Page 70 of Mafia Wedding

Who says he has to know the real me, right?

Honesty is for suckers, and if I don't want Rake to see the real me, then he won't. I'll simply hide it from him forever, and now that particular problem is solved—-

No more distractions while on the job!

The door to Room 418 is locked, so of course I kick it open, and instinct takes over after that. I'm already in the zone as soon as the first man tries (and fails) to knock my teeth off with his fist.

I'm not sure how much time passes after that.

Or how much blood has been shed.

It's only when everyone's all beaten up and unconscious on the ground, and adrenaline gradually stops pumping through my veins that I remember—-

Shit.

I've forgotten all about Rake, and rather than hiding myself like planned, the real me ended up putting quite a show.

Nice, Kayra. Real nice...you idiot.

If he's gone, he's gone, and I will not let myself go crazy—-oh.

Rake suddenly appears by the doorway of a bedroom, still looking gorgeous and immaculate except for noticeably bruised fists. "Hello again."

"Uh...hi?"

He closes the distance between us, and his gaze turns brooding as he comes to a stop before me. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

I look at him warily. Is he talking about how my pulse tends to race at the slightest hint of violence? Or is he talking about how I didn't hold back at all even when I was beating up another woman? Or maybe he caught me almost smiling—-

Stop assuming things, Kayra!

I lift my chin and pretend I'm Bailey when she's trying to play it cool with her husband for whatever reason. "I'm not sure I'm getting you."

"There's no need to play coy."

Huh?

"I'm not playing—-stop that!"

Rake ignores my slapping hands as he pinches my cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me my future wife is such a badass?"

No, no, no!

I am not going to make him cockier by letting myself smile—-wait.

Does this mean he doesn't care about seeing the real me?

And why is he still pinching my cheeks, darn it?

"Stop that."

I shove him away as I finally remember what I've come here for, and I'm aware of Rake following behind me to watch my six as I start searching through the apartment. Sweet and misguided of him, as always.

"What are we looking for?" Rake asks.

We get to the master's bedroom, and my steps come into an abrupt halt when I see the most awful painting hanging over the headboard.

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