Page 8 of Amore - Part 2


  I sip the wine; it almost burns going down. I wish this would all go away.

  Rafael takes the glass from my hand and places it on the table beside us, then he takes my hand and leads me into the middle of the room, bringing me close, placing his hands on my hips. Despite the lack of music, he wants to dance. God dammit. I raise shaky hands and put them around his neck, meeting his eyes. I love him. I’m so incredibly in love with him. How the hell am I ever going to get past this?

  How will I ever live with myself?

  I meet his eyes and I can feel it—I can feel how much he loves me. I can feel how his body radiates it right into my soul. He’s the one. The love of my life. My son’s father. And I’m about to crush him like a bug.

  I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him, because if I have to look into his eyes a second longer I won’t cope. He welcomes the kiss like he always does, pulling me closer.

  I want him. Just once.

  “Raf,” I breathe against his lips. “I want you.”

  “Fuck,” he murmurs. “Finally.”

  I pull back, my fingers tangled in his hair. “I’m nervous . . . because . . . well . . .”

  He studies me. “What?”

  “I put on a little weight and . . . I just don’t feel . . .”

  He stops and presses a finger to my lips. “Don’t. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Julietta. You could be a hundred pounds heavier than you were when you left me and I’d still think that. Don’t ever hide yourself from me. You’re perfect.”

  Damn him. “Okay,” I whisper.

  He leans down and scoops me into his arms as if I haven’t gained a single pound and carries me to the bedroom. I had an easy enough birth, no tearing, no problems, so I hope he doesn’t notice.

  He pushes that thought away the second he lays me down on the bed and brings his hard body over mine, kissing every bad thought from my mind. I spread my legs, letting him shuffle between them, and then I kiss him with everything I have.

  He tastes so good.

  He feels even better.

  He kisses me until my head is spinning and my body is weak for him, then he pushes off and slowly lifts my dress over my head. My hands instantly go to my stomach. He tosses the dress, gives me a stern look, and growls, “Remove your hands, Julietta.”

  “No.”

  “This might be the first time in a while, but I will spank you. Now remove them.”

  “It’s just . . . it’s gross and—”

  His hands shoot down, jerking mine back. His eyes fall to my stomach and I’m terrified for the longest moment. Can he tell?

  His eyes flash back to mine. “You’re even more beautiful.”

  He always knows what to say.

  I swallow as he reaches around, unclasping my bra. He removes it and stares down at my fuller breasts. My milk has dried up, but they’re still slightly swollen because of the pregnancy and birth. “I’m certainly not complaining about these,” he growls, leaning down and catching my nipple in his mouth. “Perfect.”

  I whimper as fireworks shoot through my body and settle in my core. I need him. Hard and deep.

  “Raf,” I breathe.

  “Say that again,” he growls, moving down my body.

  “Raf,” I whisper as he slides my panties off.

  “Again,” he orders, taking my knees and spreading them wide.

  I clench my eyes shut. Can he tell?

  “Again,” he growls, swiping his finger through my flesh.

  “Raf.”

  “Fuck, I missed this.”

  He lowers his handsome face and captures my clit in his mouth, sucking it deep. I gasp and buck, arching up. He takes it deeper with a ferocity I’ve not felt from him. It’s almost painful. So perfect. I cry out, my fingers tangling in the sheets. His fingers find my opening, and he thrusts inside. I come so hard I arch up and scream his name. It’s been so long.

  He’s out of his clothes in seconds. He grabs my hips and drags me to the end of the bed where he takes my legs and throws them over his shoulders. I stare at his gorgeous, bronze chest and take in every muscle. I’ve missed him so much. His cock presses to my entrance and I turn hooded eyes to his. He looks like an uncaged animal about to explode.

  With one swift thrust, he’s inside me. I gasp. He groans.

  Then he fucks me. He doesn’t go slow. He fucks me with a ferocity we both need. It shows me just how much he’s missed me.

