“But, since you’ve accompanied me here tonight, I would handle that scenario differently. Your safety comes first. The elimination of the attackers is paramount, but only to ensure your well-being. Going after them, if it means leaving you behind, is less important. Meaning, Vasilisa, you are my highest priority, but also undeniable liability.”

“So why did you bring me, if I’m such a liability?” I choke out.

Rafael’s eyes crease at the corners as a small smile tugs his lips. He bends forward and wraps his arm around my waist, slowly lifting me flush against him. I grab his shoulders for support, alarmed by the fact that he’s bearing my whole weight with only one arm. But Rafael doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. His eyes never waver from mine while he raises the tumbler in his other hand and casually takes a sip.

“Because, believe it or not,” he says as he puts the now empty glass on the table beside him, “I enjoy your company way too much. And I’ve missed our chats.”

I suck in a breath, unable to look away from his eyes. Our faces are so close that his warm breath brushes my skin. My lips. “You would risk getting shot, all so you could talk to me someplace I can’t simply ignore you?”

“Any day,” Rafael growls before his mouth descends on mine.

The taste of him invades me. Fire spreads through my veins, the most consuming flame searing me from the inside. God, I’ve missed him, too.

I tried distancing myself from thoughts of him, hoping that doing mundane tasks would somehow help lessen the dangerous, messed-up feelings I’d been developing for Rafael. Over the past week, I’ve reorganized his walk-in twelve times, simply because touching his things brought me comfort. Aside from sex, we haven’t touched at all. No kisses outside the bedroom. I’ve tried to tell myself that this pull I feel toward him is nothing more than a sexual attraction. It’s not.

And this kiss proves it. As I kiss him back, the sensation overrules everything else. Common sense. Self-preservation. Suffocating guilt. Nothing matters, except him.

When his lips leave mine, our eyes remain locked, and suddenly, I can’t seem to get enough air.

“Is kissing in public considered impolite in Sicily?” I ask as he lowers me back to the ground. An unexpected hush has descended upon the room. No one is talking. They are all just gaping at us. “Why is everyone staring?”

“They’ve been staring since the moment you stepped into the room. It was curiosity and surprise at first. Now, I’m pretty sure they’re simply terrified of you.”

I don’t get the chance to ask what the hell he means about people being afraid of me because my eyes catch on the dark crimson stain spreading across Rafael’s shirt.

“Rafael . . .” I take the side of his jacket and move it away. A big area on his left side is soaked in blood. “Dear God. What happened?”

“A minor slip-up in my assessment. I wrongly concluded this won’t need stitches.” He rights his jacket and buttons it as if there’s no issue at all. “Guido will take care of me when we get back.” His tone remains calm, but there’s something else swirling in his green depths now. “There should be a singer coming up soon to give a little performance, and the servers will be bringing out the cassata cake. I think you’ll like it.”

“We’re not waiting for a damn cake while you’re bleeding all over the place!” I whisper-yell.

“It’s a Sicilian specialty. You have to try it.”

I stare at him in shock. “You need a doctor.”

“Guido can handle it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I meant for your head, придурок!”

Rafael’s lips tilt into a devious smirk. “Is that a Russian pet name, vespetta?”

“It means ‘moron’!” I sneer through my teeth, grab his arm, and pull him toward the exit.

Shocked faces stare at us while people part to let us pass. Rafael doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that I’m basically dragging him through the hotel lobby. There’s actually a slight smirk flashing across his features.

“I guess this means we’re not staying for cake?” he asks as we step outside.

“You guessed right.”

“Mm-hmm. I think you might like me after all, Vasilisa, just a tiny bit. Skipping dessert for my sake? I feel rather special.”

Ugh. This man. I watch him closely, throwing frequent looks at him as we traverse the parking lot to Rafael’s SUV, looking for signs of distress. He seems fine. Is that normal? How much blood has he already lost?

Once we reach the wicked-looking Maserati, I tug on the lapel of his suit jacket. “Bend over, please. I need to check your pupils.”

Rafael braces a hand on the car roof and leans forward until his face hovers right in front of mine. I cup his jawline with my palms and tilt his head slightly to the side, toward the lamplight. My God, his eyes are so beautiful. There’s a glint to them that reminds me of the sea glass I found at the shore. Opalescent. And brazenly focused on me. And when he looks at me as he is now, I get the impression that he wants to swallow me whole. Every time, it makes me weak in the knees.

“Why are you checking my pupils, Vasilisa?” he asks, his voice rumbly.

“I’m not sure. Doctors do it in the movies all the time.” I move a stray strand of hair off his forehead.

“A pupil test is done to check for brain injury. It has nothing to do with bleeding.”

“Well, I’m checking them regardless. Stay still.”

His eyes appear normal to me. But his skin feels warm. I touch his temple with my fingertips, then his cheek with the back of my hand. Fuck, I can’t figure it out. Lifting on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his forehead.

Rafael goes stiff as a board, his every muscle rigid with tension.

“What are you doing?” he asks. The tone of his voice is strange. I can tell he’s uneasy, but I haven’t a clue why.

“Checking for fever.” I reposition my lips to his temple. Then back to his forehead. Nope, his temperature seems fine. For now. I brush my knuckles down his cheekbone. “We should hurry. You need to take antibiotics.”

Rafael cocks his head to the side and dips lower, his eyes boring into mine. “I already took some. But if it’ll make you less worried, I’ll take them again.”

“I don’t think that’s how meds work,” I choke out, mesmerized by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“And I didn’t expect you to fret about my well-being.”

“Of course I’m worried! We’re practically in the middle of nowhere. It’s at least a half-hour ride back to the estate. How are you going to drive in your condition?”

“What condition?”

“The you’re-bleeding-all-over-the-place condition!” I shout while tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

“My blood vessels aren’t doing the driving, vespetta.”

A frustrated whimper leaves my lips. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, then grab his arm, shaking him.

“How can you be so fucking unruffled? You’re hurt! What if you go into shock? Or bleed out? I don’t know first aid, Rafael! And what if I need to get you to the ER, and you’re unresponsive? I don’t even know your blood type! Or if you have any allergies to drugs. What if—”

Rafael’s mouth crushes mine. As usual, when he kisses me, I completely forget everything but him.

“You can drive,” he mumbles into my lips. “Or we can just get in the car, and you can ride my cock. Make sure my blood is redirected elsewhere.”

I bite his lower lip. Hard. Then, force myself to break the kiss. “Keys.”

Rafael’s eyes narrow into smirky slits while he takes the keys out of his pocket and drops them on my extended palm. I hoist myself into the driver’s seat, reaching for the wheel. But it and the pedals might as well be in a different time zone.