He did keep his promise from that night, though—to help replace those awful memories with something sweeter. And for a brief, blissful time afterwards, the nightmares stopped tormenting me.
I’m near the back of the supermarket when my spine prickles with sudden awareness. I’m not alone. Pure instinct sends my hand to my concealed weapon just as dim lights flicker on overhead, bathing the entire store in a faint yellowish glow.
I move carefully, keeping my steps feather-light as I weave through the aisles, trying to spot the intruder before they spot me, my fingers never leaving my holster.
There—a very tall shadow lurking near the condiment aisle.
I duck behind the spice rack and carefully peek over. The figure is tall, unmistakably male, with broad shoulders and short-cropped hair. He’s wearing a fitted black suit that hugs his lean frame like a second skin. And the way he moves… it’s familiar, so familiar.
Then he turns his head towards my hiding spot, and eventhough a black mask covers the lower half of his face, recognition slams into me.Rafael.
There’s no mistaking that lithe figure. Those arresting eyes that glint even from this distance.
He tilts his head the slightest bit, looking down at me like he’s been waiting for this moment. “Since you’re here,piccola,I assume you now realize how wrong you’ve been? How could I dedicate this place to you, to rid you of your nightmares, only to create more for you?” His voice is quiet, but every word hits hard, tugging at the strings of my already racing heart.
My hand drops away from my holster, and I step out from behind the shelf. “What are you doing here?”
23
RAFAEL
“Stalking me again?” she demands when I remain quiet. But I only watch her as she slowly walks towards me, Roberto’s words from our meeting earlier tonight echoing in my mind.
“Last I checked, this is my private property andyouare trespassing.” How can she be so goddamn reckless by coming here all by herself, especially after poking so deeply into mafia business? Does she have no idea what danger she’s putting herself in? I try to breathe through my sudden, violent anger at her for puttingusthrough this.
She comes to a stop in front of me, tilting her head up to meet my eyes. Those beautiful honey-gold irises blink at me, and it feels like she’s looking straight into my soul. The vulnerability there is a seduction more potent than any deliberate attempt could ever be.
“Why have you been nice to me? So… gentle? I betrayed you. Iknowthat hurt you. But you never retaliated. That must have gone against every instinct you have.” She speaks quietly, her eyes searching mine.
There’s something new about her. A softness. It’s in her voice, her posture, her gaze. I was only half-joking when I askedif she now realizes how wrong she’s been, but maybe I wasn’t far from the truth. And that—that small crack in her armor—compels me to be honest with her. No—itdragsthe words out of my throat. Because I want more of this version of her. This softness.
“Because it’s you, Emilia.”Because you’re my heart. And you don’t cut out your heart just because it does something you don’t like.
Impossibly, her eyes go even softer, melting into liquid honey as she steps into my space. My heart constricts painfully, the room spinning in a slow, surreal whirl. She tilts her head up even more, nodding at something above.
Frowning, I follow her gaze—and see it. A mistletoe. Dangling right above my head. My pulse kicks into overdrive as different possibilities speed through my brain. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it,piccola?” My voice is thick as smoke, and it seems to affect her because her lashes flutter.
Then she closes the final distance between us, and for several charged moments, we just stare at each other. I force my breathing to remain steady despite my thundering heart, unwilling to reveal just how much she affects me. But when she lifts her right hand and places it flat against my chest, heat explodes from that point of contact and shoots straight down to my groin.
I ball my hands into fists to keep from touching her. This is the first time in ten years she’s ever initiated contact with me. I need to see how far she’s willing to go.
Emilia rises onto her tiptoes, and I find myself hunching slightly to meet her halfway. Her soft lips graze the edge of my jaw, just above the mask, trailing upward along my cheekbone. Every brush sends lightning through my veins, my nails digging crescents into my palms from the effort of restraint.
She hesitates, her fingers curling around the edge of the mask. I don’t stop her.
Slowly, she tugs it down.
The cool air kisses my lips just before hers do. She leans in again, pressing soft kisses along the curve of my now-exposed cheek, my ear, the bridge of my nose. The delicate touches are both heaven and hell—too much and nowhere near enough.
I can’t take it anymore. I twist my neck, and our lips collide. She freezes for a heartbeat, and in that suspended moment, I wonder what she’ll do. But then—Christ—she deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue into my mouth.
My cock stiffens immediately, hardening to painful granite as blood rushes south with dizzying speed.Fuck. My hands fly to the back of her head, and it takes every fragment of self-control I possess to pull back instead of devouring her whole.
Her eyes have darkened to midnight pools, swirling with desire, need… and affection. The latter nearly breaks my resolve. “I’m not going to fucking stop this time.” My voice is guttural, barely recognizable even to my own ears.
She blinks up at me once, then glances around the empty supermarket, the faint hum of the refrigerators the only thing breaking through the charged silence. Then, she looks back at me. “Good.”
Fucking hell.
