Page 76 of My Dark Fairy Tale

“Someone called and reported a possible break-in twenty minutes ago. The pigs are there now looking everything over.”

My mind whirred.

I did not believe in coincidences. What was the likelihood that I would show up at the function with Guinevere and hours later someone had broken into her apartment?

“Find out what happenedexactly,” I ordered. “We are on our way now.”

“Martina is two minutes out. She will meet you there.”

I cursed after hanging up, my thoughts so preoccupied I almost snarled when Guinevere reached out to touch my arm.

“I really can’t afford to lose all my possessions twice in one trip,” she tried to joke, the concern on her face formewhen she had been the one broken into. “Are you okay?”

I grabbed her hand, brought it to my mouth, and kissed the center of her palm before curling my fingers around it. Touching her grounded me like a lightning rod.

“No, I do not like the idea of a strange man in your space.” I could barely say the words without my teeth grinding. “I do not like that it seems they waited for you to be gone, which means they were probably watching the apartment.”

“Oh my God.”

“I am not saying that to scare you, only to explain why I feel like breaking something.”

“That is so creepy,” she murmured, gaze going vacant out the window as she thought about it. “I will definitely have problems sleeping after this.”

“You will not be doing it under that roof,” I declared. “Assolutamente no.”

Absolutely not.

“Raffa,” she started, but I raised our joined hands to my mouth and gently bit her finger to stop her.

“No. On this, you must agree with me, Guinevere. You cannot expect me to sleep knowing my worst nightmares have come true and someone has broken into that apartment. I am too far away to make it to you if something happened. Please,” I said, even though I had not begged anyone for anything since well before my father died. “Come stay with me for the rest of your time here. Even without this danger, I would want you under my roof.”

She was silent for long enough that I dragged my gaze from the road to see she was chewing her lower lip.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she said finally.

My laugh was a short, sharp exclamation. “Guinevere, I dream of you nightly. It will not be a hardship to wake up and realize reality is far better than the dream.”

We drove onto her street to see blue police cars blocking the entrance to the apartment. I pulled up behind one and got out, ignoring the way one cop yelled that I could not park there.

“Take this,” I said, yanking off my jacket to help Guinevere into it. If she held it closed over her breasts, it would hide the worst of the wine stain.

“Thank you,” she said, surprising me by taking my hand as we moved forward.

I should have let go, but I did not want to.

Martina was waiting by the front door with a strained look on her face. If Guinevere was shocked to see her in a designer suit and high heels when she had only seen her in workout gear, she didn’t blink an eye.

This Martina was my lawyer, the future consigliere of the northern Camorra.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Deputy Chief of the DIA Sansone Pucci is upstairs with the police,” she explained. “He arrived just after me, still in his party clothes.”

“Merda,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, thank you for the heads-up.”

She nodded, then turned to Guinevere. “How are you faring?”

“I’ve had an eventful day, and all I want to do is sleep,” she admitted.