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"Even if Catalina doesn't press charges?"
"Regardless," he purses his lips.
As they continue their discussion on the different loopholes in Marcello's case, I can't help but notice that Eleanor keeps trying to strike up conversation with Raf.
Her expression doesn't hurt, as she looks at him as if she'd like nothing better than eat him alive.
I narrow my eyes at her just as I squeeze Raf's hand under the table.
"I haven't seen you around," she turns to him. "How do you know Vlad and Sisi?" she asks as she dares to bat her lashes at him.
"We're all family," he gives her a tight smile while turning his body towards me, a quiet signal that he's aware I'm not pleased.
"Really? Then we're probably going to see more of each other."
Raf doesn't reply.
The next course comes, and as we're eating, she keeps brushing her hand against his before bursting out into anoops, as if she's not aware of doing it.
Even Raf seems put off by her repeated actions, but is too polite to say anything.
I'm not.
As I lean across the table to get the basket of bread, I brush my hand intentionally against hers, gasping as I do.
"Are you ok?" I ask, doing my best to look concerned. "Your hand's been spasming for a while now. Do you need anything?"
Her mouth hangs open in shock before annoyance takes over.
"I'm so sorry, Rafaelo, did I scratch your sister?"
The little…
"She's my wife," he replies in a dry tone, his features murderous.
"I'm not his sister. I'm his wife," I say at the same time, satisfaction blooming inside of me when her expression turns sour.
She doesn't get to reply, though, as her father finally seems to take notice of her, pausing his conversation with Vlad to check on her.
"Are your hands trembling again?" He asks as if it's a common occurrence. "Did you take your medicine on time? You know you can relapse if you don't."
"I did, daddy. Don't worry about me," she smiles sweetly at him.
But the moment his attention is back on Vlad, so is hers on Raf, blatantly disregarding the fact that he has a wife, sitting by his side, as she continues to shoot annoying questions at him.
"Sorry," Raf mouths at me, holding my hand in his and trying to comfort me in any way he can.
I don't blame him for trying to be polite, especially since it's clear her father is someone potentially important to Marcello's case.
But as I spot her hand on histhigh, a few moments later, all bets are off.
Raf, the sweetheart that he is, takes her hand off with a strained smile as he moves his chair closer to me—all in an effort to comport himself civilly.
"I don't know how long my control will hold, pretty girl," Raf whispers in my ear, doing his best to maintain a pleasant smile on his face.
"I know, I know," I sigh, patting him affectionately on his thigh—as ismyright.
"Noelle," someone calls my name in a low voice.
