Chapter twenty seven
Rafaello’s POV
The air in the room was suffocating. The silence between us crackled like static and definitely impossible to escape.
Alora stood by the door, hands wrapped around herself. I looked into her eyes and I could see how much she hated my presence in front of her.
"Are you going to keep mute and ignore me the whole night?" I asked, standing right next to her but keeping some distance.
She just glared at me, clenching her hands furiously.
Damn it, this woman was just too hard to read when she was this upset. So we just stood there, staring at each other with intensity.
Just then, she rushed toward me, which caught me by surprise.
"You're bleeding," she said, her voice filled with worry.
Then I looked down to the right side of my lower tummy , the place that had been shot , and there was blood. I hadn’t even noticed. Pain had become so ordinary lately, I only felt it when she pointed it out.
Her reaction hit me harder than the pain itself , panic flashing in her eyes, her voice trembling as she moved closer. No hesitation and disgust, just raw worry. For someone who claimed to hate me, she sure looked terrified at the thought of losing me.
She pulled my hand gently, making me sit on the bed. Something about the way she fussed over me stripped away the walls I’d built brick by brick.
Seems luck had been on my side, even if it felt like a sick, twisted joke.
"Shit! I haven’t given you your medication," she exclaimed, rushing to the side of the bed with sticky notes. I just watched, amused at how she'd been looking angry a minute ago and now she was all worked up and worried about me. Damn, I was a lucky bastard.
Then she walked up, handing me a piece of cloth.
"Hold this there," she instructed.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear her, just stared at her face.
"Rafe, I’m talking to you , hold this," she repeated.
Then I went ahead and did as she said.
She seemed somewhat lost, speaking to herself as she looked at the medication tray in her hand.
There was nothing I hated like medicine. My mother had her fair share of forcing me to take it.
"Here, take these," she said, handing me the pills. I could already feel how bad they smelled.
"Seriously, I can’t , that’s too much. I’ll probably be fine without them," I said dismissively.
She cleared her throat, and for a minute I thought I’d annoyed her even more.
"You have to. I didn’t know someone like you feared taking medicine," she taunted.
It sounded like an insult when she rubbed it in my face like that, so I just swallowed my pride, took all of them from her, and shoved them all in my mouth , definitely reckless.
"Water," I said amid the bitter taste.
She gave me a glass of water, which I drank in one gulp.
I returned the glass to her only to see a twinkle in her eyes as she burst out laughing and she was trying to control so hard.
"You should’ve seen your face. You looked like a kid running from an injection," she teased, laughing more.
I just observed her, feeling lost in her happiness. I wanted her this carefree , laughing, with no worries, like there was no tomorrow. I wanted to laugh too, but part of me didn’t know how anymore.
"Do you think this is funny?" I hissed, pretending to be furious.
Then I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me, which made her land on my chest.
I tried to hold both her hands together, but she kept laughing hard and wiggling them out. Her laughter echoing through me, shaking something loose I didn’t know was trapped. It wasn’t just the sound , it was how alive she looked, how real. For a second, I forgot every reason I was supposed to keep my distance.
Until her laughter died and she was on top, straddling me. She looked at me feeling a bit awkward, then got down, her cheeks burning. The air thickened. Every breath she took felt like a dare I was seconds from taking.
"I’ll change your bandage," she said, getting the kit.
I sat upright and watched her remove the one that was now blood-soaked.
She was so focused on changing it as she avoided my gaze. I could see her hands tremble slightly , not from fear, but from everything she wasn’t saying. Each brush of her fingers left a trail of warmth, even when she wasn’t touching me. She treated the wound like it was something sacred, like I was something worth saving , and hell, that scared me more than the pain.
"You shouldn’t be moving around much," she instructed.
Damn, I loved her being bossy.
I had started noticing the little things that made her unique , how she cared, was easily frustrated, and how careful she was when doing things.
"Ouch," I whimpered as the pain kicked in.
"Sorry, I’ll be gentle," she whispered, then proceeded to blow on the wound as if to make me feel better.
All the desires this woman stirred in me , if she only knew.
She was finally done, and she was really good at it.
"You should get some rest," she said.
"I need to shower first," I said, getting up.
I stood up, heading to the bathroom when her voice stopped me.
"Um, Rafe... will you manage?" she asked, concerned.
"I think I’ll be just fine, wife , unless you want to join me," I teased, shutting the door behind me. She had no idea how much that one joke cost me to say with a straight face. I wasn’t used to anyone worrying if I made it through the night. Her concern got under my skin, digging into the cracks I’d kept sealed for years.
