Page 70 of Of Oaths and Secrets

“No.” His voice is sharp now. “Don’t bring your mother into this. This isn’t your parents’ relationship. It’s ours.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Keeping this distance, not communicating—it’s making you miserable, and it frustrates the hell out of me. I’m not your father, and you’re not your mother. I care about you. I want you to be happy—at least as happy as you can be, shackled to a man like me.”

The rawness in his words chips away at my defenses. “I’m scared,” I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His head snaps toward me, disbelief written across his face. “What are you scared of? Damn it, Nora, I would never hurt you. That kind of cruelty will never touch you.”

“But it did just now,” I whisper. “I wanted to be close to you, and you rejected me. I know you had your reasons, but this hot and cold… it’s too much. I need to protect myself.” I shake my head, emotions twisting inside me like a storm. “I’m scared of letting myself go.”

“Why?” His voice is softer now, almost pleading.

“Because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll fall for you,” I confess, my chest tightening with the vulnerability of the words. “And that would be stupid because it will never be reciprocated. Not that I blame you for it. But I need you to stop making it so hard for me to keep my promise to myself.”

Silence fills the car, thick and suffocating. Rafaele’s jaw tightens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes—anger, frustration, and something else I can’t quite place. It feels like we’re both standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure of who will jump first.

“Nora,” he begins, his voice rough with emotion as we pull up to the house.

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, desperate to end the conversation. As soon as the car stops, I unbuckle and step out, my heart heavy as I hurry toward the house, needing to be alone with my shame.

“Wait!” he calls just as I reach the top of the stairs inside.

I turn around, watching as he approaches slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. “You don’t like people talking for you, interpreting your thoughts,” he says, his voice low and measured, “yet you’re doing it for me. Do you think that’s fair?”

I take a step back. “Do you deny it?” I challenge, bracing myself.

“How can I deny or confirm something I’m still figuring out?” He reaches the first step, his hands buried deep in his pockets, looking casual—but the tightness in his jaw reveals his frustration. I step back again, instinctively creating more distance, but he follows, always maintaining just enough space between us. “Are you asking me if I’ll ever love you?”

I can barely breathe, the question hanging in the air like a blade. “No,” I whisper, even though my heart is screaming yes.

He nods, his gaze never leaving mine. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry that I can’t, and I won’t lie to you. I respect you too much for that.” He pauses, his expression softening, and when he speaks again, his voice is raw, almost vulnerable. “But what I can tell you is this—I think I’ve become addicted to you without even realizing it. It's hard to explain, but you’ve got a hold on me I can’t shake. Every day, you're there, running through my head. At night, when everything else quiets down, my thoughts don’t. They’re loud, and they’re all about you.”

He takes a step closer, and I feel my heart race in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears.

“I find myself lying awake, just wishing I could talk to you,” he continues, his eyes intense. “You’re the last thing I think about before I finally fall asleep and the first thing that comes tomind when I wake up. That’s how my days are now. I think I care about you more than you realize. I appreciate you more than I’ve probably shown. And every time we look at each other, I need to know—do you feel any of this too? Tell me you do. Tell me I’m not the only one lying awake at night, wishing you were right there with me.”

Tears prick at my eyes, my chest tightening, the dress suddenly feeling too tight, as if it’s constricting my ability to breathe. Or maybe it’s my heart beating so fast that it’s making everything else fade into the background.

“I do,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “God help me, I do. But I didn’t want to.”

He takes a step closer, his dark eyes searching mine, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. “I didn’t mean to hurt you at the opera,” he says, his voice low and raw. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do, and I’d kill anyone who tries. But I’m scared, Nora.” His gaze softens, vulnerability seeping into his tone. “I’m worried about the target you’ll become because of what I feel for you. I’m worried that my need to protect you might end up being the very thing that puts you in danger. I’m still figuring this out, amore, just… be patient with me.”

His words hit me like a wave, crashing over the walls I’ve tried so hard to keep up. He’s not the untouchable man he presents to the world. He’s just as scared as I am. The realization breaks something inside me, and the tears that were pricking at the corners of my eyes finally spill over.

I take a shaky breath, trying to find my voice. “I’m scared too. But it’s not just about the danger. It’s about what I feel for you, how deep it’s getting. I’m terrified because if I fall any harder, I know there’s no coming back, and I will lose myself.”

He steps even closer, his hand gently brushing a tear from my cheek. “You won’t lose yourself. I won’t allow it. Not ever. I swear it.”

His words are a promise, and though the fear still remains, a part of me begins to believe him. I reach out, taking his hand in mine, feeling the warmth of his skin, grounding me in this moment.

“Goodnight, amore.” He leans down to kiss me goodnight, his lips brushing mine with such tenderness that it feels like he’s holding something back.

When he starts to pull away, I tighten my hold on his hand, my heart pounding. “Stay,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.

He freezes, his eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt. “Are you sure, Nora? I need you to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” I breathe out, my chest tight with anticipation. “I want you.”

His gaze darkens, a slow-burning fire igniting behind his eyes, but there’s still a softness in the way he touches my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. He leans in again, kissing me, but this time, the kiss is deeper, hungrier, a raw need simmering beneath the surface.

The second we’re inside the room, his hands are on me, his lips moving over mine with an urgency that sends a thrill through me. He tugs me against him, and I can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing into my stomach, sending a pulse of heat straight to my core. My body reacts instinctively, aching for him, and I reach for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to get them undone as quickly as possible.

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