Page 24 of Married to the Enemy

He grinned, showing off straight, white teeth that definitely hadn’t been dulled by drugs or neglect. Not the grin of a drifter. Not the grin of the man she had assumed he was. No, this was a man who took care of himself. A man who was dangerous for all the wrong reasons, because his smile made her want to trust him.

“I make ends meet,” he replied, his tone equally vague.

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

His chuckle was low, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He mimicked her stance, folding his arms over his massive chest. The movement only made his muscles bunch, stretching the fabric of his T-shirt.

Mia forced herself to hold her ground, to look unimpressed. To pretend she wasn’t imagining what it would feel like to step into those arms, to press her forehead against his chest, to hear his heartbeat under her ear while he promised her things no one had ever promised her before. That her nonna would be safe. That Freddy’s legs could be fixed. That she could stop running and just breathe.

But she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

“Is he going to be okay?” she whispered at last, the words nearly lost to the silence that pressed in on them.

The question needed no clarification.

“Yeah,” Raffe said, his answer immediate, certain. His voice was quiet but it carried weight, steadying her like an anchor. “He is. As long as I can get him into the surgery.”

She nodded, the hush between them settling in once again. The house creaked faintly, as if leaning in to listen. Beyond the kitchen windows, the night was velvet-dark, the gardens outside whispering with the faint stir of leaves. Inside, every sound felt amplified—the tick of the clock, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the soft catch of her own breath.

“And your grandmother?” he asked after a beat.

The words hit hard. She tensed before she caught herself and forced herself to relax. “I’ll take care of her,” she said quickly, defensively. “My nonna won’t be a burden.”

“Of course not,” he agreed immediately. “She’s a nice lady.”

He shifted then, pushing off the wall. His arms dropped to his sides, and for a moment, her eyes betrayed her, returning to those strong forearms, to the way his shoulders filled the space between them. She hated herself for wanting what she shouldn’t want—his strength wrapped around her, his voice whispering reassurances in her ear.

“I can help, you know,” he added, softer this time. “You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

Mia’s throat went dry. Help. The one thing she craved and the one thing she couldn’t afford to accept. Not from anyone. Not from him. Help always came with strings—her father had taught her that lesson far too well.

“I’m fine,” she said, the words clipped, a reflex. Her chin tilted stubbornly.

He studied her for a long beat, the silence between them thickening until she felt it vibrating in her bones.

“Why don’t we get some sleep? Tomorrow’s going to be another busy day.”

He was right. She was exhausted. But her mind wouldn’t slow down. There was too much to guard against, too many shadows prowling outside these walls. Her father wouldn’t take today’s humiliation in court lying down. He would strike back. He always did.

“You’re right,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m exhausted.”

“Your father’s going to come after you, isn’t he?”

Her head snapped up. His voice was steady, but his blue eyes, even muted by the dim light, were sharp, cutting right through her worries to the core of the issue.

The understanding there startled her. And, worse, it comforted her.

She shoved the comfort aside like it burned. “I know how to handle my father.” Her chin lifted higher, defiance written in every line of her posture.

He grinned, and again, she was caught off guard by how much warmth that easy smile carried, even though she knew damn well that he was hiding something.

Secrets were dangerous. She had to remember that.

Turning, she took a step toward the door, but his voice stopped her.

“Mia.”

She turned back slowly.