Page 115 of Their Princess

“Then what are they celebrating?”

He locked his jaw, not telling me those details. Fuck, how was I going to give my father any intel?

The sound of the shower was the only noise for a moment, both of us breathing hard as we stared each other down.

Did he believe I needed to be kept out of the MC business like they tried to keep me out of the Mafia? What they didn’t know was how many times I’d gone through Papà’s desk. Or all the times I’d listened in on his phone calls. Papà’s stupid ego thought landlines were less likely to be overheard. But he hadn’t accounted for his oldest daughter.

“Really, Rafe?” I softened my voice, coating it with sugar. “You won’t tell me anything?” This was probably his protective instincts taking over. I’d been thankful for them at clubs, but not this time. “I’m not a kid. And Papà threw me to the MC like roadkill to coyotes. You too. So we’re in this together, Rafe.”

“Tesoro, plea?—”

“Don’t fucking call me that if you’re going to play their goddamn games and keep me in the dark.” I took a deep breath. My intent wasn’t to yell at him, but I couldn’t seem to help it, not when I could sense him trying to diffuse the situation.

“I’m not?—”

“Bullshit, Rafe!”

Nothing. He went still. Not the blink of an eye or the twitch of a muscle.

“Fine.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I’ll shower and change, and we’ll do to the bonfire.”

Rafe winced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea with us going to Vegas tomorrow to prepare for”—he swallowed hard—“your wedding.”

“I don’t care.” I yanked my crop top over my head and looked at Rafe again just in time to see his eyes go round.

He threw a hand between me and his eyes. “I’ll wait out here.” He reached for the doorknob.

“No.” I stopped him. “Look at me.”

I waited.

Kissing was okay, but looking at me in my bra?

“Look at me, Rafe,” I said again.

His dark eyes flashed up and locked with mine, and a jolt blasted through me with the dark desire I saw written in them. I tried to ignore it, but my arms drifted up to fold over my chest.

Shit.

I hated the embarrassment that small gesture showed, so I lifted my chin another inch. “I’ll let Papà know about the jewels when we get there tomorrow. He should be able to help with plans.”

“Adelina, you shouldn’t . . . ah . . .”

I dropped my shorts and turned my back on Rafe.

“Ah . . .,” he stammered again.

I smirked and walked around the shower wall before shedding my bra and matching lace panties.

“I’ll, um, be out here,” said Rafe, his voice fading with the distance and the roar of the water.

As the warm water pelted my shoulders and ran down my body, I tried desperately to figure out how I had landed in this mess.

Or howwe—Rafe and I—ended up here. All so Papà had better access to the Mexican cartels. But now we were dealing with the Colombian ones on a different front. And more hairbrained schemes.

Perhaps it had been a good idea to teach me to shoot. I curled my hand into the position of holding a gun, my finger brushing the imaginary trigger. Aiming at a droplet on the tile, I squeezed like Rafe had taught me. Everything had been good when we were shooting, but Rafe had to go and ruin it by...

I shook my head.

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