  “Raf,” I moan, my fingers gripping the sheets so hard my knuckles are white.

  “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” he growls. “I missed your cunt.”

  Oh God.

  “I’m going to come,” I whimper, my head falling back, my eyes fluttering closed.

  His hand releases one of my thighs and drops between my legs, finding my clit. He rubs in soft circles as his cock continues to work my pussy. I come with an explosion, my body bucking, my sex clenching. He growls, his fingers tightening around my thighs, and then he bellows my name as he finds his release, too.

  That was incredible.

  But the second my high wears off, my heart feels a hundred times heavier.

  I’m a terrible, terrible person for what I’m about to do.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I’ll get us some wine,” I say, lifting my head from Rafael’s chest and pushing out of the bed.

  “I can get it, cara,” he says, studying me through those gorgeous, thick lashes.

  “No.” I smile. “I will. On the counter, yes?”

  He nods, his eyes dropping to my lips. I flush and turn, pulling on his shirt and nothing else. I walk out of the bedroom and the moment the door closes behind me, my heart pounds. I swallow the anxiety down and move down the hall and into the kitchen where my purse, the wine, and glasses are. I take two glasses and the wine, then I stare at my purse.

  I walk over to it and pull out the already crushed tablet in a tiny package. I close my fist around it and walk back to the counter, pouring two wines, then I empty the packet into Rafael’s glass and wait for it to dissolve. Thankfully, the wine is a dark red and once it breaks down, nothing can be seen. I turn after that and walk back down the hall with the two glasses.

  When I get back, Rafael is still in the bed but he’s got his phone in his hand. He puts it down when I enter and stares at me. His eyes are dark, mysterious, and a little guarded. Did someone just call and upset him?

  “Everything okay?” I ask, handing him his glass.

  He takes it and says, “Just business.”

  It must be hard having to deal with that constantly. I slide into the bed and he pulls me back into his arms, resting me against him. I take my wine, too, and I sip it. I can’t see if he’s sipping his by how he’s holding me, but I know he’s got it in his hand, so that’s all I need.

  My heart is still pounding, and I wonder if he can feel it.

  “How is work?” he asks, his voice strangely guarded.

  “It’s the same as it has always been.”

  “And that man, James, does he bother you still?”

  “Jacob, and no, not after you scared him off.”

  “Good.”

  I place my glass down and twist my body, looking up at him. His eyes drop to find mine. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Yes.” He nods.

  I reach up and stroke his jaw. It’s late, I know, because I made a point of coming over here after nine p.m. so it wouldn’t seem odd if I requested we sleep.

  “Do you mind if I stay?” I ask.

  “No, cara, not at all.”

  I snuggle back into him, finish my wine, and press my cheek against his chest. He’s warm; he feels so good. I’m distracted when his hand strokes down my shoulder and gently caresses it.

  We lie like this for a while, him stroking me, my eyes getting heavy. I push off him when I start fighting with sleep myself. He reaches over and switches the light off before I can see his wine glass.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he murmu
rs, dragging me against him and wrapping his big arms around me. He sounds sleepy.

  I fight against falling asleep myself, which is really hard when his warm breath tickles the back of my neck and he’s so hot and hard against me. I want to fall asleep. I actually want to be nowhere else but in his arms.

  I have no choice though.

  So I keep my eyes open.

  ~*~*~*~

  Only when his body is deep in slumber do I carefully shuffle from his embrace. I can’t see anything, the room is so dark, so I slip out of the side of the bed and wait to see if he stirs. He doesn’t. The pills seemed to have knocked him out cold.

  He doesn’t move as I find my dress and pull it over my head, then pull on my panties. Vomit rises in my throat as guilt takes over. I don’t want to do this to him. I don’t want to, but I have no choice. I have to protect my family. My son.

