Evi giggles as she lets Sandro wrap an arm around her waist and steer her toward the door.
“We’ll leave you two to discuss,” he says, giving his brother a rather pointed look that makes me wonder what it is Sandro thinks Raf has to say to me.
The door closes behind them with a decisive click, and silence settles in, thick and intimate.
I’m still standing too close to Raf, and I force myself to take a step back, but his voice catches me, and my heart skips a beat when he rises smoothly to his feet.
“You were actually worried about me, weren’t you?” His eyes glint with amusement as he takes a step closer.
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Don’t get carried away.”
His eyebrows quirk in silent challenge. “Come on, Aisling. You burst into the room like I’d been run through.”
“Because from the way my brothers made it sound, you nearly were,” I shoot back. “I don’t enjoy being caught off guard.”
Something softens in his expression, but his tone is still playful as he keeps on goading me. “It warms my heart to know my wife cares so deeply.” He’s never going to let me live this down.
I huff derisively. “Care is a strong word, but… just because our marriage is fake doesn’t mean I want you dead.”
“No?” Raf teases, taking another step closer. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you want—or has that changed?”
Oh, God, he’s right. There was a time in life I definitely would have considered his head in a box the perfect present, but now… I don’t know what I want. “Yeah, well, no one gets to kill you but me. Besides, I don’t want you dying before you’ve served your purpose.”
He laughs, a low, inviting sound that curls through my chest. “And what purpose is that?”
“You know exactly what,” I say sweetly. “I need you alive long enough for my family to claim what they’re owed. After that, if someone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”
His smile turns dangerous. “Ah. So possessive.”
“Practical,” I counter. “I’d hate it if someone robbed me of the satisfaction.”
Raf lifts his chin, looking down the straight edge of his nose as he studies me like I’m something fascinating and volatile. “I’ll do my best to survive,” he says. “For you.”
My pulse stutters traitorously.
I gesture to his arm, careful to keep my voice passive this time. “You’re really okay?”
His gaze dips, then returns to my face, more serious now. “I’ve lived with worse than stitches. I promise.”
I hesitate, then nod. “Good.”
He watches me for a beat longer than necessary before shifting gears. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to tell you, Commissioner Doyle’s secretary reached out. We’re invited to dinner with the commissioner and his wife.”
I inhale. “When?”
“Saturday night,” he says.
My stomach flip-flops, and I smile. “How intimate?”
“Fairly,” Raf confirms. “There should be ten of us.”
“That’ll be a great opportunity,” I acknowledge.
My father’s always said that having Commissioner Doyle in your back pocket is better than a get-out-of-jail-free card, and I know Raf has been working hard to gain his ear.
“He was close with my father,” Raf continues. “Though Leo was the one who spoke with him most recently, it shouldn’t be too hard to extend his good will to us. You and I made a good first impression at the gala, but this is where we seal the deal.”
I meet his eyes. “Then we’ll give them exactly what they want to see.”