Page 49 of When She Loves
It’s a good thing Rafaele is out of the house for the next few days, coming home once I’m asleep and leaving before I wake up. I call Gem and Vale a few times to chat and use the rest of my free time to regroup.
On Friday morning, I read over my plan once again. It had seemed so well crafted initially, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know him well enough to know which buttons to press.
I scratch out the bullet point about bankrupting him. It would take me far too long given how much money he has.
Would he care if I redecorated? It appears he barely spends any time at home. I scratch that one out too.
The dog idea is worth exploring, but I’d obviously have to be the one to take care of it, so I should think about whether I’m ready for that kind of commitment.
I wander into the bathroom to brush my teeth. There’s a Post-it note on the mirror in the bathroom.
“Pick you up at 7 pm.”
It takes me a moment to clue in. I had forgotten about the dinner. I pick up my phone and send him a text.
Where are we going tonight?
His response comes a minute later.
Il Caminetto.
Il Caminetto is one of the hottest restaurants in New York right now, and the rumor is it’s funded by mob money. But it’s all hush-hush since the owner is a big-shot movie producer, and he’s the official face of the restaurant group. If I had to guess, I’d say Rafaele is one of the investors.
Is he hoping to parade me around in front of his business partners?
Apprehension tunnels through me. I hate these dog and pony shows where daughters who are nearly of age and new wives are paraded around like some shiny trophies.
Whenever Mamma brought me to something like that, I always acted like I’d been raised by wolves. Eventually, she gave up altogether.
Maybe I should try the same tactic with Rafaele.
My phone buzzes with another message.
Wear that dress you showed me.
My cheeks heat. God, he’s such a bastard. Does he want to torture me by reminding me of what happened, or does he just get off on dictating what I wear? I’m not his fucking circus monkey.
My stomach growls, so I head to the kitchen to get a snack. No need to be hungry and angry. Sabina is sitting in the breakfast nook, doing some work.
She looks up from her notebook and rakes her gaze over me. “You went shopping. Didn’t you buy something decent to wear around the house?”
She has issues. I’m wearing a pair of booty shorts and a loose T-shirt. What’s wrong with that?
I grab an apple. “Get used to it.”
“Your parents didn’t raise you right, you spoiled, rotten girl.”
I take a bite. “They’d probably agree with you.”
“Do you know what they all say about you? The don’s relatives?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me all about it.”
“They say that once Don Messero gets tired of your body, he’ll toss you away and find himself a real lady for a wife.”
For some reason, that stings, even though I know better than to care about what people say about me.
“One can hope,” I mutter. Although, I’m not sure how he’s supposed to get tired of my body if I won’t let him touch me.
