I blink. “Hm?”
“Could we please get back to Nick Carraway?”
There’s a lot I’d like to say to her but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Especially not when I can barely understand what it is I’m feeling myself.
Still the beginnings of an idea start to take root in my mind. A need I know I won’t be able to dispel.
This girl, with her soft mouth and beautiful eyes. She’s mine.
She belongs to me.
And while that might complicate things a little. Or a lot. I know I’m going to have to do something about it.
“Sure thing, little siren.”
Now all that’s left to do is figure out a way to get her to see my side of things.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LILIANA
I’m having a plate of Froot loops when a man waltzes into the kitchen like he owns the place.
And considering I’m very familiar with the owner, I’m pretty sure this man with his long dark hair and quicksilver smile does not in fact own the house. It’s one of Rafaelle’s henchmen. I don’t know his name but I remember him offering to show me to the library yesterday. I also remember the way Rafaelle had reacted to that.
Which explains the wariness in his expression as he heads for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water without even glancing in my direction.
“Good afternoon,” I greet cordially.
He takes a swig of water, nodding once but he doesn’t say a word. My lips pull up in an amused smile.
“What’s your name?”
“Raul,” he drawls in slightly accented English. “You’re not supposed to be speaking to me, miss Navarro.”
“Zaccari,” I correct through clenched teeth. “And don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can speak to me. I don’t bite.”
“Rafaelle stabs.”
My smile widens. A part of me is annoyed by the whole possessive caveman attitude but another part feels a little warm at his obvious disapproval when it comes to me talking to his men.
There’s a lot wrong with me, but I’m coming to accept that fact. And ever since yesterday, I can’t even find it within me to hate Rafaelle anymore. He was patient and soft and he let me see parts of himself he hides from the world. It was so easy to open up to him. Whenever I’m around Rafaelle, it doesn’t feel like we’re worlds apart. It feels like it’s just us, in a little bubble, separate from anything and everything. We were in the library for the better part of the day. He was extremely helpful and he made everything we worked on so much easier.
Rafaelle may be brash, violent and annoying. But he’s also intuitive and intelligent. Like an onion, he has a lot of layers. And every time he lets me see past a layer, my heart grows warmer towards him.
There’s a certain type of courage in accepting the worst parts of yourself. Even the parts that are attracted to an Italian mobster.
“I have a question, Raul,” I begin.
“I’m sure the boss would be more than happy to answer your questions, miss.”
“He’s not here right now,” I remind him.
He left over an hour ago after breakfast. Which had been nice enough, except for the fact that Rafaelle had mostly been on his phone, texting someone.
“What would you like to know?” Raul says with a sigh.
“Who’s Vicky?”
