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I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Va tutto bene, dolcezza. Sei al sicuro con me e non ti lascerò mai andare.”

29

RAFAEL

“Some bruising.Particularly at the throat. You’ll probably notice it feels raw and that your voice might sound hoarse. That’s from the damage to your larynx and the swelling in your trachea. It should reduce in a few days, but you’ll feel some mild discomfort. We’ll keep you on the anti-inflammatories to reduce the swelling,” says my physician. He trails his fingers along the deep purple bruising on Portia’s throat. “Luckily, Mr. Calderone saved you quick enough that you didn’t consume much water. We’ll monitor you for any signs of secondary drowning or infection, especially pneumonia, just to be on the extra safe side. But you should be in the clear.”

Portia gives him a relieved smile, then glances at me. She’s still not herself, more quiet and subdued than usual. She’s draped in a thermal blanket that I’ve put over her shoulders to keep her warm. It makes her look even smaller than she is.

As if my protective instinct weren’t already on its highest setting.

I haven’t left her side. All I want to do is put my arms around her and hold her ’til she’s back to herself.

But I also understand where she’s coming from—tonight was a hell of a lot to experience. It’s left even me drained, eyes aching and my head polluted with a million different thoughts.

There’s so much left to handle and address that it feels like an avalanche rolling down toward me.

It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I remind myself this as I link my fingers with Portia’s and help her down from the exam table. She naturally fits against my side, leaning her head onto my chest.

We haven’t talked much since what happened at the docks, but we’ve come to an unspoken understanding.

Things have been strained between us in recent days, but we’re still together. We’re going to work through it all.

I take her to my bedroom and start a hot shower for her.

“Get in,” I say, kissing the top of her head. Her hair’s started to curl at the root as it gradually dries, her natural texture coming through. I take the blanket from her shoulders and help unzip the form-fitted dress she’s put herself in.

The torn hem enraged me all over again when I pulled her out of the water. Portia assured me in the back of the Audi on our ride home that she hadn’t been violated in that way. Sergio Sacrimoni being the piece of shit he was, thought it would be funny to use part of her dress to bandage himself.

My rage has gone nowhere.

Everything else she’s experienced tonight is enough to draw the devil out of me. It’s almost enough to make me black out and turn into the other half of me. So far, I’ve managed to keep it under lock when in Portia’s presence.

But knowing that Sergio and the Tucos so easily and eagerly targeted her—andhavebeen targeting her all along—ignites a new, untold level of fury.

I’ve assumed recent events were directed at me. Moments like the shooting at the Rise and Thrive charity dinner and the boat explosion pointed to the Tucos suspecting I was Il Diavolo. It seems, at least according to Sergio, these were actually attacks against Portia.

The Tucos didn’t want her investigating the drug shipments. They were aware, like I was, that she was getting closer to the truth.

I help Portia into the shower, then excuse myself for a moment.

Mara happens to be passing by in the hall when I step out of my room. I pull her aside and ask her to prepare a few things to help Portia feel better.

“Sì, signor Calderone. Per favore, mi dia qualche minuto.” My loyal, reliable maid scurries off to go make it happen.

I stop by my office quickly and lay out my next set of orders to Adagio and Maurizio, putting them in charge for the next twelve hours. Maurizio will be filling in as Il Diavolo for any matters pertaining to Titus Tuco while Adagio is in charge of handling Sergio.

“Only emergencies,” I tell them. “I am with her and no one else until tomorrow afternoon.”

By the time I return to my bedroom, the shower’s still going. Portia’s only just gotten started enjoying her sizzling hot shower.

I step into the bathroom stealthily, taking a moment to watch her (and, admittedly, enjoy the sight).

She’s directly under the spray, working conditioner through her hair with her fingers. The water and soap suds run down her curvy-slim body, sliding from her round breasts and flat stomach to the apex of her thighs.

Portia keeps her pussy with a fuzzy strip of barely-there hair that drives me wild every time I see it.

Now is no different as I spend a couple seconds watching her and my cock swells inside my pants. Tonight is about taking care of her, and ensuring she feels better from everything that happened, but I’m still a man with a voracious appetite—most of all, for her and her only.