Page 200 of Vicious Intentions
“Fuck. Raffaele. Whatever happened to calling me Rafe?” he jokes, stepping beside me, but his lightheartedness does very little to calm my nerves.
“I’m not in the mood for your jokes, Rafe,” I reply coldly.
“I can see that.” He frowns. “We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk lately, and I just wanted to check on you.”
“How do you think I’ve been?” I turn to face him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the sky is falling around us, Rafe. The whole world is burning down, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing.” My throat tightens. “All I do, day after day, is stand in front of this window praying the people I love don’t die. Thatmy brothers and sister don’t get themselves killed trying to save me. That Matteo…” My voice catches around his name. “That the man I love comes home to me alive.”
“Oh, I’ve been paying attention, Anna,” he scowls. “Or did you forget that I’m the one down on those streets killing your father’s men before they get the chance to put me in the ground?” His jaw tightens. “Oh, I’ve been paying attentionplenty. The only difference is that when I come home, I don’t have a soft bed and a loving wife waiting to help me forget about all the blood I spilled in their name. Maybe if I did, I’d be willing to watch the world burn too. Maybe if I got to sink my dick into your wet pussy every night—”
I slap him before he can finish.
The sound cracks through the room so sharply it startles even me.
Raffaele slowly rubs his cheek, his steel-blue eyes darkening into something dangerous.
“I always knew you were weak. But to fall for my brother’s lies… to let him into your bed…”
“Careful, Raffaele. Be very careful about what you say next,” I warn coldly. “You might have once been my best friend, but that does not give you permission to speak badly about my husband. Your brother, if you need the reminder.”
“Oh, I don’t need the reminder. I know exactly who Matteo is.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one looking at him through rose-colored glasses. Not me.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea what Matteo had to do to protect you.”
“Protect me?” His brows shoot toward his hairline. “What, did he tell you the same sob story about our stepmother being cruel to him too? About how she was supposedly about to set my crib on fire with me inside it, and brave little Matteo came to the rescue?” His expression twists with disgust. “Yeah, I heard thosestories too. I even believed them at first. But then I remembered Matteo has always known exactly what to say to get people on his side.” His gaze sharpens on mine. “He got you in the end, didn’t he?”
I stare at him, mouth agape, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “When did you become so bitter, Rafe? When did you become so angry at the world and let it consume you?”
“When my own brother married the only woman I ever loved,” he snarls. “That’s when.”
I swallow hard and take a small step back. It isn’t his confession that frightens me. It’s the manic look in his eyes. There’s nothing left of the carefree boy who used to be my friend. Absolutely nothing.
“Is this an exclusive conversation, or can anyone join in?” Matteo drawls from the doorway, instantly pulling both our attention toward him.
“You’re home,” I breathe, relief flooding through me as I rush toward him.
Matteo’s eyes never leave Raffaele’s face.
The moment I’m close enough, Matteo slides an arm around my waist and pulls me firmly against his side before kissing me slow and deep, so sweetly tender it makes my toes curl.
“I knew you wanted to go to church tonight,” he murmurs against my lips. “So I made sure to wrap things up early.”
He says it so casually that, for a second, he almost sounds like a man coming home from a normal nine-to-five job instead of whatever horrors his work actually entails. I’m not entirely sure what wrapping things up early means in Matteo’s world, but it’s the thought behind it that matters.
“Must be nice being the boss,” Raffaele mutters, making sure we remember he’s still standing there.
“It is,” Matteo replies smoothly, his gaze still fixed on mine.
We both hear Raffaele mutter a curse under his breath before storming out of the living room.
The second he’s gone, my shoulders sag with exhaustion, and I melt into my husband’s chest, needing the comfort of his arms around me.
“Should I be worried about my brother?” Matteo asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
A burning yes lodges itself in my throat. There was something deeply unsettling in Raffaele’s eyes tonight, something wild and fractured. But Matteo already carries the weight of an entire war on his shoulders. He doesn’t need this burden too.
If whatever darkness I saw in Raffaele comes to pass, then I’ll deal with it when the time comes.
“No,” I murmur. “You don’t have to worry about him. I can handle Raffaele.”
