“What happened to my attackers?”
His eyes darken with satisfaction, and his smile turns predatory. “Let’s just say that they met their waterloo.”
Waterloo? Could he be any more vague? I refuse to be deterred. “Were they really FBI agents? Did you find out who sent them?”
“When I was at your apartment, I took the opportunity to have some professional packers collect your things. Don’t worry—I supervised the entire process personally. Made sure nothing went missing.”
“What?!Rafael.” I inhale sharply, fighting to rein in my temper. That son of a—he’s trying to piss me off on purpose to distract me. He knows exactly what buttons to push, most likely knows how much I hate people pawing through my things.
I’m annoyed as hell, but I force myself to stay focused. Keeping my glare trained on him, I slowly breathe in and out. If I let him get away again with dodging this question, I might never find out what happened. Just like with my father’s death.
It takes the will of a saint to push past my anger over violated privacy, but somehow I manage. I take another deep inhale. “What. Did. You. Find. Out. About. My. Attackers?”
He does a double take, like he’s genuinely surprised I saw through his deflection. Then his lips curl up the slightest bit, and I catch a glint of what looks like pride in his chrome eyes. “I couldn’t find any identification on them,” he says finally. “And their mouths remained stubbornly shut throughouttheir…ordeal. However, I did confirm they were highly trained and possessed government-issued weapons.”
My blood runs cold. “So they were federal agents.”
He shrugs. “They’re dead now, and whoever sent them probably knows it already,andknows not to fuck with you again or face my wrath. That's all that matters.”
Dead.Part of me should be horrified. The other part—the part that remembers the fear, the pain, the helplessness—feels a savage satisfaction.
My heart softens slightly, lessening some of my anger about the packing situation. “You still shouldn’t have packed my things without asking,” I can’t resist saying.
“I’m sorry,amorina,but you’re not leaving this house again, and I figured you’d be more comfortable with your things around you. I even brought our first child with me.”
Our first child.I narrow my eyes on him but don’t bother arguing. What would be the point? Hedidget me the darned azalea plant, and Ididnurture it like it was our baby—just like he wrote in that note when he first gave it to me.
He adjusts his cufflinks, and for the first time, it sinks in that he’s fully dressed in an expensive suit. “An important meeting came up after the announcement of our engagement last night, so I have to go. Some people will come to help you choose your wedding dress and everything else you might need for the big day.”
It was announced already?My stomach gurgles nervously. “Rafael.” I wait until he meets my gaze before saying, “I’d like to see Katie.”
The change in his expression is immediate and dramatic. His eyes darken ominously, his lips pressing into a thin line. I know his answer before he even utters it.
“No. You’re not leaving this house until after our wedding—for your own safety. And that’s final.”
33
RAFAEL
“Thank you for this.”
The hint of a smile in Emilia’s voice makes me snap my attention away from the sidewalk, where I’ve been cataloging every shadow, every potential threat, to her face as we pull up in front of Gianna’s hospital.
Sheissmiling.Actually fucking smiling.And for the first time in longer than I can remember, it’s directed at me.Me.The smile is for me.
Suddenly, giving in to her ridiculous demand to see her friend feels like the smartest decision I’ve made all week. My mind is already racing, calculating what other concessions I can make to earn another one of those rare, precious smiles.
“Remember, we can’t stay too long,” I remind her, twisting my wrist to check the time. My meeting with the made men in my city is in less than an hour. Officially, they want to update my brothers and me about their territories, but I know what they really want to do is to scrutinize my upcoming nuptials.
Emilia nods as Alfred kills the engine.
Behind us, two more cars filled with my men slow to a stop and park. They emerge just as Enzo opens my door, and I stepout, immediately extending my hand to her. I help her down, watching her face with hawk-like intensity, waiting for any wince or grimace that would give me an excuse to end this visit and whisk her back to safety. But her expression remains carefully schooled like she knows exactly what I’m on the lookout for.
My jaw tightens with frustrated admiration. Even injured, even vulnerable, she’s still fighting me at every turn.
Placing my palm on the small of her back, I guide her towards the hospital entrance. A gust of wind tosses her hair across her face, and my hand moves instinctively to brush it away. But she beats me to it, using her left hand to tuck the honey strands behind her ear, and my heart damn near stops when my ring catches the light.
Primal possessiveness spears through me. That’s my mark on her.She’s mine.
