Page 58 of Possession

Rafael’s lip curls as he smiles into the phone while scanning me. His pupils dilate as he latches on to one of his handiworks on my neck. “I’ll call you back.” He ends the call and places his phone on his desk.

“You’re mine,” he responds, angering me further.

“I’m not yours, and you sure as hell aren’t mine!” I scream back at him. “You have a wife, Rafael!”

All amusement falls from his face, and his jaw sharpens on the word wife.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” He emphasizes each word slowly, but I shake my head.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s whore, Rafael. I won’t be your mistress. If I knew you were married...” My words hang in the air as the veins on his temple pulsate.

“If you knew, you wouldn’t have had a relationship with me.” He confirms what I was about to say.

“You knew how I felt, how much my father hurt us, hurt me, and yet you did it anyway!” I stab a finger in his direction. “And this is not a relationship. We can’t have a relationship.” My voice gets louder, then my finger trembles. “You’re married.”

He waves his hand. “She doesn’t mean shit.”

My mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, what?” I rear back, stunned by his words. “She’s Oliver’s mother.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re his mother. You’re the one who cares for him, loves him. You’re his fucking mother. Nobody could ever compare to you.” My heart races faster, and a surge of love swells inside me as he continues. He grits his words out with certainty. “She just fucking birthed him.” His head falls forward and his chest rises, then he tilts his head to face me. “You’re his mother,” he repeats, lower this time.

His words shock me to my core. I’m his mother. Is that really how he sees me? The tension and anger in my body dissipate. The truth in his eyes drills into me, imploring me to agree.

I swallow thickly as the room around me feels like it’s closing in. No matter how much I want that, crave that, he’s married, and while he’s married, that’s something I can never have.

I can never have them.

He shakes his head and drops it forward. “Don’t you see, Ellie. Nobody could ever compare to you.” Then he lifts his eyes to meet mine, and they glimmer with a hint of helplessness. “Nobody.”

Straightening my shoulders again, I stand taller, determined to remain strong. There’s only one other option for us to continue. “You need to divorce her. I won’t be the other woman.” My words come out with confidence, determination in each and every one of them.

His head falls back against his chair as he laughs before rolling his head toward me. He bites into his lip with a look of pure defeat combined with despair flittering over his face, and the action causes pity to rush through me at the vulnerability flashing through him. So unlike the Mafia man he portrays, it makes me want to comfort him like he comforts me.

This beautiful, strong, deadly man is hurting, and I hate it.

With a trembly hand, he strokes over his hair. “There’s no divorce in the Mafia, Ellie. None. The only way out is death.”

He chokes on a sardonic laugh, and his eyes flash with sorrow. “I can’t kill her. I can’t do that to Oliver.” His Adam’s apple slides slowly down his throat while he stares back at me as if waiting for me to tell him everything will be okay.

Then he leans forward, tugging on the edge of my T-shirt. “I need you, Little Doll. Tell me you understand that. Tell me I’m not going to lose you.” I allow him to pull me to his lap, and give him the comfort I know he needs, and he strokes my hair. “I don’t want to break you where I can’t fix you, Little Doll,” he whispers, and I know he’s talking about our relationship, about us.

A knowing feeling itches at my skin as I let the man I’ve fallen in love with find solace in my touch.

Will he love me back? Will I always be the other woman when I desperately want so much more?

Can my heart handle the fact that I may always simply be his possession?

Chapter Thirty-Three

Rafael

My entire body is on a knife’s edge as she rushes around her room like a woman possessed gathering her belongings. “I’m done!” she announces, causing panic and anger to claw at my chest. The thought of losing her has me using the wall for support. My reaction is simply unheard of as my heart hammers irrationally at her leaving us.

Just when the hell did I become so dependent on her?

“You’re not leaving.” I shake my head. No way in hell is she leaving me.

“Watch me! I refuse to be your whore.” She stamps her foot as she glares back at me and crosses her arms over her chest. The action would look adorable if she wasn’t threatening to not just break my heart but Oliver’s too.

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