“I warned you, Loretta,” he said quietly. “Keep Zara’s name out of your mouth, and you’ll be spared the worst of me.”
A pause.
“Always remember your place. You are in no position to tell me to stop anything.”
Each word was precise.
My breath hitched, but I didn’t look away.
“Don’t start something you’ll regret,” he said.
The warning should have sounded threatening.
Instead, it sounded strained.
Now that I could see him, I noticed things I never could before. The rigid set of his jaw. The tension pulling across his shoulders. The way his gaze kept dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes as though he resented himself for it.
I wondered if it had always been like this.
If all those times I had been blind, he had been looking at me this way while pretending not to.
My chest rose unevenly, but I refused to back down.
“The kiss,” I continued. “the way you held me when I fell asleep on your chest like I belonged there.” I shook my head, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. “You can’t do all of that and then pretend I mean nothing to you.”
The muscle in his jaw tightened.
“Am I really so unlovable?” My voice cracked, raw and ugly. “Tell me the truth, Rafael. If there’s even a shred of desire in you—if you feel anything when you look at me—just say it. Stop making me beg for scraps.”
He froze.
For one fleeting second, something flickered across his face—regret, maybe pity—but it vanished before I could name it.
He took two deliberate steps back, as if proximity to me was suddenly dangerous.
“I apologize if I ever gave you the wrong impression,” he said quietly, his tone painfully polite. “But no. I don’t desire you. Not in the way you want.”
The words landed like a blade between my ribs.
I had expected them, and yet the pain still stole the air from my lungs.
My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall.
I lifted my chin, clinging to the only weapon I had left—my family’s name.
“I already spoke to my brother. Vincenzo is coming for me in three days.”
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I hadn’t called Vincenzo. I’d burned every bridge with him months ago.
Rafael’s dark eyes widened slightly, the first real crack in his composure.
He knew exactly who my brother was. Everyone in our world did. The man who ruled Italy’s largest mafia empire with ice and blood.
I forced a sharp, brittle laugh. “I’d love to see you try to stop him from taking me. Go on, Rafael. Tell me how you’ll keep me here when he comes.”
For a moment he just stared at me, jaw tight.
Then something in his gaze shifted—hollowed out. The emptiness there hurt worse than any anger could have.
