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Chapter Eighteen

Rafaele

I wake up with Nora peacefully asleep in my arms, her soft breaths tickling my chest. I’ve never felt anything like this. The quiet contentment, the overwhelming sense of… rightness. It’s almost suffocating but in the best way possible. My body is relaxed, every muscle melted into the mattress, but my mind is racing, trying to process what the hell just happened to me last night.

She’s beautiful like this—vulnerable, soft, and completely unaware of the storm she’s left behind in me. Her hair is splayed across the pillow, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted as she breathes. Her eyelashes fan out over her skin, casting delicate shadows, and I can’t help but stare. I find myself counting the freckles that dot her nose and cheeks, tiny imperfections that only make her more perfect. My eyes drift lower to the little mole on the ball of her shoulder, and I feel an overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss it.

God, I don’t want to move. I don’t want to wake her, to disturb this rare moment of peace. But at the same time, I want to wake her. I want to kiss her awake, to feel her body against mine again, to lose myself in her all over again. The need is there—strong, primal, and growing by the second.

This was my first time. I know she doesn’t realize that. How could she? I’m a man used to taking control, and I’ve done my fair share of playing the role. But this? This was different. This was everything. It wasn’t just the way she touched me, though her hands seemed to know exactly where to go as if she could read my every unspoken need. It wasn’t just the way she looked at me, either, like I wasn’t the ruthless man the world believed me to be, but someone softer—someone worthy of her trust.

It was the way she made me feel like I didn’t have to pretend, like I could be stripped bare in every way, and she’d still want me. That’s why I felt confident—not because I knew what I was doing, but because I knew, with her, I couldn’t fail. It was like every nerve in my body was alive for the first time, and I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the only woman I could ever feel this with. The only one I’d ever want like this.

I brush a thumb over her shoulder, tracing the mole, careful not to wake her. I need to accept that she’s my weakness. I fought it for so long—trying to tell myself that love was dangerous, that caring for someone would only make them a target. And yes, she’s a weakness, but she’s also my strength. She gives me something to fight for, something worth protecting.

But it’s more than that. She’s burrowed her way so deep inside me, I know leaving her side will always be impossible now. Even when I should, when work comes first, it’ll be difficult. Like now—lying here, knowing I need to get up, need to deal with the never-ending bullshit of the family business, but all I want to do is stay. Stay here, with her, where everything else fades away.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of that realization settle over me. It’s dangerous, what I’m feeling. It goes against everything I’ve ever believed, everything I’ve ever trained myself to avoid. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop wanting her. Needing her. And maybe… maybe I don’t want to anymore.

I press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her hair. She stirs slightly, a small murmur escaping her lips as she shifts closer to me, her body instinctively seeking mine even in sleep.

And I know, right then, that no matter what happens, no matter how hard it gets, I’ll always come back to her.

“Sleep, amore,” I whisper, the words thick with emotion. With all the willpower I can muster, I slip out of bed, leaving her warmth behind. I pull on my pants and throw her one last lingering look before quietly leaving the room.

As I step into the corridor, I find Fate glaring up at me, her small eyes narrowed as if she’s silently judging me for taking her place beside Nora. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s small but feisty—reminding me so much of Nora. All light and sweetness, but with a soul as fierce as a warrior.

“I’d like to say I’m sorry for kicking you out of your room,” I murmur, crouching down to meet Fate’s gaze, “but I’m not.”

She huffs, glancing at the bedroom door.

“You’ll have to learn to share, little one, because that woman in there?” I grin. “She’s mine.”

Fate taps her paws against the floor, giving me another disapproving look.

“Fine,” I relent with a smile. “She’s all yours for now.” I open the door just enough to let her slip back inside and close it softly behind her.

I rub absently at the ache in my chest. It’s a good pain but one that terrifies me. I glance back at the door, where she sleeps, peaceful and unaware. She’s become the center of everything. And now, I have to make sure the world never figures that out—while ensuring she never doubts me. Not for a second.

Reluctantly, I head to my own room to shower, hesitating before I step under the water, not wanting to lose the scent of her lingering on my skin. But it’s time to slip into the role I’ve known all my life—The Reaper. The man who does what needs to be done, no matter the cost.

