Page 74 of Broken Mafia Prince
Pulling my legs up, I curl up into a ball, staring into nothing.
I stay up for too long waiting for Raffaele to come back and hoping he doesn’t.
24
GIULIA
Someone is in my bedroom.
The thought jerks me into full consciousness, but I remain perfectly still, keeping my breaths even and my eyes squeezed shut. Slowly, I inch my hand under my pillow in search of my gun. Panic lances through me when I come up empty.
I must have left it in the bedside drawer. If I can reach for it before the intruder catches on, I can?—
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of sizzling. It’s strange enough to make my eyes fly open. Instead of my plain beige bedroom walls, I find myself facing stained wood paneling. At that moment, the memories come rushing back like a flood, and I jerk upright, eyes wide.
I really went to see Raffaele yesterday. We really got attacked by Syndicate operatives, and I really let him spread my legs on a kitchen counter in an unknown location and finger me into a mind-blowing orgasm. Holy shit, what was I thinking? Had I been thinking at all?
There’s another sizzling sound, and this time around, my head snaps to the side, or more specifically to where the man inquestion is standing, wearing low-riding sweatpants and—holy God in heaven—nothing else. My hungry gaze tracks down the rippling muscles of his back to the two divots right above the waistband of the pants.
A flutter rises in the bottom of my stomach, and I swallow. Waking up to a sinfully sexy man cooking half-naked is something I didn’t know I needed before now, but now, I’ve seen the light.
Just as slowly as they crept down, my eyes begin to move back up.
The sound of Raffaele clearing his throat causes my eyes to fly up to his, and to my horror, I find him watching me, a small smile pulling at his mouth.
“You could have done a full sketch in the time it took you to ogle me. That’d have lasted longer,” he says.
Scalding heat rises up my cheeks. I quickly duck my face. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He still sounds amused, and it grates at my nerves, but at least he returns his focus to the pan.
Whatever he’s cooking smells amazing. I never would have guessed that a man like him, who must be used to people jumping at his orders at the click of his fingers, would be able to even boil water. It seems there’s a lot about Raffaele I don’t know. As a matter of fact, I don’t know him at all, I have to remember that.
It might look or feel like we’re buddies, but he’s definitely not on my side. He’s on the side of whatever protects his best interests.
A glance down at myself reveals that I’m still fully clothed. I make a face at the realization that I went right to bed after what happened last night without even cleaning up in the bathroom.
As if Raffaele can read my mind, he suddenly glances over his shoulder. “There’s sweatpants and a T-shirt in the bottom drawer. A spare toothbrush is in the bathroom. If you want.”
“Uh, thanks.” I stumble to my feet. I don’t meet his eyes as I hurry for the bathroom, wondering if he realizes that his chopping board is right where my ass was last night.
I let out a sigh of relief when I’m safely enclosed in the bathroom. I quickly rip the toothbrush from the pack and brush my teeth. I wash my face at the sink, then change out of my clothes. The clothes swallow me whole, and I have to roll the waistband of the joggers several times for them to stay up. I look like a little kid playing dress-up in her parents’ clothes.
Sighing, I drag my fingers through my hair before stepping out of the bathroom.
Raffaele is plating up the food when I step back into the room, and he passes me a plate as I walk past. The pancakes look perfectly fluffy and golden, and so does the bacon. I settle on the edge of the bed with my plate, and he passes me a glass of juice. When I raise my eyebrows at that, he shrugs.
“I don’t drink coffee, so I don’t keep any here,” he explains, completely unembarrassed that he drinks children’s fruit juice.
My mouth twitches with a smile, but I bite it back, tucking into my food. A deep moan slips out as the food touches my mouth, flavor bursting out on my tongue. It’s safe to say that the food tastes just as good as it looks. Is there anything he can’t do?
I peek up at him leaning against the counter, wolfing down his food like he hasn’t eaten in years. A man of his size must need a lot of food to fuel him. I wonder what else he has a large appetite for. If I let him, would he?—
I shove the dirty thought back where it came from and concentrate on taking one bite after another. Thoughts like that lead nowhere good. I should know; after all, a few hours ago, I’dbeen begging for Raffaele’s touch like he was cocaine and I’m an addict.
“How do you think they found us?” I ask. “I mean, at the warehouse? Do you think they’re following us?”
He glances over at me. “Why would they be following us? Unless they know we know something, and the only way they’ll know that is if either of us told someone.”
