The murder of his father.
Sandro’s kidnapping and torture, which nearly broke him. Raf carries his fury like a blade sheathed beneath silk, and watching him choose restraint instead of spectacle makes my pulse trip over itself.
We don’t speak as he steers me onto the dance floor, and my skin prickles with nervous anticipation at the thought of being close to him for an extended period. The music is slow, intimate, designed to pull bodies together and blur the lines between pretense and truth.
Raf turns to face me, one hand sliding from my back to my waist, the other lifting my hand as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
“Smile,” he murmurs. “They’re all watching.”
I do, allowing my features to relax into a genuine expression, though my heart feels like it’s pounding a mile a minute.
We sway together, his body warm and solid, the scent of him familiar enough to make my chest ache.
My cheek is close to his jaw, my fingers resting against his shoulder, and suddenly, the memory of him between my thighs, heavy and lost and whispering another woman’s name, crashes into me without mercy.
I want him—I always have, and with a desperation that’s beyond my comprehension—but God, I hate that I want him like I do.
My body doesn’t care about broken trust or old wounds.
It remembers how right he feels when he’s entwined with me, buried in my depths—how the world narrows down to heat and breath and need when I’m in his arms.
Forcing my thoughts back to something more appropriate, I replay the short yet loaded conversation with the Tanakas.
“How do you do that?” I ask quietly.
“Do what?”
“Stay so calm,” I say. “After everything they’ve done.”
His jaw tightens. “Losing control never helps.”
I think of his hand on my back, of his steady voice when he spoke to Tanaka, of the way rage never seems to leak from him unless he allows it.
Then I’m struck by the vision of me drunkenly shouting at him, how mortifyingly out of control my temper can be, especially when it comes to Raf. “I don’t know if I could,” I admit.
He looks down at me, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “You’re stronger than you think.”
The words settle between us, heavy with implication.
When the song ends, applause ripples through the room, and we step apart reluctantly.
That’s when I see my family.
My breath catches so sharply it hurts, and I’m slipping from Raf’s arms before I even think about what I’m doing.
Riley spots me first, and she lets out a delighted squeal, bolts across the crowded room, barreling into me with reckless joy. I barely have time to bend before she’s wrapping her arms around my neck, her curls bouncing, her laughter bright and unrestrained.
“There you are, Sissy!” she says. “I missed you!”
Scooping her into my arms, I hug her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, the familiar weight of her small body against mine as I twirl her, doing a little dance until she’s spilling over with laughter.
“I missed you too, bug,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
She pulls back, eyes shining. “When are you coming home?”
The question hits like a blade between my ribs, and I cringe as I glance toward Raf.
He’s watching us with open interest, the intensity of his gaze making my heart stutter.
