Page 19 of When She Loves
“Do you think I want to starve you?”
“Maybe you want me famished as a precaution so that I won’t have the energy to run away tomorrow.”
He arches a brow. “I already know you’re not going to run away. You care too much about your sister to do that.” He leans closer, brushing the tips of his fingers over my wrist and making my skin tingle. “But if you try, I’ll catch you,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.
I swallow. That shade of blue really is something. It feels like he can see right through me.
Rafaele pulls back and waves down one of the staff.
“Get her a vegetarian meal,” he says to the young server before moving his attention back to me. “Tonight, I want you to write down a list of all of your food preferences and give it to Sabina.”
“Fine.” There’s a high likelihood Sabina will toss that list right into the trash, but whatever.
“This is your new home. I want you to be comfortable.”
I bite down on my lip. Comfortable? I’ll never be comfortable here. Why is he trying to act nice to me? This place is my new prison. It doesn’t matter how pretty it is.
A cage is still a cage, and he will always be my jailer.
CHAPTER7
CLEO
My new food arrives quickly.It’s a vegetable curry over jasmine rice, and it’s so fucking good that I inhale it in minutes. I immediately feel better.
Now, if only I could get some wine.
There’s a bottle sitting on the table right in front of me, but the servers pointedly ignored my glass. If I had to guess, I’d say Rafaele told them to keep the booze away from me.
So what if I like to indulge on occasion? I’d like to see him living with Pietra and Stefano Garzolo for nineteen years without developing a vice.
I huff out an annoyed breath and glance around the table. Two ancient nonnas are giving me the evil eye from behind their plates of steak. If I was sitting any closer, they’d probably try to spit on me.
Does Rafaele really expect me to sit through the rest of this dinner sober? He’s drinking, so what gives? The air in this palatial ballroom is suffocating enough to clog my throat. It’s like I’m being tried for a crime I didn’t commit, and his relatives are my jury.
Fuck it.
I reach for the bottle, but Rafaele beats me to it, snatching it from under my fingertips.
Frustration prickles over my skin. “Oh, come on—”
He fills my glass and tops off his own.
“Drink,” he commands.
My brows arch up. What’s this? Has he decided to take pity on me? Or maybe he can tell I need something to take the edge off or I’ll explode.
I don’t care about the opinions of other people. Never have. But normally, I wouldn’t just sit here quietly, letting their judgmental gazes skewer through me. I’d cause a scene, embarrass my parents, find a way to be sent home.
Only nowthisis my home.
I drink the entire glass in three gulps and I swear I feel a light buzz right away. Some tension leaves my neck.
Rafaele pushes his chair back and stands. “Come with me.”
My gaze slides up his huge body. He must be at least six-two. “Where?”
He opens his hand, like he wants me to take it, and doesn’t answer. His entire family is watching us, their conversations quieting. I sigh and slide my hand into his. At this point, I’d rather be anywhere but here.
