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Elena
Iwas a mess. Blundering from one hot emotion to another was exhausting. Rafe admitting to being one of the infamous Luciano family like it was a regular job was messing with my head. Going to the bathroom and getting a threatening text from Hugh revealing that he knew where I lived was too much. I was done.
I observed the man opposite me. Was there anything wrong with giving in and letting him take care of me? I needed help, and I sure as shit didn’t have anyone else. Rafe was too hot for me to handle, that was for sure, and the fantasies that I’d been indulging in were clearly one-sided. He was older than me, richer, and powerful beyond measure. I was a washed-up twenty-one-year-old virgin without health insurance.
The gap between us felt like a chasm. He probably pitied me. The thought made my stomach clench. If there was anything that growing up on the breadline watching my mother beg and borrow money for my lessons had instilled in me, it was how deeply I hated being pitied. We’d survived off charity from our well-meaning but sometimes condescending neighbors when I was growing up, and now, I was fiercely independent. Being paid for and coddled because a sexy, experienced older man had sympathy for my pathetic broken dreams wasn’t my style, but I was all out of choices.
break
Later, I lay in the same bed I had escaped only this morning and watched the shadows move across the ceiling as the hours of night ticked by. What was I going to do if my ankle didn’t heal correctly? Even if it did, there would always be the faint muscle memory of the injury. It would haunt me. I should go and see mum, I thought, turning over and burrowing into the covers and wishing I could disappear forever. The sheets smelled like Rafe. Odd for a guest room.
I sucked down the scent like nectar. I didn’t judge Rafe for his line of work. You couldn’t pick your family. I didn’t worry that he busted skulls, or kneecaps, or whatever for a living. I’d lived in plenty of sketchy places with gangs, and Rafe’s job was a step up from that. He seemed to be top of the heap in criminal terms, and I respected the work ethic needed to get there. Hard work was hard work, and if Rafe dealt with men like Hugh, then I didn’t care. Scary, dangerous men who dabbled in dark things should answer for their actions. It might be the only time a man like Hugh James, with all his rich privileges, had answered for anything.
The thought warmed me enough to fall asleep.
* * *
We fell into a routine—ifan injured ballerina and a bad boy mafia enforcer who lived like roommates could have such a thing. Giacomo came by every day to check on my ankle and to do therapy with me. I shuddered to think of the cost but sucked down every piece of advice he gave me. His daughter, Nicoletta, wasn’t welcome or allowed in Rafe’s house. Luckily, I knew nothing bad had happened to her as Giacomo thanked me for my intervention.
I tried to wake up before Rafe and make breakfast, but he would usually sweep into the kitchen and “tut” about my efforts, insisting I rest. Once I burned coffee in his expensive-looking machine, and I thought he was going to throw himself off the balcony. So I retreated to the bedroom and watched TV and read. I numbed myself to the fact that I was living with the hottest guy in the city, who was treating me like he’d personally smashed my ankle with a hammer and owed me a debt until it was fixed.
His sympathy was a tough pill to swallow, but what other choice did I have?
“Where does your mother stay?”Rafe asked one evening a week into our roommate situation as he chopped up a salad. He always cooked so methodically. Even the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber were neatly laid out in piles for assembling the salad.
I sat on the kitchen island before him and watched.“Three towns over. It takes about an hour on the bus to go there.”
“Do you wish to go and visit her?” he asked, washing his hands.
He’d rolled his button-down shirt at the wrist, and his forearms were calling to me. Tanned and dusted with hair, they were muscled and capable-looking, and I couldn’t look away.
“No. She can’t see me like this. It’d upset her,” I blurted.
He raised an eyebrow at me.“Doesn’t it upset you not to be able to be comforted by her?”
I shrugged, pushing down the lonely feeling his question gave me.“I have you.”
It was meant to be a joke, but I felt Rafe’s eyes on me, and there was nothing humorous in his gaze.
“Yes, you do,” he agreed.
I took a long drink of water and tried to cool my overheated skin. Just one look from the man could set me on fire.“What about your mother?” I asked, changing the subject.
“She passed away when I was about your age.”
“Right, I keep forgetting how much older than me you are,” I teased him.
A frown crossed his brow.“I don’t.”
He said it so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. The age gap didn’t bother me. Hell, his experience and maturity were a turn-on like nothing else. Clearly, he didn’t see me the same way. I was the pitiful little kid he’d rescued.
“Stop pouting,” Rafe said, distracting me from my melancholy thoughts.
I sighed as he pushed my plate toward me.“Make me,” I muttered. He already thought I was a kid, so I might as well lean into it.
Rafe rested his arms on the counter, leaning toward me, and my heart jumped right up into my mouth at his proximity.“Be careful, angel, or I will,” he murmured, making my skin feel hot and tight.
He leaned away and reached for his phone as it rang in his pocket. After reading the screen, his dark eyes seemed to dampen. He dried his hands on a dishtowel and threw it onto the counter. “I have to go. Security will be outside,” he said in a clipped voice.
“But you haven’t eaten,” I pointed out. The steak he had cooked smelled so good. How could anyone walk away from that?
He plated mine and slid it to me along with the salad.“I don’t have a choice, Elena. I’ll see you tomorrow, rest and do your exercises,” he said, brisk now that he was leaving the kitchen. He stopped just behind me and kissed the top of my head before striding away.
That kiss confirmed Rafe’s feelings for me. If I needed evidence that this man saw himself as an older, platonic protector, that forehead kiss was it. I slumped against the counter and listened to the door shut. My chest was empty like he had taken something important from me and left. I felt like a deflated balloon. I couldn’t deny the truth. I had a raging crush on this man and no idea what to do about it.