  With shaky legs, I move out of his bedroom. I stand outside it for a few minutes, and when he doesn’t call or come out, I move down the hall, which is still dimly lit. I go to my purse and read the instructions on how to disable the cameras. There is a panel just inside the living room that has a box that controls them. I find it easily enough, but have a mild panic attack at all the buttons.

  I take a trembling breath and read the instructions.

  I follow every step and pray with everything inside me that it works.

  Then I move down to Rafael’s office.

  It’s not locked, so I carefully push the door open and walk in. It’s neat, massive, and smells just like him. Tears burn under my eyelids, and I move to his desk. There are papers lying around, and I flick through them quickly. Nothing of interest in any of those. I sit in Rafael’s chair and fire up his laptop, using the code Riccardo gave me to unlock it.

  Nothing happens.

  I try again. It tells me there is an error. The password is wrong, which means Rafael must have recently changed it. Dammit. My heart races so fast I can hardly breathe as I try to think of what to do. I can’t call Riccardo; he won’t know the password if Rafael has changed it. I’m certainly not going to try and hack his computer because, well, I’m not great with technology on a good day.

  I stand, frustrated, and start rifling through the papers on the other side of the desk. I stumble across a few numbers and names written on Post-It notes. There’s one that says ‘Stanley Walter, Explosives’. I don’t know what that means, but considering the club got blown up, I figure it might be a good start. I lift it when a cold, hard voice travels through the room, hitting me right in my belly.

  “Don’t fucking move.”

  Rafael.

  I look up and see him standing at the door with a gun pointed on me, wearing only a pair of unbuttoned jeans.

  Everything in my world stops for a minute, and I can do nothing but stand there with a distinct ringing in my ears.

  He’s busted me.

  Everything happens slowly after that, as if the world has pressed the slow-down button on the situation.

  Rafael steps in.

  I drop the Post-It note and cry out, “It’s not what you think.”

  But it is.

  It is what he thinks. And he knows it.

  “You drugged me,” he says, his voice so icy it terrifies me. I’ve never heard it like that, not ever. “Did you really think I’m so stupid? Do you really think I would just trust you to walk around my house without checking? I saw you put that drug in my wine.”

  No.

  No.

  No.

  “Now, I’m going to ask you once—what the hell you’re doing?”

  “I was just—I was just—” I can’t even speak. I can’t lie. I’m so afraid, so incredibly terrified, that I can barely think. “I was just looking for a, ah, phone.”

  “Liar!” he roars so loudly my knees crumble, and I grab the end of the desk to stop myself falling.

  “You’re double crossing me. It’s been you the entire time.”

  What?

  No.

  “No,” I cry. “No. It was never me.”

  His eyes flash. “You know who it is.” He sounds as if I’ve ripped his heart out and shattered it with my bare hands. “And you’re working for them.”

  This is bad.

  So bad.

  I say nothing; I can’t. If I speak, my son will die. I can’t get to him. I can’t. Rafael will never let me leave now, and the second Riccardo figures out I haven’t come back, he will get there before I can. Oh God. Ajax. Tears explode and run down my cheeks.

  “Who the fuck are you working for?” he bellows, keeping that gun pointed on me.

  I don’t speak. I just stand there and cry.

  “Answer me,” he yells so loudly I flinch.

  I don’t.

  “If you will not answer me, then I have no use for you.”

  I snap my head up, and fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt crushes my chest. “You can’t kill me,” I plead. “Please, Rafael, I didn’t . . .”

  “Tell me who you’re working for, or don’t—either way, you will die. You know what I am. You chose to lie and cheat and betray me. You will suffer the same fate as all of those before you who have done the same.”

  “You can’t kill me!” I scream.

  He points the gun at me. “Answer my question.”

  “Rafael, please, if you’ll just—”

  “One,” he growls, taking a step closer.

  “Please,” I beg, my legs trembling, tears soaking my cheeks. “Please.”

  “Two.” Another step, the gun pointed right at my chest.

  “Rafael . . .”

