Page 187 of Rosetti Family New York
She looks at me for a long time, her stare never wavering, daring me to fight her on this. The fact is I’ve already taken over. But she doesn’t need another fight right now, not when she’s barely come up for air from that asshole at the bar. I’ve pushed too hard, and I can already see her digging in. I’ve been living by my rules for so long, I almost forgot what it’s like to let someone else have a say.
“Fine,” I say, the word ripping out. “But don’t go off half-cocked without me.”
She grins, triumphant, and I know I’ve just lost this round. She shifts on the sofa, closing the red space between us.
“So,” she says, and her knee bumps into mine. “What’s the plan?”
“We get Ethan. But not until I say it’s safe.” I hold her gaze, make sure she’s hearing me. “You need to promise you won’t go after him on your own.”
Her eyes flash up to mine, a little pissed, a little teasing. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Sloane.”
“Okay, okay, I promise. But you can’t follow me everywhere.”
“Try me.”
She rolls her eyes but looks pleased. I want to lean forward and kiss the smile off her face. I want to pin her down and see what other promises I can make her keep. Instead, I stay where I am, working at the leather gloves on my hands.
“As long as you promise I can be there when you do,” she says.
She smiles, and it’s the kind that could make a man crazy.
I shake my head, trying to look annoyed.
“I’ll think about it.”
We fall into a silence that isn’t awkward or heavy, and I don’t know how that’s even possible with everything we’re up against. Her hand brushes mine, casual like it’s not doing a number on me. But it is. More than she knows.
She moves back a bit, suddenly looking unsure of herself. “I guess you should probably go.” She hesitates, a nervous laugh in her voice. “Unless you want to stay the night.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “On the couch, I mean.”
I watch her, taking in every single detail. The bruise on her wrist. The blood on her cheek. The goddamn everything about her, setting off fireworks in my brain. I’m tempted. I’m really fucking tempted. I should leave, get out of here before I do something we’ll both regret, but I can’t stop staring. She looks sexy splashed in someone else’s blood. Sitting in her apartment, tough as nails and soft as a fucking feather.
I drag my gaze away and let it fall on the things in the room instead. The scuffed floors, the stack of mismatched textbooks, and the potted plants. The place is more lived in than I am. I know I should leave, get myself out of this before I do something we’ll both regret, but I can’t.
I watch her again, burning the sight of her into my head.
A lot of guys would see a girl in bloody clothes and think she’s in over her head. To me, it’s a different story. The bruise, the blood, the peas clutched in her hand, it’s like she’s asking for more trouble than she already has. Like she’s made of fucking steel, and I’m the one who’s going weak.
She tilts her head, waiting, and I swear she knows what’s going through my mind. I should leave, but maybe this time I'm not strong enough.
“Rafe?” she asks, the sound of my name snapping me back.
But I know better. “I should go,” I tell her.
“Goodnight, Rafe,” she says softly.
Her voice follows me out the door, and I’m almost stupid enough to go back.
Instead, I sit in my car and settle down, watching her window. Even a force of nature like Sloane needs protection.
The snow starts to fall again. Tiny flecks against the windshield. I watch her light go off through the window. I should be planning my next move, but all I can think about is the way she looked when I walked out. Like I’m the answer to every question she’s ever asked.
This thing between us? It’s gonna be trouble. And that’s the one thing I know I’m good at handling.
12
Rafaele
