Chapter 25: TWENTY FIVE

CELESTIA

I could feel the warmth of the morning as the bright sun forced its way into the room, but I was too knackered to even lift my eyelids. The throaty groan croaked out as I squirmed from side to side to avoid any kind of light.

The soft murmur of a manly voice hushed down, and even before I opened my eyes, I knew that it was Raffaele’s. Surprisingly, I have woken up too many times in his bedroom than the other one that I was used to earthy musk of his room freshener. And the spicy-apple flavored cologne he wore all the time, coupled with his minty breath.

My eyes flashed wide open the moment I gathered my thoughts, and my hand flew to my mouth.

What happened to me? How could I dote over the timbre of his voice, reel over the scent of him, and moan into the warmth and softness of his bed? This was all wrong. At every level perceived, it was flawed.

But when the horrors of last evening returned, the darkness, and the screams and near-hell experience sent a shiver down my spine. The unspoken underlying truth was that he saved me.

Sighing, I sat up on the bed and balanced my elbows over my knees as my fingers ran through my hair. The long tresses smelt different—smelled of his shampoo mainly—as I recalled how Raffaele washed my hair last night. The kind of care and benevolence he bestowed, I was dazed by it.

How a man capable of such violence was able to provide me with a wealth of comfort and solace when I was shaken to the marrow of my bones?

When I craned up my head, Raffaele had already left the room. But he must have been in a hurry because the door was left ajar and the wall safe wide open. Out of natural curiosity, I pushed off my bed and padded towards it to have a sneak.

Apart from a few stack of papers, there was nothing. But when I actually thrust my hand inside, I found something I never thought in a million years. It was the camera. He used the same one to record that day, the day he made me strip in this bedroom.

Nervously glancing between the door and the safe, I grabbed the device and stormed into his closet to find out whether the recording was still there. If so, then I could delete it and be done with it forever.

I turned the device on, and to my sheer luck, the same memory card was lodged in there. The video started from the time Raffaele and I were having the conversation, still fully clothed as my expressions swung between angry and shocked. It went on and on and then abruptly stopped when I was about to take the clothes off.

What the hell?

I checked the memory card, which had enough space to record for hours, restarted the camera and replayed, but every time it stopped in the exact frame.

It was then I slowly recollected the incidents of that day when he pressed on some button right before I was about to strip.

Oh, my God. Raffaele never recorded it in the first place. All he did was put up a show to threaten the crap out of me.

“Looking for something?” I heard the deep, gravelly voice behind me and froze on the spot.

While I was swimming with all these newfound information in my sluggish head, processing one shocking fact after another, I didn’t hear when he entered the room or zoomed into the closet.

But there was no point hiding now.

So I sighed and slowly whirled around and saw he was casually leaning against the doorframe, with one leg crossed before the other and the arms across his broad chest. His dark hair was mussed from sleep with a few messy strands across the forehead. Everything about him was a little wayward, except for those eyes.

Those purposeful brown eyes slowly raked over my face, slithered down to my hand, and crawled back up again.

I quickly schooled my features to feign annoyance and surprise, huffing and rolling my eyes. “You know, you scared me!”

Raffaele merely lifted a brow. “Did I?”

“Yes, you. Who else is here?” I snorted. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

His lips lifted to a smirk as he pushed himself off the doorframe and stalked towards me. The long, purposeful gait resembled that of a lion, teasing and taunting his prey right before it pounces upon it. And right now, I truly felt like a cornered prey for a lion.

My feet felt cemented to the floor of the closet as I could only gasp and beg with my eyes. Raffaele stopped inches from my face, looming over me as I closed my eyes and breathed a lungful of his scent again – apple and spice. Yum.

It’s just an expensive cologne, you stupid brain – I scolded myself and refocused on his face.

My heart was racing ten times faster now, pumping so much blood that I almost felt dizzy in his presence. It was just like all the other times he had unnerved me before except for a small change – I was no longer scared.

Angst and nerves still riddled, but I was no longer terrified of Raffaele. I didn’t how it materialized, but a halo of comfort developed around him after last night.

“Bambi, are you really going to stare at me with those big brown eyes?” He chuckled, snapping me out of my silly daydream.

“I don’t have much choice but to look at you when you are practically blocking my path, now do I? Please, move. I got to…”

I lost the train of thought when he traced a finger down the side of my face, following the slope of my jaw and hooked under my chin. From there, his thumb picked up, caressing the lower lip ever so slowly.

“Soft,” I heard him murmur. “Like expensive silk.”

Please, don’t – my mind screamed. I was already feeling too much and too fast.

I quickly jerked my face away, hardening my features. “I have to go to and change. It is morning now,” I blurted mindlessly.

“Why? You look good in my shirt.”

I couldn’t disagree with that. It was like a mini shirt-dress GQ model would wear with slick hair, illuminated skin, and six-inch heels. Except, I was wearing it with unruly hair, bruised face, and bare feet.

“I…I need to get my clothes from the other room,” I stuttered.

“Okay.” He shrugged and paved the way. “Be my guest.”

I couldn’t believe how easily he gave up and practically trotted towards the door but stopped at his voice.

“Good luck explaining the servants and staff as to why you are wearing my shirt and nothing else.”

Oh, shit.

I turned around, hissing at him, “You are impossible!”

“Hmm. And you are sneaky,” he returned. There was a smug triumphant smile sitting on his lips.

Raffaele crossed the distance in three strides, plucked the camera from my hands, and walked back to the bedroom. I followed on his heels and watched as he stored it back into the safe and lock it.

I knew I was treading on dangerous waters, but I didn’t care anymore. “You didn’t record anything that day,” I pointed out.

“I transferred the footage somewhere else.” He shrugged a powerful shoulder but slowly faced me. “Obviously, I wouldn’t keep it in the same room where I have kept you.”

“You are lying,” I braved. I didn’t know where the boldness came from, but I was high on it. “You never filmed it in the first place.”

“What makes you so sure?” he challenged. “Simply because you saw the camera? You are a gullible little girl, Celestia. Let’s not get overthe top of your head.”

There was something about that patronizing tone that absolutely cracked my temper. I stormed over to him, backing him against the safe and jabbed a thin finger into his muscled-chest. “Don’t you dare call me a gullible little girl while you are just a grownup man who doesn’t know how to bluff!”

He calmly glanced at the pointed finger and then at my face, and in a flash, our positions were reversed. Before I could even manage a squeak, he grabbed my shoulders and held me against the wall safe – firmly but not roughly.

“You know why you are a gullible little girl, Celestia?” he asked, crowding my space with his face inches from me.

I only shook my head, dumbfounded.

“Because you invite trouble, like the little red riding hood.” The minty breath fanned the seam of my ear when he brought his lips closer and recited the lines. “Never trust a stranger friend, no-one knows how it will end, as you’re pretty, so be wise, wolves may lurk in every guise.”

One of his hands glided down the side of my breast and gasped the hips. I was beyond enraptured by the feel of hand and the rising throb between my legs.

“Well…umm…I am not afraid of the wolf,” I whispered in a breathy voice.

He gave out a small husky laugh and, without a preamble, crashed his lips on mine. It took a moment to grasp the shock of it, but Raffaele Roselli doesn’t do anything clumsily.

The kiss was every bit deep, sensual, and hard as both his hands crossed over my back and pulled me towards him. His tongue took possession of my mouth, coaxing its way in until he left an imprint of him on my lips.

By the time he retreated, I was laboring for breath.

Raffaele took me the same way the wolf would have taken the little red riding hood, except I was aware of the wild and let it devour me as a whole.