Page 72 of Tempted By the Devil

As composed and apathetic as I want to be, I can’t help giving in. A smile cracks through, softening my expression.

“How was it?” she asks. “As good as the time in Sicily? Tell me you didn’t fuck in the public restroom at the stadium!”

“No,” I say quickly. “Give mesomecredit. It was… um, in the back of his limo.”

The squeals Jayla lets out give the previous ones a run for their money. I clap hands over my ears as she erupts in a mix of laughs and cheers.

“Yessss!” she yells, whooping the air. “That’s my sissy! Getting it in in a whole-ass limousine like the queen she is! Love that for you!”

“You are the worst. Wait ’til next time you smash some guy. I promise I’ll have a megaphone ready.AndMom and Dad on Facetime.”

“Now you know you’re wrong for that, sissy.”

She shadows me as I move from the hall into my bedroom. As I unpin my earrings and kick off my heels, she’s bursting with question after question.

“Why didn’t you spend the night at his place?”

“He asked me to. I chose not to.”

“Was he mad about Iverson flirting with you on camera?”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“Was Adagio with him?”

I cast her a raised eyebrow look. “I thought it was just a one-time thing?”

She smirks, giving a shrug and plopping down on the edge of my bed. “Hey, when in Rome…”

“Except we’re not in Rome. We’re not even in Sicily. This was… this was just a fluke. I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t count on anything else coming from it.”

“Sure, girl. That’s what you’vebeensaying. Rafael Calderone has made it clear he ain’t the type to give up easily. Keep things casual, but no use cutting him off yet. The man is wining, dining, and fucking you just right. What’s there to complain about?”

I can’t bring myself to answer Jayla.

Mostly because… she’s right. Whatisthere to complain about if Rafael is treating me so well and I’m equally as attracted and drawn to him?

Yet as I pull open a dresser drawer and dig out a pair of PJs, I’m reminded just why I’m so resistant.

Almost two years later, the disappointment still echoes inside me. The suddenness with which he changed his mindterrifiesme. What if it happens again? What if this time it’s worse?

* * *

I’m out in the field the next day, intentionally avoiding the office. I tell Baron I’m researching the latest story we’ve been reporting on—a local controversy about a brawl that broke out at a bakery—and I use the time to clear my head.

While it’s true I do turn up at the bakery to interview the owner, I’m also still processing last night. Clips of the fight have gone viral on social media, including the segment where I interviewed Quinard Iverson and he flirted with me.

His kissy face once he won the match has garnered fifteen million TikTok views. So has Rafael’s reaction, sparking a viral debate about messing with a billionaire businessman.

There’s even TikToks joking about Rafael hiring the mafia to “handle” Iverson that are trending.

“I’d be careful if I were Quinard!” laughs one Tiktoker. “Rafael Calderone might call in the reinforcements! Il Diavolo just might end up at his door!”

“Listen, I wouldn’t want to mess with Quinard Iverson and that two piece he serves,” says another Tiktoker, shaking his head. “But I also wouldn’t want to mess with an Italian businessman who probably has the mob on speed dial. We don’t want no Diavolo shenanigans popping off!”

I’d laugh if I weren’t already so shaken by Rafael.

He had stood up to Iverson so effortlessly, so boldly. Most men, even extremely wealthy men, would be afraid of a man whose fists were literally registered as lethal weapons. Yet Rafael hadn’t flinched, staring at Iverson almost murderously, like he was on his hit list.

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