Page 213 of Rosetti Family New York
I bury my face in the pillow, half laughing, half groaning. Who does he think he is? One minute I’m ready to climb him like a jungle gym, the next I want to strangle him. He kisses like he’s drowning, like I’m the air he needs. And I kissed him back. All in. I know the kind of man he is, but for a moment, it didn’t matter. I wanted him to be the one who makes it better. Who doesn’t blame me for everything, including things I can’t control.
Then, out of nowhere, he pulls away. Leaves me in pieces.
I am so mad. But it’s not the kind of mad that burns out. It sits heavy, smoldering like coals that won’t die. I roll off the bed and pace the room, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to warm up. It’s no use. Nothing here feels warm, not with him on my mind. Everything about this mansion is too big, too cold. Like him. The second I think I’ve got him figured out, he throws me a curveball and I’m back at square one, more confused than ever. More pissed than ever.
But pissed in a good way, if there is such a thing. The kind of pissed that makes me even more sure I’m right about him. The kind that makes me want to prove he’s wrong about me.
When he kissed me, when he touched me, it was like he was giving me a glimpse. Just a tiny sliver of what it could be like if he let me in. More than just heat and bodies colliding. It was pure adrenaline. It was raw and real, and he didn’t hold back. Not for one second.
It made everything else fade away. Everything except him and me.
I shouldn’t let him do this to me. I’m the one who’s supposed to understand people, right? It’s what I study. It’s what I’m good at. But with him, I’m lost. I thought I was stronger than this, buthere I am. There’s something about Rafe that makes me forget the rules. Forget why I shouldn’t be this close to him. Forget he’s a living, breathing red flag, waving right in front of my face.
Forget he’s already breaking my heart before I get a chance to let him in.
Maybe that’s why I can’t stay mad. He’s not just keeping me at arm’s length. He’s fighting himself as much as he’s fighting me. But damn it, Rafe, if you’re going to push me away, at least be consistent. One minute, he’s the dark, dangerous stranger I shouldn’t want, and the next, he’s this man who lets me believe he’s human enough to try. And here I am, fooling myself into thinking I’m not into it.
I huff out a breath and look around. There’s nothing in this room that’s mine. No pictures, no books, just stark white walls and a chair that looks like it might bite me if I sit on it wrong. It’s just like the rest of the house. All money, no warmth. Maybe he thinks that’s all I care about. The way he sneered when he called me a princess cut deep. But I’m tougher than he thinks. I won’t let him be the one to break me.
If anything, I’m going to be the one to break him.
My hands are ice, my pulse is fire. I know I’m spiraling, but isn’t that the whole point? I want him to see what I’m made of, even if it’s not what he expects. Especially if it’s not what he expects. I don’t care how long it takes. He’s going to know he was wrong about me, wrong about us, wrong to think I can’t handle him. I’m going to make sure he sees me, all of me, just like he did when he kissed me. And I’m going to make sure he knows he wants it, even if he’s too scared to admit it.
I’m staying in this frigid, empty room as long as it takes for him to come to his senses. He can push me away, but he’s not getting rid of me that easily. Not by a long shot. It’s what he doesn’t realize yet. I like bad ideas, and he’s the best worst idea I’ve ever had.
I head to the kitchen. I’m not about to hide in a room with less personality than a cafeteria tray, no matter how hot Rafe is one minute and how much I want to strangle him the next. I push through the big, empty rooms and down the stairs. I reach the kitchen and see him sitting there alone, leather gloves and brooding expression in place. He looks like he owns the world. He does own the world, more or less, but I’m not about to let him own me. He looks up and beckons me in, and my heart does a little somersault.
I hesitate. My hand is still on the doorframe, half of me ready to bolt back to my white-walled prison and avoid this...whatever this is. The other half steps forward. He doesn't say a word, just tilts his head slightly. I wish I could hate him. I wish I could let him think I’m sulking, but that’s not my style. I’m nothing if not stubborn. I let out a slow breath and walk in.
He’s at the huge, industrial fridge by the time I reach the counter. The stainless steel glints in the fluorescent light, like even the appliances are challenging me to crack. Just like Rafe. He opens the fridge and starts rummaging inside, pulling out random items and slamming them onto the marble countertop. Bread. A wheel of cheese. Some kind of meat I don’t recognize.
“You look hungry,” he says.
I am unimpressed.
“You look... like you.”
“Smart-ass,” he says, almost grinning, but not quite.
“Yeah, but can you handle it?”
I raise my eyebrows and bite my lip.
He laughs this time, a short, sharp sound.
I feel it in my stomach, a jolt. But I play it cool, act like I’m totally unaffected by the way he owns this space, like he owns everything else.
“What are you doing?” I ask,
“Feeding you.”
“Oh, so now you care.”
“Yeah,” he says, turning to me with a piece of salami or prosciutto or whatever the hell it is. “Now I care.”
My mouth quirks up at the corner, but I’m still mad at him, still raw from the way he ripped me open and then shut me down.
“Good to know you have priorities.”
