“Well, let the underboss know I’ll keep it in mind.” I tighten my hold on Vasilisa’s waist and motion toward the bar. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“Gummy Bear?” Rafael asks as we walk up to the bar.
“Seemed like a suitable name for an eye candy.” I shrug. “What was that discussion about? It sounded pretty serious.”
“Nazario subtly informed me that my godfather seems to be losing the support of some Cosa Nostra members.”
“Are they going to oust him from power?”
“If he fucks up, yes.” He passes me the beverage handed to him by the bartender.
“Never a shortage of drama in the Cosa Nostra world.” I take a sip of my drink. “Grape juice? Really?”
“I’ve noticed that alcohol doesn’t agree with you.” He places his hand on the small of my back and ushers us back toward the mingling crowd.
This cocktail party is being hosted in the lobby of an antique building. The grand foyer features a domed ceiling, decorated with intricate hand-painted scenes depicting lush gardens of paradise. The elaborate details are everywhere—walls, columns, inlaid colored marble.
My eyes glide over the tiled floor with its incredible floral mosaic, then across the ornate floor-to-ceiling windows, and settle on the stucco decor and humongous old-looking paintings.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside such a beautiful building,” I whisper.
“It was the summer mansion of a seventeenth-century nobleman who got rich through the silk trade,” Rafael says. “He lost it in a game of cards, and the property changed hands quite a few times over the next four hundred years. When it went up for sale two years ago, it was basically a ruin. The complete restoration took nearly a year and a half.”
“I can’t believe they’ve kept everything the same. Even the wall paintings?”
“Those are called frescos. And yes, they’ve been restored, as well.”
My eyes slide back to him. “You know the new owner?”
“Quite well, actually. An unscrupulous motherfucker that one. But he has a weakness for cultural relics”_Rafael reaches out and brushes my cheek with his knuckles_“heritage . . . and . . . a feisty little hacker who keeps rejecting his gifts.”
The musicians switch to a slower melody, a highly emotional piece with a violin in the lead. Everyone is having a great time, but I’m only partially aware of the people moving around us. I’m completely tuned in on Rafael, ensnared in the twin green beams that seem to blaze right through me.
“Should I take that as a compliment? Being called a weakness doesn’t sound like much of one,” I whisper.
“It depends on your view of such things.” His hand moves along my chin. “Let’s say someone opens fire right now. There’s a high probability of that happening, considering the number of enemies I have. If I were alone, I’d simply go for my gun and neutralize the threat. If I had to give chase, I’d do it. There wouldn’t be anything here that would distract me from accomplishing that objective.
“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!”
