Page 103 of Raphael (Belles & Mobsters 5)

Ugh, priorities!

ChapterForty-Two

SAILOR

Islept in my old room. My feeble attempt at protest.

And husband avoidance.

In just a few days, I got used to sleeping with Raphael’s body next to me. The nightlight was on. It wasn’t until I was back to sleeping alone that I realized I slept in the dark with Raphael. The nightlight never even crossed my mind.

I stared at the shadows dancing across the dark ceiling, cursing him, then me and then back to him. It was all his fault. He made me crave him. I was perfectly fine before he showed up. Well, minus the explosion and threats of murder.

With a sigh, I turned to my side and stared out the window. The moonlight reflected in the distance, the only visible light across the dark sky. Not even the stars could be seen. Just the lonely moon in the darkness of space. Kind of like this island in the middle of the ocean.

Yet, I didn’t feel lonely. Just agitated as fuck.

I tossed around for the hundredth time and finally gave up on sleep. I threw off the sheet and slid out of bed. Quietly stepping out of the bedroom, I tiptoed down the dark hallway and down the back staircase to the kitchen. The light from the moon spilled through the large windows and I opened the fridge door when I noticed a dark figure behind me.

Startled, I reacted on instinct and grabbed the first thing, then threw it across the air. The shadow ducked and avoided the milk jug, letting it hit against the wall and splash all over the title.

A familiar deep chuckle echoed through the kitchen. “Do you always throw milk at people?’

My heart raced and I put my hand on my chest. “Jesus, Raphael. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” he teased. He didn’t seem worried at all.

“No, but you could have announced your presence, you know?” When he didn’t respond, I continued, “What are you doing awake?”

“My wife didn’t come to bed,” he retorted dryly. “It makes it hard to sleep.”

A beat skipped in my chest and warmth erupted through my body. It was ridiculous that such simple words could cause such a ripple effect and make me melt on the inside.

My husband stood in front of me in nothing but pajama pants, his upper ink-marked body on full display. My body went white-hot as I stared at his hard, muscled chest. I had seen my share of men’s abs but none of them compared to Raphael’s. There wasn’t a single specimen that could hold a candle to this man. His six pack abs taunted me to push my soft body against his. Those strong hands threaded with veins and ink could be so rough, yet so gentle.

Peeling my eyes away from him by sheer will, I went into motion, rushing to grab a roll of paper towels and soaked them against the tile. Then I ran over to the trashcan and brought it over so I would avoid drips across the kitchen.

All the while I avoided looking at the most magnificent, mouthwatering body ever, painfully aware of his presence, watching my every move. The least he could do was help. But he stood there as a statue, his gaze burning me.

I washed my hands, his gaze burning a hole into my back. God, this man was making a goddamn idiot out of me. My eyes darted to the window, but darkness concealed any kind of view.

Once I dried my hands, I rushed to the big French doors and cracked them open, hoping the fresh air would help soothe this nervous energy buzzing underneath my skin. I opened the door and a warm breeze rushed in. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. I repeated the process again and again, desperation growing with each second.

I got myself into this mess. Even worse, I put Gabriel’s life on the line. Although, the contract my parents had with Santiago Tijuana told me that we were headed for trouble all along. I just got us there a bit faster.

“Reina, we have to talk.”

My eyes darted to him, watching him surrounded by darkness. My heartbeat vibrated underneath my chest. The way he looked at me made me weak in the knees.

With a heavy sigh, I glanced out the door, then returned my gaze back to him. Darkness danced between us - his, mine, ours. The glow of the moon threw just enough light to see ghosts flickering in his expression and I wondered if he could see mine.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re keeping me trapped on this island?”

I couldn’t face my ghosts nor the overwhelming guilt. Not yet.

“It’s not safe right now,” he explained, but the vagueness of it didn’t escape me. “There are threats coming in and I can’t risk something happening to you or Gabriel.”

“Was it your intention to ever let me go?” I questioned. He didn’t need an explanation. He knew exactly what I was referring to. This marriage was supposed to be a farce, a temporary protection. And he made it into a permanent knot.

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