He kisses my forehead—a soft, lingering touch that feels like a seal—and then leads me back toward the hallway. My legs feel heavy, like I’m wading through deep water, but my skin is still burning where he touched me.
CHAPTER 33
RAFAEL
The world is still grey and quiet when I wake.
The digital clock on the nightstand says 4:42 AM. Usually, this is the time I’m already up, my mind running through cargo manifests or security gaps, but today I don’t move. I can’t fucking move.
Gia has shifted in her sleep. For the first time since she arrived in this house, she isn’t curled into a tight, defensive knot on the far side of the mattress. She’s turned toward me, her body draped over mine like she’s finally stopped expecting me to be the monster under her bed. Her head is a heavy, warm weight against my chest, her dark hair spilled across my skin like ink on parchment.
I stay perfectly still. My breathing is shallow, my heart thudding a slow, rhythmic beat under her ear.
She trusts me.
The realization hits me harder than any bullet ever could. In her sleep, she has dropped the mask, seeking the heat of the man she claims is just a "business transaction."
I watch her. The way her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips are slightly parted. She looks soft. She looks like something I should protect with everything I fucking have. I want to reach out and tangle my fingers in her hair, to pull her so close that our heartbeats become a single, frantic pulse, but I don’t. I just breathe her in—jasmine, and amber.
Damn it. I’m falling for a girl who’s probably going to be the death of me.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s a low, aggressive hum that shatters the peace of the room. I grab it before the second buzz, my eyes narrowing as I read the text.
Emergency. Matteo’s. Now.
Gia stirs, a soft, sleepy moan escaping her throat as she feels me shift. She doesn't wake, but she clings to me for a second longer, her fingers curling into the hair on my chest before she settles back into the pillows. I wait until her breathing goes deep and even again before I slide out of bed, the cold air hitting my skin like a goddamn insult.
I’m dressed and out the door in five minutes.
Matteo’s mansion is a fortress, even more so than mine. The security in the foyer is triple-manned, and the air inside smells like stale coffee and high-stakes tension. I find Dante and Enzo already in the study, their faces grim in the harsh light of the morning.
"What's the fuck-up this time?" I growl, dropping into a leather chair. My shoulder gives a sharp, biting throb, a reminder that I’m still not a hundred percent.
Matteo slides a file across the desk. "The O’Rourkes didn't just hit the warehouse, Rafe. We just got word that one of our secondary supply lines in the north was intercepted last night. It was a minor leak—just a timing window—but it was enough. They knew exactly when the guards would be swapping shifts."
"Two leaks in a month," Enzo mutters, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
I scan the file, my jaw tightening. "We checked the transport leads. We checked the security details. Everyone who had the pings passed the sweep."
"Maybe the sweep wasn't deep enough," Matteo says quietly. He looks me straight in the eye, his expression unreadable. "Rafe, we need to consider every possibility. Every person who has access to the inner circle. Your house. My house. The people we sleep next to."
The temperature in the room drops twenty degrees. I feel the anger rising in my throat, a dark, hot tide.
"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Matteo, you better choose your next words very goddamn carefully."
"I'm being a pragmatist," Matteo growls. "Gia is a De Luca. Her father is Salvatore. We know he’s a manipulative prick who uses his daughters like currency. We have to at least ask the question."
"I asked," I snap, leaning forward, my good hand slamming onto the desk. "I checked her. I checked her staff. She doesn't have access to the encryption keys. She spends her days reading books, for fuck’s sake."
"She’s smart, Rafael," Dante pipes in. "And she’s a survivor. Don't let your feelings for her cloud the goddamn facts."