I’ve never had to switch between two sides of myself before. I’ve always been The Reaper, with every breath, every decision. But now, I feel something shifting. Having glimpsed heaven in her arms, hearing it in her moans—there’s no way I’ll ever want to go.

Once I’m dressed for the day, I head downstairs later than usual and find Teresa cooking, her back turned to me as she hums softly.

“Oh, Mr. Lucchese, you’re still here! Would you like some breakfast this morning?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder with a warm smile.

I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll just grab a coffee.”

She watches me for a moment, a knowing look crossing her face. “Just so you know, I’m taking good care of her. We all care for her, you know.”

“Yes,” I murmur, feeling a tightness in my chest. “She’s impossible not to love, isn’t she?”

Indeed, she is.

I don’t want to leave today. Every instinct in me tells me to stay, to work from home, to be near her—to make sure she doesn’t regret us and is willing to do it all again and again. But duty calls. I need to set the plan in motion and work on my father’s diversion. The sooner this business with Leo is forgotten, the sooner I can focus on spending more time with Nora. And maybe, just maybe, start working on the heir I never thought I’d want.

Kids were never my thing—tiny, needy humans with endless demands. But a child with Nora? That changes everything. A child with her would be different. It wouldn’t just be a legacy, it’d be a part of her, a part of us.

I finish my coffee quickly and make my way out of the house, but not before looking back toward the stairs, where I know she’s still sleeping. A part of me wants to rush back up, crawl into bed beside her, and hold her again. But business calls, and I have to deal with this now.

By the time I arrive at my father’s estate, I feel the weight of the day settling in. I promised Vargas I’d let him off the hook if he and his tech genius could pull this off. It’s no small mission, and it needs to be foolproof. If they succeed, everything will be set in motion.

When I step into the estate, I notice a few of my father’s most trusted men exiting his office. Their faces are grim, but that’s no surprise. I can’t help but smirk as I pass them, knowing full well what they’ve been discussing.

The plan is working.

The diversion is already in motion. Soon, my father will be too distracted with the new mess I’ve laid before him, and I’ll finally have the time and freedom to focus on what really matters—Nora, my queen, and the future we’ll build together.

I enter the office, knowing my father’s waiting. But for once, I’m not concerned about the confrontation. Today, I have the upper hand.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, watching him closely. His face is flushed, anger simmering just beneath the surface as he clutches a tumbler of scotch, drinking it down in one go.

“Fredo was a fucking traitor,” he spits out, slamming the empty glass down on the desk.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I know. We established that already. Drinking this early?” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s not even ten.”

“It doesn’t matter. I haven’t slept yet.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “It’s worse than we thought. It wasn’t just him.”

I sit up, feigning mild surprise. “Really?”

“He was involved with the whole cartel,” he continues, his voice tight. “And it seems he killed a few of their men.”

This is better than I expected. I cross my legs, settling in for the show. “Do you need my help?”

My father shoots me a sharp look, then glances toward the ceiling as if asking for patience. “No. Rodrigo only wants to deal with the boss. That’s me.”

“Ah.” I nod, biting back a smirk. For once, I won’t be cleaning up the mess. I won’t lie—watching him squirm gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction. He’s always kept me in the trenches, executing plans and dealing with the fallout while he stays on his throne. But today, he gets to deal with the flames while I sit comfortably on the sidelines.

“Well, good luck with that,” I say, adjusting my jacket. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

He grunts, swirling the remaining scotch in his glass, clearly displeased with the situation. But for once, it’s not my problem. Yet, there’s something inside me that wants to push this further, twist the knife.

“I’m taking Nora to Tuscany,” I announce casually, watching him closely for his reaction.

My father nearly chokes on his drink. “What?”

“Nora. My wife ,” I say, emphasizing the words. “I’m taking her to Tuscany. I owe her a honeymoon.”

He scoffs, setting his glass down hard on the table. “Since when do you owe a woman anything?”

“Since she’s my wife,” I repeat, keeping my voice steady.

His eyes narrow, the lines on his face deepening as he scrutinizes me. “Since when do you do honeymoons? You’re a sociopath, Rafaele.”

I don’t flinch at the accusation, though a part of me wants to argue. I’m not a sociopath. I thought I was, feeling so little for so long, but now… God, I feel. “Since I got married.”

“What the hell are you doing? What are you trying to pull? You’ve been married for what? Three months? Do you really think this is the time for vacations?” His voice rises with frustration.

