Page 25 of Their Princess

“They aren’t as dead as you think, Addie.”

“Don’t, Rafe!”

My uncle furrowed his brows at me as though confused.

“Don’t call me Addie. That name belongs to the innocent little girl you knew before leaving for the military. I am no longer that girl.”

“You aren’t,” he stated—not a question, but an agreement. Rafe spread his feet shoulder distance, clasping his hands behind his back.

How very military of him.

But the stance showed off his form, broad shoulders with defined shoulders and biceps that strained against the T-shirt. His torso tapered to a narrow waist and his muscular denim-clad legs stood at the ready. I looked down, noticing he still wore combat boots. The other MC members out there sported boots, but most had Indian or Harley logos or were straight-up cowboy boots. Rafe’s were military grade, through and through.

I needed to refocus. “How does anyone live in a warehouse?” I asked my uncle, not really expecting an answer.

He kept silent, the pulse in his neck fluttering under his tense jaw.

“Seriously, zio. Do they keep women in all these rooms? I thought someone said they busted the Gambinos’ skin trade.”

“They did. Sas killed the woman who ran it all,” said Rafe, not answering the first question.

“Then why the fuck do they think this is okay?” I paced again.

A muscle in Rafe’s jawline jumped before he said, “I don’t think they lock up women normally.”

“What a load of shit?!”

They should be treating their women like queens.

I scrunched my nose as I ran a hand over the scratchy bedspread. “I sure as hell hope they don’t expect me to sleep on this.”

“It’s better than the floor,” said Rafe, not lifting his gaze from the concrete below his feet.

I marched over and stood in front of him, pointing my nose up into his face. “Are you going to make me stay in this cage too?”

“Adelina.” Rafe touched my chin and then dropped his hand. Worry lined his eyes as he shook his head. “What do you know, tesoro?”

“I heardthe cartel...” I blinked, and when I processed what he said again—what he called me, I shook my head. “W-wait... wh-what?” Maybe Ihadheard him right on the back of that bike.

“What did you hear the Rojas brothers saying, Adelina?” he repeated. Sort of. More like he pressed the words through his teeth as though I was being daft.

“Not that!” I waved my hand dismissively between us. “You called me tesoro. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes. I do, but right now, I want to know what you fucking overheard them talking about in Spanish.”

“Fine,” I snapped, ignoring how my skin buzzed from where he had touched me and how my heart skipped at the pet name. “They were calling Sas a target. A loose cannon. And I agree that he’s incompetent if he lets shit like this happen and then offers the collector double. It’s bad business.” And the fact that he didn’t listen to me when I tried to help just pissed me right the fuck off.

Rafe nodded. “I thought that might be the case. My Italian sucks, but my Spanish is worse.” He took a step backward, and I stepped forward, refusing to leave his space.

“You’ll have to thank high school for that. And the American culture. Everyone should be speaking more than one language from birth.”

My nonna had only spoken Italian, so I grew up around both Italian and English. She lived in Papà’s building on a lower floor, and I spent a lot of time down there. But since she never liked Rafe or his mother, they never talked.

My uncle took a step backward, toward the wall.

I followed, taking two steps to Rafe’s one, until my chest brushed against him. “The rhythm and the words are similar, if you listen.”

I had backed him against the wall and bed, cornering him. He twitched, his eyes searching the room for an escape, but I wasn’t letting that happen.

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