  “Three.”

  He cocks the gun, and I scream, “I have your son.”

  I close my eyes, waiting for the bullet to hit me in the chest, waiting for it to rip through me and end my life, but it never comes.

  I open my eyes and see Rafael staring at me. “What did you say?” His voice is a low, angry whip.

  “I left you because I was pregnant. I have a son, your son.”

  His hands start shaking. His eyes flash. He looks devastated, angry, and hurt. “Where?” he orders.

  “I’m not telling you that,” I say, my tone scratchy. “I have to protect him.”

  “Where?” he yells.

  I drop my head and say nothing.

  He lowers the gun and steps forward, taking me by the arm and jerking me towards him. He pulls me out of the office and down the hall.

  “Please. He needs me. Don’t kill me and take me from him!”

  He says nothing; he just opens a door at the end of a hall. It’s a fully secured room. Heavy locks. Reinforced doors. Barred windows, protected. No.

  “Rafael, please, he’s in d—”

  “If you won’t tell me what I need to know, I’ll find him myself.” With that he slams and bolts the door, effectively locking me in.

  “Rafael!” I scream. “Please!”

  I pound my fists on that door until they bleed.

  It’s not worth it.

  He’s gone.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Get up.”

  I look up from my position on the floor. My knuckles throbs, my face is covered in dried tears, and I’m numb from head to toe. Vincent stands, staring down at me.

  “Vincent,” I whisper.

  “Get up.”

  I push to my feet and with shaky limbs, stand before him.

  “Turn around.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Now, Julietta.”

  With an ache in my heart I never could have imagined, I turn around. He steps forward, jerking my hands behind my back and slapping cuffs on them. The cold metal bites against my skin and when they’re secure, he spins me around to face him again with a harsh hand to my shoulder. “Move. If you so much as try to run, I’ll shoot you.”

  Where did fun-loving Vincent go? What happened to him?

  He practically shoves me down the hall and into the living area where Rafael and Benito stand. Rafael looks so differe
nt. Gone is any softness, any love or affection. He looks at me with pure, raw hatred.

  I want to curl up and die. He hasn’t got Ajax, which means he didn’t find him. My mom was watching him until midnight, then Celia said she’d take him home and watch him the next day.

  It must have been after midnight when he went looking. It’s the only explanation as to why he doesn’t have my son. He doesn’t know where Celia and I live.

  “Where is the child?” Rafael demands, his voice so stony cold it scares me.

  I clamp my lips together and say nothing.

  “You have two choices, Julietta,” he snarls, coming closer. “You answer me willingly or I’ll torture it out of you.”

  “Go to hell,” I hiss.

  His eyes flare and he takes a step back, his fists clenched. “Have it your way. How shall I torture you first? I think your mother is a good place to start.”

  “No,” I cry before I can stop it.

  His eyes find mine, cold, empty, broken. “Then you will tell me where the child is.”

  “Please,” I whisper. “He’s my son; he’s just a tiny baby. Don’t hurt him.”

  “I’m not a fucking monster,” he roars. “I’m not you. I won’t hurt the child.”

  Not me.

  No. He’s not me.

  I’m a monster.

  “No,” I say, my voice low. “But, you’ll hurt me?”

  “We’re not discussing you. I will find a way to get that child here, Julietta, with or without your help.”

  A tear runs down my cheek.

  “Your tears mean nothing to me,” he says in an angry hiss.

  I have no choice. My son is safer here than he is with Celia. The second Riccardo gets wind that I’ve been caught, he’ll go after anything he can to make sure I don’t talk, Ajax being the first. My mom would never talk. Her guilt over the situation is stifling. She wouldn’t do anything to make it worse, but I have to protect my son.

  “He’s with Celia,” I whisper, then I give the address.

  Rafael turns and strides out of the room, barking, “Find out who she’s working with, and do whatever it takes to get it out of her.”

  Then he’s gone.