Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Call him,” he tells me without looking up.
But I don’t get a chance to because the sound of men’s raised voices coming from the front entrance of the house has us both up. Has Stefan drawing a weapon from a desk drawer as he pushes me behind him.
“Stay,” he commands, and opens the study door.
The moment he does, I hear a curse, a grunt, followed by more yelling and footsteps and a moment later, Rafa appears at the open study door where Stefan stands waiting, each man with a weapon in hand. Each looking as murderous as the other.
30
Stefan
“You love me like a fucking brother, but I have to fight my fucking way in?” Rafa roars. He stumbles when he comes toward me.
I catch him, right him, uncock my gun, and shove it into the back waistband of my jeans.
“What are you doing here, Rafa?”
He looks at me, looks beyond me and into the study.
Gabriela steps beside me and I watch his gaze follow her.
“I wanted a drink,” Rafa says finally.
“Looks to me like you’ve had plenty to drink already. Give me that.” I gesture to the pistol in his hand.
He looks down at it like he forgot it was there. A moment later, he shoves it into the back of his jeans and walks past me into the study. He pours himself two fingers of whiskey and swallows it at once before refilling his glass and dropping down into a seat on the couch. His movement is so clumsy that some of the whiskey splashes over his hand.
“Go upstairs, Gabriela,” I tell her without turning around.
“Not until I know my bro—”
“Now.” I look at her and give a subtle shake of my head.
She looks from me to Rafa.
“I said go. Now,” I repeat.
“Let her stay,” Rafa says.
I turn to him. “Give me your gun, Rafa.”
“Why? What do you think I’m going to do?”
“You’re drunk. You just barged into my house drunk and brandishing a gun.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Give me your gun. I won’t ask again.”
He stands, reaches back.
I step in front of Gabriela and I’m pretty sure he notices because he gives a shake of his head, pulls the gun out of its place and sets it on the corner of my desk. I pick it up, take the cartridge out and shove it in my pocket.
“Satisfied?” he asks.
“Why are you here?”
“Because Clara snores,” he says with a chuckle as he downs his next glass of whiskey. “But you know that.”
I don’t turn to Gabriela but wait for Rafa to pour himself yet another glass before facing me.
He studies me, then Gabriela. He cocks his head to the side as he sips his drink.
I shift my gaze to Gabriela. “Go upstairs,” I tell her again.
“I said let her stay,” Rafa intervenes.
“But you don’t give the orders,” I remind him.
“Maybe I should,” he counters, taking a step toward me.
I take one to match his. “Be careful, cousin.”
He snorts, looks again to Gabriela, lets his gaze roam over her.
“That’s my wife,” I remind him.
“You used to be more generous.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Rafa meets my gaze head on. “It means you used to share.” He shifts his gaze to her and when he takes a step toward her, something primitive inside me takes over. Rage boils in my gut.
Mine.
It’s the single thought in my mind.
“You’re getting soft, Stef,” Rafa says. “She’s making you soft. Weak.” He lifts his hand and I make fists with mine as my entire body vibrates with energy.
When he runs the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, Gabriela’s arm comes flying to slap his face, but he catches her wrist in the same instant I catch his.
“Remove. Your. Hand.” My voice is low, calm, opposite the rage burning inside me.
“You should share her,” Rafa says.
“And you should know better.”
But he’s drunk.
“Like we used to. Then we’ll be like brothers again.”
“Remove your hand or I’ll break it.”
Rafa looks at me, searches my face and something overrides his drunken, reckless stupidity because he lets her go. “No doubt,” he says.
I see his handprint on her soft flesh, see how small her wrist is, know how easily it can be broken. How easily men like us can break her.
“Lucas.” I haven’t yet let go of Rafa’s arm and I don’t raise my voice because Lucas is standing just outside the door.
“Sir.” He’s got his eyes on Rafa, one hand on the butt of his pistol in its holster underneath his jacket.
“Take my wife upstairs and make sure she stays there.”
“I don’t want—”
I turn to Gabriela. “I don’t care what you want. Take your phone and make that call while I talk with my cousin.”
“Mrs. Sabbioni,” Lucas says, standing beside us.
Gabriela gives Rafa one more hard look, grabs her phone and exits the room.
Lucas closes the door.
After a moment, I release Rafa.