Page 14 of Gambit
He nods once, and that’s the end of it from him, but I have something I need to say. They’re all thinking it, so I have to tell them.
“He hit me, and he jerked off over me. That’s it.” I don’t need to say that’s all he managed before they swooped in to my rescue. But they know, and that’s enough.
I see it in their eyes, the shift from stormy anger to quiet relief.
Raphael moves first, stepping out from the group. That familiar fire in his eyes is now replaced with something fiercer, more urgent. He doesn’t ask if I want help; he doesn’t need to. With a swift motion, he scoops me up against his chest. His arms are secure and solid, and for a fleeting moment, I allow myself the luxury of leaning into his warmth.
“Jeep’s this way,” James says, his voice low, guiding us down the dusty road.
We reach the Jeep, a quiet beast waiting to carry us far away from the day’s darkness. I don’t even know what time it is or how long I was with that fucker, but it doesn’t matter. My guys didn’t stop until they found me. Raphael’s grip shifts as he eases me onto the back seat, his hands lingering a second longer than necessary. He’s always had this way of speaking without words, telling me I’m not alone even when I’m surrounded by shadows.
The rest of the guys squash in, and the Jeep hums beneath us as Oliver switches it on and turns around to make our way back home. Raphael sits close, his presence a solid comfort, giving me his strength when I need it most to boost mine. His hand rests gently on mine, a silent reassurance. The tension eases from my shoulders inch by inch as Oliver floors it to get us home as quickly as possible.
Sooner than I think, we pull into the driveway of our townhouse. As the vehicle comes to a stop, Raphael’s hand tightens slightly.
“Come on, Eliza,” he says softly, and I feel the gravelly texture of his concern. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I shuffle out of the Jeep, my legs unsteady, my arms and shoulders aching like a bitch from being restrained so tightly for so long. Raphael doesn’t leave my side, his arm around my waist now, steadying me as we make it to the front door, my other hand gripping the front of my dress in some false sense of modesty. James unlocks it, pushing it open for us, and we’re swallowed by the warmth of the house.
“Thanks,” I murmur to them all, but my gaze lingers on Raphael, who nods in acknowledgement.
“Always,” he replies, and there’s an edge to his voice, a promise of retribution for those who dare harm what’s his.
He leads me straight to my bathroom, and I wince at the sight of myself in the mirror—I’m a fucking mess. Again.
Raphael is behind me in an instant, his hands gentle as he unzips the torn dress and lets it fall to the floor.
“Shower,” I say.
“Of course,” he responds, turning on the water. Steam fills the small space, wrapping around us like a cocoon. I slip out of my knickers and smile to myself as Raphael avoids looking at me all naked in front of him. He helps me step into the shower, thehot spray a shock against my cool skin. Raphael’s fingers brush against mine, tentative, asking for permission.
“Stay.”
He kicks off his boots and disarms himself, but to my surprise, he steps in without hesitation, the water soaking his clothes in seconds. My heart does a somersault that he did this sweet thing, and I nearly choke on a sob.
Nearly.
I won’t fucking cry over that utter twat, nor about my situation. Hughes don’t fucking break - ever. Dad needs to revise his mantra because if this hasn’t broken me, nothing will.
Raph’s hands are careful as he washes away the grime, the cum, the blood, all traces of Professor Franks from my skin. Each movement is tender and worshipful, almost as if he’s trying to heal every wound with his touch.
“Better?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for any lingering shadows.
“Getting there,” I admit, feeling the weight of the ordeal lift with his help. “Thanks.”
“Stop thanking me,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble over the sound of falling water. “Whatever you need.”
As the steam clouds around us, I lean into him, drawing strength from the man who stands with me against the world. With Raphael, I’m more than just the heiress to a mafia throne—Iaminvincible.
And Franks knows that now.
“Who’s stupid now, asshole?”
“Huh?” Raph looks down at me, making me realise I uttered those words out loud. I smile up at him, and it’s like the haze just drifts away.
“Nothing.”
Turning from him, I press my palms against the cool tile, leaning into the hot streams pouring from above. Raphaeldoesn’t move away, his presence behind me is a silent promise of protection. I close my eyes and let the water wash over me, washing away everything and restoring what I thought I was losing.