I lean back in my chair, feigning nonchalance. “Tell me, father, why did you marry my mother?”

His lip curls in disgust. “Your mother was a whore.”

I flinch inwardly, the magnitude of hatred for this man becoming harder to suppress. “Before she was a whore,” I reply, my voice cool, the mask of indifference firmly in place.

“She was from a powerful family. I needed their support. And as a capo, I couldn’t just disappear for a honeymoon. I had to stay and rule. Like I expect you to do.”

“But I’m not the capo, am I? You are. You always say you rule with perfection. A week or two without me won’t bring the empire crumbling down.”

He presses his lips together, clearly aware that he’d be lost without me. I’ve ensured that I’m irreplaceable. But the truth is, I don’t just want this trip for power. I want it for her. I can already picture it: Nora in the Tuscan countryside, walking through fields of sunflowers, picking figs from an orchard. Maybe there, I could shed the skin of The Reaper, even if just for a little while. I could be the man she sees when she looks at me. The Rafaele I want to be, even if only for her.

“That’s what this is about?” my father snaps, his voice filled with suspicion. “You want me to step down?”

Yes . “Not particularly,” I say instead, a slight smirk tugging at my lips. “I’ve just found a new toy, and I’m enjoying her a lot more than I expected.”

He gives a curt nod. “Make sure that’s all she is. A toy for your pleasure, an obedient hostess, and a breeder for your children.”

Disgust coils in my gut, but I glance at my watch to mask the revulsion crawling up my throat. I can't let him see it. Not now.

“I can’t believe Leo didn’t notice he had a traitor under his nose at the club.” My father spits the words out, his face hardening with that familiar look of disappointment and accusation.

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Well, it’s hard to believe you didn’t notice and sent a traitor to spy on my brother.” I meet his gaze, the challenge clear in my voice. “But what do I know? I've been too busy to even look into any of it.”

He stiffens but doesn’t respond. The tension between us hangs heavy, unspoken but palpable. Finally, I stand, smoothing down my jacket, signaling the end of this tedious conversation. “I need to get to the club now. Best of luck with your meeting with Rodrigo.”

“Do you think you’d be a better capo than me?” he asks just as my hand reaches for the door.

I pause, halfway turned toward him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re always judging,” he says in a low, accusatory voice. “Always defending your brother. You’re my sottocapo, Rafaele. You owe me your loyalty.”

Loyalty is earned, I think to myself, but I keep that thought buried. I turn back fully, locking eyes with him. “You know how crucial loyalty is to me, Father. You have it.”

“Do I?” His voice sharpens with suspicion.

I sigh, my patience thinning. “I don’t have time for these games. What is it you really want to say?”

“Leo is up to something,” he says, his tone darkening.

I know. God, do I know . “Leo’s always up to something.” I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s probably women-related.”

“Find out what the hell he’s doing and fix it,” he demands, his voice brooking no argument.

“I will.”

“And no Tuscany until I say so.”

I clench my fist, his words pushing just enough to exert control. He wants to remind me who holds the power. I know if I push back, he’ll only make things worse. Besides, Nora’s studies need to be a priority right now—something I won’t tell him. I can only imagine the disgust he’d feel if he knew.

“Fine,” I say. He gives a curt nod, satisfied with my reluctant agreement.

"Good. Remember, Rafaele, I’m the one who makes the rules."

Disgust still curls in my stomach at his earlier words, but I keep my face impassive, watching him with that same calm detachment I’ve honed over the years. My father thrives on power plays, on seeing how much he can control, even when it comes to his own blood. But I’ve learned how to survive under his rule, how to navigate the endless games. I don’t show him my cards, not until I’m ready.

“I’ll deal with Leo,” I say, the words clipped as I turn back toward the door. "Anything else?"

He grunts, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that makes my skin crawl. "No. Just remember where your priorities lie, Rafaele."

I nod once, not bothering to respond. My priorities? They’re not what they used to be. And as much as my father thinks he controls everything, he doesn’t know me—not really. Not anymore. The words through clenched teeth. “No Tuscany.”

The moment I leave his office, a weight lifts from my chest, but not entirely. I’ve made enough compromises today to keep the peace, but it’s only a matter of time before I’ll take back the power I’ve given. And when that day comes, there won’t be any more deals, no more concessions.

