Chapter 24
Alina
Istare at my reflection in Raffaele’s bathroom mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at me. The black dress Susan helped me order hugs every curve of my body—curves I’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide.
The ruched square neckline shows more cleavage than I’m used to. The fitted waist cinches in before the fabric flares gently to my knees. I look… different. Not thin or perfect, but somehow put-together in a way that makes my heart race with nervous anticipation.
Tonight I’m meeting Raffaele’s family. Yep, I’m being introduced to the Russos and I’m freaking out. Even thinking about it sends a fresh wave of butterflies swarming through my stomach.
I lean closer to the mirror, applying a final swipe of mascara to my lashes. I’ve kept my makeup simple—just enough to enhance my features without looking like I’m trying too hard. My red hair falls straight down over my shoulders, the color a stark contrast against the black dress.
I briefly consider pinning it up, but Raffaele mentioned he likes it down. What he wants has become increasingly important to me, in ways that both terrify and thrill me.
With one final glance at my reflection, I open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom.
Raffaele stands by the window, his back to me, silhouetted against the late afternoon light. The cut of his black suit emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. When he turns, his eyes find mine immediately, then drop to take in my appearance with such naked hunger that heat floods my cheeks.
“Alina,” he says, my name emerging as a rough growl that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
He crosses the room in three long strides, circling me slowly, his gaze trailing over every inch of me like a physical touch. I resist the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, coming to stand before me. In his hand, a black velvet box appears that I hadn’t noticed before. “But something’s missing.”
Before I can ask what he means, he opens the box to reveal a diamond choker—a delicate band of sparkling stones that would circle my throat perfectly. The light catches on the facets, sending prisms dancing across his face.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the full-length mirror across the room.
A week ago, he knelt behind me in front of this mirror, his hands on my body as he played me like a Stratocaster. Herefused to let me look away while he showed me pleasure I’d never imagined possible.
The memory sends a flush of heat across my skin that has nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his fingers had felt against my most intimate places.
He positions me before the mirror, standing behind me just as he did that night. Our eyes meet in the reflection, and I know he’s remembering too.
“Lift your hair,” he instructs, his voice deliciously husky.
I gather my red locks and lift them away from my neck, exposing the vulnerable curve where my shoulder meets my throat. Raffaele steps closer, his chest brushing against my back as he brings the choker around my neck. The diamonds are cool against my heated skin.
His fingers work the clasp with practiced ease, and I wonder fleetingly how many other women he’s adorned with jewelry. The thought sends an unexpected pang of jealousy through me, which I try to suppress.
“There,” he says, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders as the choker settles into place. “Perfect.”
I stare at our reflection—his imposing six-foot-four height dwarfing my measly five-foot-seven. God, he’s huge. A behemoth, really. Not just in height, but in every inch of his body. Every muscle is worked and shaped to perfection, making him look as though he’s been carved from stone.
“What are you thinking about?” His rough voice penetrates my thoughts.
Blinking, I realize I’ve tilted my head to rest on the possessive hand clutching my shoulder. When did I do that? Clearing my throat, I lift my head and touch the diamonds.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper as they glitter at my throat like captured stars.
I try to decide if they overpower Mom’s necklace too much, but no. I’m not removing the necklace, even if it looks like cheap metal next to the choker.
“Just like you.”
My knee-jerk reaction is to accuse him of mocking me. But how can I when he looks at me like he is right now? Or when he spends nights worshiping my body without being selfish in his desire?
It’s all too much. I need to do something. Say something. “You’re giving me a collar now?” I attempt to joke, my voice coming out breathier than intended.
Raffaele’s eyes darken, his grip on my shoulder tightening just enough to send a shiver down my spine.
