I return my attention to the view and snuggle in further, the silence stretching as I savor the feel of him.
Eventually, he changes the subject, but we continue to talk, the hours passing too quickly. The night leads into slow kisses and even slower, more intimate sex that seems like less of a goodbye and more reminiscent of a quiet argument against the approaching dawn.
Sleep finds me well after midnight, in a tangle of limbs and scorching praise that blurs into fevered dreams.
When I wake it’s to the muted rumble of the yacht’s engine and the far-off shout of crew members. Raffael is spooned against my back, his arm draped over my waist, his face nuzzled against my shoulder.
For a moment, I pause to breathe him in, the solid warmth of his body, the devastatingly perfect fit.
I fight a groan at the sore and swollen parts of me that he ravaged mercilessly, yet heat floods my middle as soon as he shifts, the hardness of his cock grazing my ass.
“Morning,la mia rovina.” His voice is graveled from slumber, his palm splaying possessively across my abdomen. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mmm.” I nod. “How about you?”
“Perfino nel sonno hai potere su di me.”
“Translate please.” I slide my hand over his, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as he kisses my shoulder.
“Even in sleep you rule over me.”
The admission should invigorate. Scorch and indulge. Instead, it’s as if he’s reached inside my chest and grabbed my heart, squeezing the beats right out of it.
If I ruled him, we wouldn’t be parting ways this morning. We would’ve spent last night negotiating my father’s debt into some semblance of a resolution so we could stay together.
“Have you and your brothers worked out how much my father still owes?” I ask as a muffled, indistinct shout carriesin the distance. “Given the allowances for the preferential treatment?”
His arm falls lax around my waist, the chemistry fizzling. “I’d willingly forgive the financial burden, Isla. It’s the blood debt that can’t be resolved.”
“Why not?” I swallow over my drying throat, my insides tightening in time with the rising tension outside the cabin.
“Blood debts are serious business.” He pulls away as if the topic requires physical distance. “They’re handled differently.”
“Handled?”
“Overseen,” he clarifies, resting back against the headboard, face stern, body tense. “Just like banks mitigate financial debts, there are people assigned to ensure those signed in blood honor the contracted terms.”
I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Do you know who these people are?”
His expression becomes a contrary blend of stern warning and pained sympathy. “I know enough to understand these men take their job seriously.”
Men whoheobviously takes seriously, given the sudden chill emanating from him.
He watches me, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if measuring my fear. “You overheard me speaking to one of them yesterday.”
“That’s why you wanted me to stay another night?” I scoot from the mattress, taking the sheet with me. “You said it was to ensure all involved had heard my statement and were satisfied with the outcome. I thought you meant Eliseo. Or your investors. But you’re worried about these men, aren’t you?”
His features tighten, wrought with apology.
Oh, God, this runs so much deeper than I’d thought. “What will they do to me?”
He reaches out, beckoning me back to bed. “Nothing that I won’t outmatch to keep you safe.”
What does that mean? Is he talking about criminal action?
I break out in a cold sweat.
Of course it’s criminal. This agreement isn’t exactly legal, so the men involved in overseeing it wouldn’t care about the law.