When I leave his property, I'm in a sour mood. Normally, I’d head straight to the club to bury myself in work, but today, I decide to go home instead—home to Nora, my light, the peace I crave with every fiber of my being. This feeling is so different, yet I find myself yearning for it more and more.

On the drive, I call Paolo, asking him to deal with the business for today. Unlike my father, he’s earned my loyalty time and time again, and I trust him completely, just as he trusts me.

As I walk into the kitchen, the sweet scent of something baking greets me before I even see her. Nora is standing at the counter, her back to me, her body swaying slightly as she works the dough. She’s wearing a simple blue slip dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. I stand there for a moment, unnoticed, just watching her.

My heart does that unfamiliar squeeze it always does when I see her. How is it possible that this woman is mine? That she looks at me the way she does, desires me the way she does? How did I get so damn lucky?

Almost as if sensing my presence, she sways her hips, and my cock hardens instantly at the sight of her shapely ass. The memory of her soft body beneath mine floods my mind, and I know—no matter how much I have of her, it will never be enough. My need for her is insatiable, a fire that never dims.

“Where’s Teresa?” I ask, my voice low as I step closer, my eyes tracking the way her hips move.

“She went with her husband for his oncologist appointment,” she says, turning slightly, a little smile playing on her lips. “I told her to take the rest of the day… I hope that’s okay.”

I stop right behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her body radiating toward mine. I lean down, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “Of course it’s okay,” I murmur, my voice thick with desire. “It’s your home. You can do whatever you want.” I pause, letting my hands settle on her waist, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric of her dress. “But… does that mean we’re alone?”

Her blush spreads instantly, that sweet innocence that drives me wild. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice catching. “We’re all alone.”

“And are you okay, amore?”

“I am perfect.” She presses back, rubbing her ass against my dick, and that’s all it takes.

I turn her around in one swift movement, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. Her breath hitches, and I can feel the heat between us, the pulse of electricity sparking in the air. My lips crash onto hers, hungry, demanding, and she moans softly against my mouth, her fingers curling into my shirt.

My hands roam her body, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasps as I squeeze, and I love the way her body reacts to my touch—so responsive, so eager. I tear my mouth away from hers, breathing hard as I trail kisses down her neck, biting the tender skin there just enough to make her shudder.

“You taste delicious,” I growl against her skin, my hands moving lower, sliding beneath the hem of her dress. Her skin is soft and warm, and I want to feel every inch of her. “But I think I want to taste more.”

I pull her up onto the kitchen counter, pushing aside the flour and utensils she was using for baking. She’s breathless, her eyes wide with desire as I lean over her, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading them open.

Her gaze flickers to the dough, and a wicked smile spreads across my face. I dip my finger into the sticky sweetness she was kneading just moments before and hold it up to her lips. She takes it into her mouth, her tongue swirling around my finger, and my cock throbs painfully in response.

“I’m going to devour you,” I whisper, my voice thick with desire. “Right here, on this counter. I’m going to make you scream.”

Her breath hitches, and she nods, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Yes, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I want you, Rafaele.”

I trail my finger down her neck, over her collarbone, then lower, smearing the sticky dough over the swell of her breasts peeking from her low cleavage. Her body trembles beneath my touch, and I watch as her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her dress. Leaning down, I lick the sweetness from her skin, tasting the mix of sugar and Nora, and it drives me wild.

I rip the dress down, exposing her fully to me, and I groan at the sight of her—perfect, every curve, every inch of her skin, mine to touch, to taste. My mouth latches onto her breast, sucking hard, and she moans, arching into me, her body begging for more.

“You’re perfection,” I murmur against her skin, my teeth grazing her nipple, making her cry out. “You don’t know how much I want you. How much I need you.”

Her hands are in my hair, tugging, pulling me closer, and I growl, biting down gently on the tender flesh of her breast, loving the way her body shudders beneath me. I trail kisses lower, my tongue dipping into the curve of her belly, and I grab the jar of honey sitting nearby. I pour a slow, golden stream of it over her stomach, watching as it drips down between her thighs.

