A slight shiver runs down my spine when Rafael takes my chin and tilts my head to face him. His eyes bore into mine and, for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“If you’re wrong, you’ve just signed my man’s death sentence.” His voice is low and slightly menacing, but the look in his eyes holds no threat. Just awe. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I say, exhaling the pent-up breath.
Rafael nods and releases my chin, then turns and dictates the code to Allard. Bewildered, I stare at Rafael’s harsh profile. No further questions. He doesn’t ask me to confirm one more time. Does not demand an explanation of why I’m confident that my conclusion is correct, or has Mitch double-check it. He is simply ready to risk his man’s life on my word alone. He’s trusting me and my skills by doing so. Believes in me.
A sense of satisfaction and pride swells within me, invading every single cell of my being. All those times I’ve aced tests in college can’t compare to this feeling.
I look back to the screen where Allard is now facing the control panel at the door, his camera zoomed on the tiny narrow screen above the keypad. I suck air into my lungs and hold it, watching him input the numbers. When he enters the last digit, there’s a barely audible click, but it echoes like thunder through the line.
It worked.
Rafael reaches out to his phone and turns it off, then closes the lid of the laptop. In that instant, sitting on his lap completely still, I become hyperaware of every point of contact between our bodies and every sensation that each connection evokes. His thick, heavily muscled arm wrapped around my waist. The warmth that seeps from his chest as he presses it to my aching back. The faint tingling of my cheek where his stubble brushes my skin.
“I never would have thought of that.” Deep, smoky voice right next to my ear. “Have you found a list of my passwords, as well?”
“Yes,” I utter. “You really need something more creative than desanti1234 for your online banking app.”
A sultry rumble of a laugh vibrates through me. “Have you been tempted to send another donation to a church choir, perhaps?”
I can’t suppress the grin pulling at my lips. “Very much.”
Rafael lightly brushes my chin with his thumb. “Thank you for helping save my friend’s life.”
“A friend?” I raise an eyebrow. “And here I thought your employees are just that—employees. Would he have really killed himself to avoid being captured?”
“Undoubtedly. When I first met Allard, he was rotting away in a cell of a Chinese prison, convicted of political espionage on behalf of France. His less-than-gracious hosts had been ‘working’ him for weeks, and he kept insisting on his innocence and that he came to China as a student in a foreign exchange program. I busted him out of that hellhole.”
“So you saved an innocent man. That’s noble. But what were you doing in a Chinese prison?”
“Following through on the hit contract for the French government—eliminating their most praised, yet recently compromised asset.” A wicked smile pulls on Rafael’s lips. “Zacharie Allard.”
I snort. “So, not innocent after all?”
“Nope.”
“You dropped the job, then?”
“I called my contact in the French government and told them I had the kid. I also relayed to them that their man hadn’t broken his cover. They still insisted I proceed with neutralizing him anyway.” Rafael’s jaw hardens. “Allard withstood days of intense physical and mental torture, all without spilling a single secret. And his superiors still decided to reward his loyalty with a death sentence. So, yes, I dropped the contract.”
“And recruited Allard to work for you.”
“Of course. I offered him triple the pay he was getting from his treacherous agency. It was one of the best deals I’ve ever made.”
“Don’t you think that, maybe, you saving his life had something to do with him agreeing to work for you? Not the money.”
“Money is the ultimate force that makes the world go round. People may not like that truth, but it doesn’t make it less real.” His finger is on my lips now, tracing the shape of the lower one.
“You’re wrong,” I mutter, captivated by his eyes peering into mine.
“I didn’t peg you for naive, vespetta. But you’re young and still have much to learn.”
Rafael’s phone starts to ring again. The touch on my lips disappears as he picks up the device off the desk and presses it to his ear.
“Guido? Cosa è successo?”
As soon as Guido starts talking on the other end of the line, Rafael leaps out of the chair. With me still seated on his lap, and him maintaining a viselike hold around my waist, I end up dangling half a foot above the floor, my back plastered to his chest.
“Rafael!” I tug on his forearm. “Do you mind?”
The hold around my middle loosens just a tiny bit. Just enough to let me slowly slide down his body, allowing me to feel the brush of every inch of that rock-hard front against me.
“Merda. Venti minuti,” he barks into the phone.
The hand still on my hip disappears and, the next moment, Rafael is heading across the room, toward the door that leads to the bedroom. He’s still speaking in rapid Italian, and even though I don’t have the faintest idea what he’s saying, the clipped tone of his voice makes it clear that something is wrong. In a few long strides, he cuts the call and steps inside “my” room.
I dash after him, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor. With no hoodies or baggy pants available at Albini’s, my new wardrobe consists of skinny jeans, shorts, and pretty blouses. I did get some canvas sneakers, but they’re still boxed and pushed under the bed because I’ve been wearing heels most of the time.
I can’t remember the last time I dressed so prettily and didn’t feel bad as a result. There’s no difference in Rafael’s behavior toward me, either—he treats me exactly the same as he did while I walked around in his tent-size shirts. It’s such a fucking relief. Yet, at the same time, I’ve been feeling slightly frustrated. Today, I put on a blouse with a particularly low neckline, and he hasn’t glanced at my breasts even once. Not that I want him to.
Well, maybe a little.
Ugh.
This man confuses all my senses, and I don’t even know what I want anymore.
I catch up with Rafael as he’s stepping into the walk-in closet. Momentarily confused about his intentions, I almost miss as he presses his thumb to the small wall-mounted screen behind the row of his suits. A barely audible click sounds and the back wall of the closet begins to slide to the side. The next instant, Rafael disappears into a previously hidden room.