I’d had my fair share of injuries and being shot, of course, and throughout everything I’d learned to survive the pain just fine , until her.
She made me feel like a vulnerable person who needed care, love, and attention , things I didn’t think I wanted until now.
With her, everything was so damn confusing.
I struggled through the shower and finally finished. I reached for my bathrobe on the hanger, but it wasn’t there. Where could she have placed it?
"Alora," I called, stepping toward the door. After a few minutes, I heard her footsteps approach, so I clicked the door open.
"Do you need any help?" she asked, her voice tight, like this was something she was avoiding.
"Get me a bathrobe and my pajamas from the closet," I said.
She walked off, then came back with them. I slightly opened the door, and I could feel her gaze on me, the way her breath hitched. Neither of us missed it.
She handed the clothes and rushed away swiftly.
I was finally done and stepped back into the bedroom, where Alora seemed to have covered herself head to toe, obviously pretending to be asleep.
She didn’t look comfortable to me in her jeans and tank top, which seemed to be her everyday style. But my mind drifted to the day I had seen her in that black strapless dress showing off her cleavage and her figure. I had ordered her to change, and I was sure it annoyed her so much , but I couldn’t let other men prey on her.But the truth was uglier , I didn’t want anyone else seeing her the way I did. That dress had undone me in ways I couldn't explain.
She was just a thorny rose yet to be tamed as desired.
I walked to the closet and took out my shirt , it would be baggy on her, but at least she’d sleep comfortably.
"Alora, go change into this," I said, nudging her gently to get up.
She didn’t say anything, just took it and left.
After two minutes, she was back in my shirt. Damn, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
It reached mid-thigh, and her nipples were very much visible. And just like that, every ounce of self-control I’d built around her crumbled. I shifted my guess uncomfortably and cleared my throat softly.
She came back and got into bed, sitting right next to me.
"Thank you for taking care of me," I whispered softly in her ear.
"No need. I was just being grateful for your help. You’re going to terminate the marriage agreement anyway," she answered dismissively.
I turned to face her. Of course, I knew she was talking about my grandfather’s orders for me to take Tanya as my wife.
"That’s not gonna happen anytime soon. So if you want to run away from me that much, you might as well forget it," I said firmly. I had started liking this marriage thing even though it began as a forced start , and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting her walk away just like that.
"But... your girlfriend and—"
"You need to know to trust your husband, gattina. Tanya will never take your place , unless you want her to," I said, but she only bit her lower lip, clearly frustrated.
"Can I ask you something?" she whispered, looking into my eyes. I nodded gently nudging her to go ahead yet still hopping that this wasn't about Tanya.
"What happened to you? How did you get shot?" she asked softly, her eyes searching mine.
For a second, my mouth went dry as I contemplated how I was going to answer her. She didn’t need to know it all, though.
"We ambushed one of my enemies’ bases, and things got out of hand. I tried saving my men, and this happened," I said casually.
She just looked at me, pity in her eyes , something I didn’t like. Her tears threatened to fall, and she quickly dabbed them away.
"Are you worried about me, Lora?" I asked, scooting closer.
"No," she denied, looking down at her hands.
"Then why are you crying, gattina?" I asked, lifting her chin. She seemed to be thinking deeply.
"It’s just that I know you’re such a jerk , an annoying one at that , but I also know how it feels to be alone, with no one to care or tend to you at your lowest," she confessed. Then she couldn’t hold her tears anymore. Her words hit deeper than any bullet ever could. I saw the woman beneath the fire , fragile, brave, breaking all at once. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to be the one to keep her from falling apart.
What was she hiding beneath that fiery personality?
I brushed off her tears with my thumb.
"Move closer," I instructed, yet she just sat at the same spot.
"Don’t let me make you, wife," I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire. My pulse was a live wire, burning through restraint. She had no clue how close she was to setting me off.
She didn’t move , just stared at me, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. That was all it took. My patience snapped like a gunshot in the dark.
Before I could think twice, I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her , hard at first, desperate, like I’d been starving for her and didn’t know it until now. Then slower, deeper... like I was trying to make her understand everything I couldn’t say out loud.
Her hands gripped my shirt, hesitant at first, then clinging tighter as she melted into me. For someone I swore I couldn’t stand, she fit against me like she’d always belonged there.
The world narrowed to the sound of our uneven breaths and the wild thud of my heart against hers.
For a moment, nothing else existed , not the blood, not the pain, not the mess between us , just her, soft and warm and so damn close I thought I’d lose my mind.
I finally forced myself to p
ull back, resting my forehead against hers, both of us catching our breath.
"If I kiss you one more time," I whispered roughly, "I won’t be able to hold back."