I reel back on my heels, my blood boils, and the sound of my heart beating creates a whooshing in my ears. Anger like never before overcomes me as I glare at the man.
Oliver’s small fingers stroke through my hair, reminding me he’s in my arms, and thankfully, grounding me enough not to rip the man’s eyeballs from their sockets and stamp on the beady offenders. Instead, I head toward the door, ignoring his grumbles along the way. I march through the kitchen and head straight toward Rafael’s office.
As I approach, I hear hushed voices and see a guard standing beside the door. He moves toward me but backs off after I glare at him and glance at Oliver.
Swinging open the office door, I ignore the men seated opposite Rafael, too angry to care. His darkened gaze meets mine and his shoulders relax until he sees Oliver in my arms. He’s out of his chair and standing in front of me in the blink of an eye.
“Leave,” he barks in the men’s direction as his eyes scan over Oliver. “What happened?”
The door shuts behind the men.
“That man you have teaching him is awful.”
Rafael’s hand strokes over Oliver’s hair, but stops when I continue my tirade. “I don’t want him anywhere near him, Rafael.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes narrow, but I refuse to back down. Oliver deserves better than having someone treat him this way.
“You don’t want him anywhere near him?” His words come out slow, with an almost deadly threat laced among them.
I let Oliver slide down my arms and onto the floor, where he moves to stand behind me, his small hand holding on to my shirt. That move alone anchors me to the spot, giving me the strength I need to stand up for him.
My eyes burn with fire, annoyed that Rafael allows this to happen but knowing he was probably raised the same way, worse even. The thought has sympathy trickling in and taking over the anger, allowing me to think clearly before I speak.
“That man is causing your son to cry, Rafael. Whatever historic educational system he has in place is nothing short of barbaric, and I refuse to let Oliver be a victim.” My voice rises with emotion as I explain my point. “He needs love and nurturing, not whatever rubbish that old goat is spieling to him.” Rafael’s lip twitches, and the move only angers me further.
“I’m telling you”—I point toward Rafael—“I don’t want him anywhere near him. In fact, I want a list of everyone that works with Oliver, and I want to meet them personally before I decide if they’re worthy.”
“Worthy?” Rafael rears back.
“Yes, worthy. He deserves the best, and that’s what he’s going to get. I refuse for him to have subpar or outdated so-called professionals; he deserves the best.” I stamp my foot, then wince at how demanding and petulant I’m acting.
He strokes his hand over his jaw as he watches me. “That old goat Doctor Philips is one of the best.”
A shocked noise lodges in my throat. “In what era? The man is a dinosaur. He’s so outdated he should be extinct.”
Humor spreads over Rafael’s face. “Are you suggesting I kill him?”
My heart skips a beat at his insinuation. Holy shit. I stare back at him, unblinking, searching for all seriousness. Then, like a tsunami, panic floods me, and I realize I may have gone too far. Rafael is, after all, the Mafia. What the hell have I done?
“Nnnn-no.” I drag a hand through my hair. “No, please don’t do that. I just don’t want him working with Oliver again.” My throat becomes dry, like sand, but I will myself to speak. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
He drags a finger over his lip, his gaze darting from mine to Oliver’s before his features soften, then he turns toward his desk and presses his phone.
“Kai. I want all staff associated with Oliver escorted off the estate and new applicants on my desk no later than Wednesday.” His eyes dart to mine, as if seeking for approval, and I bite into my lip, giving him a nod. A sense of accomplishment ripples through my body, and I find it difficult not to pump my fist in the air like a child winning an important game. All because Rafael has considered my suggestions, and better yet, acted on them.
Rafael looks down toward Oliver. “And tell Rosalita to collect Oliver from my office once she’s made him an ice cream sundae.” He winks in Oliver’s direction, and my heart soars. Ending the call, he turns his attention back to me. His face becomes stoic as he stares through me while I struggle to swallow at the intensity behind his eyes. “Now, what am I going to do with you?” His dark voice delivers a warning, one that has me taking a step back from him, knowing how volatile he can be.
Chapter Sixteen
Rafael
Fury flooded my veins at being interrupted without so much as a knock on the door, and when I delivered my deadly glare toward the perpetrator, my anger dissipated within a matter of seconds. Seeing Ellie standing before me, cradling my son in her arms, had me rushing to her side. My first thought was Oliver was sick. Never in a million years did I expect the issue to be regarding his home-schooling system.
Her simmering with anger at how Oliver is schooled only intensified my already ravenous, uncontrollable feelings toward her. She is not only beautiful, and completely innocent, but she is also strong and unperturbed about danger. Something I will need to address at a later date, but seeing her stand up for my son leaves me with no doubt she will be the perfect mother.
Rosalita clicks the door shut, taking Oliver with her, and Ellie’s cheeks pinken under my dark scrutiny. She fidgets on her feet and tugs on my shirt. My chest fills with pride at her wearing it.
“Are you wearing shorts beneath my shirt?” I raise an eyebrow.