“Sorry, sorry! I was quickly gathering things so we can organize everything to be picked up and delivered to your house,” says Chiara as she slides in closer than she needs to be. “Ohhh, when I say it like that, I kinda feel like we’re an official couple,” she adds with a smirk, baiting me.
I cannot bite, even if I feel like I’m being lured in more ways than one. Her cute outfit for starters and the natural-makeup look that has me zeroing in on her soft lips. In place of her usual red lipstick is a light pink gloss that stirs up R-rated memories of other parts of her that glistened like that thanks to my mouth, fingers, and dick. The last of which is trying to let me know as much, stirring in my briefs. Clearly my pep talk did not work on him. Rules. That’s what we need—rules.
“How much stuff are we talking?”
“Hmmm, well, I flew in on a private jet, so baggage allowance wasn’t an issue, thus I come with a lot of baggage.” She winks.
Loosening the tension in my seatbelt, I turn my body so I’m facing her but my back is towards the door, putting some much-needed distance between our bodies. I school my face, givingher a stern look. “If we’re going to be roommates, we need some rules.”
“Well, rules can be fun,” she says, pumping her eyebrows at me and running her tongue over her luscious bottom lip. “What kinda rules are we talking?”
I cock my head to the side and glare at her in exasperation. I tighten my hold on the belt I still have in my hand, willing myself to fortify my boundaries and regain control of this slippery situation.
“Ones that will hopefully put a lid on whatever wild ideas you’re forming in your head.”
“Ugh, high-on-emotions Raf is way more fun,” she exclaims. “Come on, let me have ’em, Mr. No Fun.”
“One. Don’t leave shit lying around. I hate clutter; it stresses me out. Two. Do notsleepwalkinto my bedroom. It’s off limits. Similarly, I will not enter your space unless absolutely required. Three. No bringing guys back to the apartment. I don’t like strangers in my space.”
“Wait. So we can’t be friends with benefits, but I’m not allowed to hook up with anyone else either?”
“No. I like my privacy.” Even to my own ears I know how absurd it sounds. She wants a mutually beneficial arrangement with me. I denied her request, but I also won’t let her date—fuck or whatever—other guys. I pull at the neckline of my wool sweater, suddenly feeling overheated. I don’t want anyone else having her, touching her, kissing her the way I got to. Just the thought makes my body revolt. Does that make me a possessive asshole? Yes. Will I still insist on these rules regardless? Also yes.
“I like sex,” she volleys.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to abide by my rules and have your cake too.” I smirk at her. “I know how much you love a saying.”
“You’re going to regret this,” she says, reminding me again how much of a dangerous idea this is.
“Oh trust me, I know,” I agree, swiping a thumb over my lip. “So, can I ask you how you knew?”
She doesn’t need me to clarify.
“Marco’s pendant on the chain he always wears is the Gigioliotti family crest. All the boys in the family have one,” she reaches under the neckline of her top. “This was my dad’s,” she says softly, lifting it by the pendant to show me. “I was able to get a good picture of Marco’s one day and send it to my uncle to confirm.”
“I mean, now that I know, Marco’s resemblance to you and AJ is obvious. You all have the same green eyes.”
“Admit mine are the prettiest though.” She turns towards me fully with her hand under her chin, shrugging one shoulder as she flutters her eyelashes at me exaggeratedly.
“Your eyes are very beautiful.”
She clutches her chest in mock surprise. “Why, thank you. Who knew Big Bad Raf had it in him.”
“Your brattiness, not so much,” I finish with a mock glare.
“So what will happen to Arty now? Will you have to go to trial?” she asks softly.
“Well, first we’ll have to prove he’s guilty and then give the police enough evidence to press charges. The victims who have already come forward will be interviewed, and we’ll have to see if there are others. It won’t be an easy case to get to trial because he knows the law, and coming from a powerful family, he has the money to fight the charges. The only way we can win this is to present a case that shows he’s irrefutably guilty.”
“How long will that take?”
“Who knows. Months, sometimes years. But I’ll work around the clock if that’s what it takes to bring that bastard down.”
“If anyone can do it, I know you can,” she says sincerely, reaching over to squeeze my hand, holding it there for a beat.
“Thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I say, holding eye contact with said beautiful eyes, devoid of their usual mischievousness, replaced with something more akin to awe. Leaning into the realness of this moment, I lightly stroke my thumb over her knuckles and feel that same rush of warmth when we were skin to skin in the early hours of the morning deep in my belly.
She goes to remove her hand, but I take hold of it tighter.
