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Gavino nods like the loyal employee of Rafael that he is. He turns to go, his black suit jacket shifting to reveal a handgun holstered to his hip.

I reach out to touch his shoulder. “Are you carrying?”

Glancing down at his holster, he tugs at the lapel of his jacket to fix how it hangs on his torso. “Yes,signora. Mr. Calderone requires all his employees to be armed in the event of…”

“In the event of what?”

The corner of Gavino’s mouth lifts. “In the event of emergency situations. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

Minutes later, I’m dragging dresser drawers open and packing things into my overnight bag thinking about what Gavino had said. The term ‘emergency situations’ is so vague it depends on what someone considers an emergency to be.

I hadn’t expected Gavino to interrupt our chat with Luigi Grasso, though I’m still lightheaded from relief.

Gavino had done so confidently, like he was certain Luigi wouldn’t—and even couldn’t—object. He had casually dropped Rafael’s name and Luigi seemed to realize he couldn’t control the situation like he had originally assumed.

How is a mobster like Luigi familiar with Rafael? Was it the same general knowledge the public has about Rafael as a billionaire businessman or does it stretch further than that?

It conjures up thoughts about the boxing championship match where Rafael had risen out of his seat and practically skewered Quinard Iverson with only a venomous look.

If looks could kill, Rafael’s glare would’ve had Iverson dropping dead on the spot.

The boxer had immediately backed down.

Virtually unheard of from the titan-sized boxing champ.

I’m frowning zipping up my bag and shaking away these thoughts.

Rafael is an intimidating man. He’s one of the richest men on the planet. It stands to reason that most people would be afraid of him when he flexed his power. He might be romantic and passionate with me, but it seems he has a formidable reputation with everyone else.

Jayla stops in the doorway to my bedroom, arms tightly folded, her expression still a little moody from earlier.

“Going somewhere?” she asks.

“Rafael asked me to spend the night.”

“Hmmm.”

“What’s the ‘hmmm’ for? Are you not speaking to me yet?”

“Hmmm nothing. Just thinking.”

“Okay, well, if you think of anything important, then text me. I’m out.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and squeeze past her into the hall.

Downstairs, Gavino opens the rear door for me with a smile and nod. He’s returned to his cute Italian-boy-next-door schtick, not the hardened enforcer he’d quickly turned into earlier at Bocca. I clear it out of my mind for the last time today and sit back to enjoy the ride on the way to Rafael’s.

* * *

Rafael’s whistle makes heat flush onto my skin.

I look up with a coy smile and wiggle my shoulders playfully. “Like what you see?”

“Do I like what I see?” he repeats, cracking a grin and stroking his bearded jaw in the sexiest manner possible. He starts toward me bare chested in nothing but his swim trunks. Once he reaches me, his arms circle my waist and tug me toward him. “I don’t think the answer yes would suffice.”

He drops sweet kiss after kiss on my lips. Little blips of affection that feel like an appetizer. I slide my hands up his chest and let out a throaty noise that almost resembles a purr.

“Good,” I answer. “This way I get more kisses.”

“Is this bikini new?” He steps back to appraise the tiny triangles of coral fabric tied strategically to my body. It’s more so an excuse to ogle me some more and make my temperature rise.