“Rafa…” she gasps, her body writhing beneath me as I spread her legs wider, licking the honey from her skin. “Oh god…”

I lean down, my tongue flicking over her slick folds, and she moans, her hips bucking against me. She’s wet, so fucking wet for me, and the taste of her mixed with the honey is enough to make me lose my mind. I grip her thighs tighter, my fingers digging into her flesh as I devour her, my tongue swirling over her clit, teasing her, driving her higher and higher.

“Rafaele!” she cries, her body trembling as she grips the edge of the counter. “Please… I’m going to?—”

But I don’t stop. I push two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she screams, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Her body spasms, tightening around my fingers, and I groan, the sight and taste of her coming undone pushing me closer to the edge.

I pull away, my cock painfully hard, throbbing with need, and I stand between her legs, gripping her hips as I line myself up with her entrance.

“Do you want me?” I ask, my voice rough, almost desperate.

“Yes,” she gasps, her hands gripping my arms as she looks up at me. “All of you.”

With one powerful thrust, I’m inside her, burying myself deep in her tight, wet heat. She moans loudly, her head falling back as I begin to move, slow at first, savoring the feel of her wrapped around me, her body squeezing me like a vice.

“You’re mine,” I growl, my hands tightening on her hips, hard enough to leave marks. “All mine.”

Her moans turn into gasps as I pick up the pace, my hips slamming against hers, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the empty kitchen. She clings to me, her nails raking down my back, and I can feel her getting closer again, her body tightening around me as I fuck her harder, faster.

“Rafa… I’m… oh god…” she cries, her body trembling as she grips the counter for support.

I reach down, my thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, and she explodes, her second orgasm ripping through her, her entire body shaking beneath me.

I groan, my own release barreling toward me, and with a final, deep thrust, I come inside her, spilling everything I have as I growl her name, my body shaking from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, we’re both frozen, gasping for breath, still joined, still trembling. I look down at her—flushed, beautiful, mine —and I lean down, kissing her deeply, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine.

“I can’t get enough of you,” I whisper against her lips, my voice raw with the depth of my need. “I’ll never get enough.”

“I don’t want you to ever get enough of me, Rafaele. I’m… I care for you,” she says, her voice unsteady, and though she doesn’t say it all, I can feel the gravity of her unspoken words.

I pull her closer, holding her tightly against me, letting her words sink in. I think the rest, though neither of us says it aloud yet. Something terrifying is happening to me—I’m falling in love with her. And worse? I want to.

She rests her forehead against mine, both of us catching our breath. Our bodies are tangled together, the warmth of her skin pressed against mine. Slowly, the moment of intensity begins to fade, but the closeness remains. Her fingers trace absent patterns on my chest, and I let my hand slide down her back, savoring every inch of her.

“You realize we can’t stay like this forever, right?” she murmurs, a small laugh escaping her as she glances around the kitchen.

I smile, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I know.” My voice is lighter, but inside, I still feel that weight—that pull toward her.

Reluctantly, I move back, helping her shift off me, her legs still trembling a bit as we disentangle from each other. I adjust myself, catching her gaze as she straightens her clothes. She looks flustered, radiant, and I want nothing more than to pull her into me again.

But for now, I step back, letting her catch her breath, though the truth lingers between us: I’m in too deep. And the frightening part? I don’t want to pull away.

“You’re dangerous, Nora Lucchese,” I say softly, meeting her eyes.

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Dangerous? Says the mafia prince?”

I grin, but inside, it’s anything but a joke. She has no idea how true that is. “Yeah. Dangerous.”

She steps closer, brushing her fingers along my jaw. “Maybe we’re dangerous together.”

I grab her hand and kiss her palm, keeping it there just long enough to feel her pulse against my lips. “Together,” I say, my voice low, filled with a promise I never thought I’d make.

Because without a shadow of a doubt, I know I’d kill anyone who tried to take her from me. Even my father. Especially him if it came to that.

The irony isn't lost on me. Me—the epitome of loyalty—would betray anyone for this woman. My father always taught me that loyalty is the ultimate strength, the foundation of power. But now, I understand something he never could: I’ve found the price of my loyalty, the price of my sanity, and it’s her—this five-one, curvy goddess who has wrapped herself around my heart.

She looks up at me, unaware of the storm she’s ignited, and I can’t help but smirk. I thought I was the one in control, the one holding the cards. But now? Now, I realize she owns every part of me.

And the worst part? I’m okay with that.