Page 12 of Dangerous Deception

Raffaele’s hand clasps at my elbow, and the touch is scalding, like I’ve just dunked my elbow into boiling water. Jerking away from the touch, I use the back of my chair for balance and step out from the table, and his hand lingers in the air for a moment, then returns to his side.

“Adelina—”

“Leave me alone,” I hiss through gritted teeth while keeping a perfect smile on my face, “or you’ll hear a truth or two you aren’t ready for.” Proud of my veiled threat, I turn and stride away as strongly as I can on kitten heels with four glasses of wine fuzzing the world around me.

Maybe I should get something to eat. Does Uber deliver to a place like this?

Worth a try.

I stride through one of the doors at the end of the room, and the change in the air hits like a slap in the face. The hallway is much cooler than the banquet hall, and breathing in is like the first crisp breath on a fresh winter’s morning. In fact, it feels like the first breath I’ve taken all day. Stumbling down the hallway, I head for the farthest door in the corridor. Pushing it open takes some effort, and I stumble inside. It’s a lounge room with a bar at one end and several chairs scattered between me and large windows that open out onto a vast patio. Flames burn outside in a fire pit, sending streaks of orange and yellow across the floor.

A quick scan of the room tells me there isn’t any phone in here, so the bar will have to do. I make it three steps when I hear that irritatingly fake, silky smooth voice once again.

“When the vows said we would share everything, this isn’t exactly what I envisioned.”

“Why are you following me?” I snap, not even bothering to look at him while I walk toward the bar.

“You’re wandering around my home,” Raffaele replies. “It wouldn’t be polite to let you do that before the tour.”

“Why, got something to hide?”

“What’s mine is yours,” he says, his voice distant as if he’s still at the door. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to see it all immediately.”

“Spoken like someone who has something to hide,” I mutter. “You got what you want, so how about you leave me alone, huh?”Reaching the bar, I try to grab one of the bottles from the shelf only to find that the bottle is rooted to the spot. I wrap both hands around the bottle and pull, but the glass remains steadfast to the wood. “What…?”

“Like I said.” Raffaele seemingly spawns next to me, and I jump in fright at his sudden heated presence. “You shouldn’t be doing this until after the tour.”

“What is this?” I mutter. “You lock down your booze?”

“No,” Raffaele replies. Suddenly, his warm hand slides over the back of one of mine. Rough calluses graze the back of my knuckles, and his touch burns like he’s running at a hundred degrees or more.

My arm tenses, and the urge to pull away rises like the lash of a whip, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as he uses his other hand to press a button underneath the shelf and the bottle suddenly lifts away in my grasp. Before I can secure it, however, he takes the bottle from me.

“Hey!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says. “And I’m the one who managed to pick it up.”

“By using some kind of trick,” I mutter, stomping one foot as Raffaele moves to the bar and sets the bottle down.

“Not a trick.” Before the bottle settles on the bar, he tilts it and gives me a glance at the bottom. “Magnets.”

“Why the heck do you have magnets on the bottom of your bottles?”

“Why not?” He lifts one brow as he watches me. “Do you have any idea how rowdy it can get in a place like this? Having something like this prevents all my expensive liquor from toppling to the floor each time someone bumps into these shelves.”

I snort sharply. “Not surprised you have fighting in here,” I mutter. “Though it’s good to know your own men can’t stand you.”

“That’s your takeaway from that?” Raffaele seems unfazed by my comment. “Rowdiness doesn’t always mean fighting. Sometimes, things just get a little… excitable.”

“Whatever.” I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to know anything about him. I’ve already spent too long in his presence and an uncomfortable itch crawls over my skin. “Just give me the bottle.”

I lunge for it, and Raffaele swiftly slides it out of reach so that I stumble into him. He stands firmly like a board and doesn’t even flinch when I collide with him. My entire body flushes hot at the contact as rage churns in my gut and rises into my chest like smoke.

“Give!”

“No. You’ve had enough.”

“Who are you to tell me that? You’ve been drinking just as much as me.”

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