Chapter Fifteen

I Walk Alone

Rafe

I stand in the place that held a dead body I delivered to the Hernandez house not so long ago. Not so much as a stain besmirches the ground, but that doesn't mean I can't feel the shade that haunts the place where I dumped a body to see my wife.

Willow halts before me, her hands twisting at her front. I can't see the motion, but her shoulders move. I cup my hands gently around the shape of her in a steadying gesture. I wonder for a second that she won't find a hidden blade and slice my throat with the thing. We've gone from lustful strangers, to enforcer and prisoner, to this awkward peace that doesn't ring true for either of us.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way. There's never been a middle ground for us.

That I could take it all back, give her the wedding of her dreams, save her the scars she wears … but then, I wouldn't be able to support this fighter of a woman who knows her place in the world—on top of everyone in it.

And despite our fights, I'll kill anyone who challenges her.

That's the relationship we have, our love language, whether she recognizes it or not. I'll continue to fight for her even if she gives up one day, though I can't see that happening.

Willow sucks in a long breath as I inhale her warmth, her closeness. By all that's unholy, I fucking love this woman. I close my mouth around the slope of her shoulder, sucking her pale skin and marking her, the fact we stand in the middle of the street with absolutely no fucking protection whatsoever be damned.

One arm curves around her stomach and I press a hand there, hoping she's as knocked up as my sister. The thought of seeing her swollen with our child does something insane to my insides, and I suck on a different patch of skin, marking her a second time while she stares at the imposing building, her head held high.

"Can you wait until we're in private, Rafe? I have to work with the men in there peering from the windows like little old biddies who haven't been out enough." Her words are harsh, but her voice trembles and I know she's hard-up as I am for her.

A laugh breaks free from my lips. "You know the last time I was inside this shitful building, my father died before my eyes?"

Her body tenses, but she reaches back, curving a hand around my neck and pulling me closer because I, like every man in the vicinity, serve her. "No. The last time you were here you held me in your arms, you kissed me like you loved me, and you brought me home. Do you still love me, Rafe?"

I blink, and cover the slip by licking her skin leisurely. "Fucking forever, Willow. There is no one else."

Her smile lights up the darkened facade before us, though I can only see her reflection in the darkly tinted windows. "Good. If you said anything else I would have killed you where you stand."

I collect my jaw from the pavement, follow her into the house—her uncle's house where he ostensibly abused the fuck out of her—already reaching for her waist, needy and slightly desperate to have my wife in my arms.

"Good to know," I murmur in her wake, trailing my fingers along the material at her spine.

She pivots at the threshold, her long black hair swaying like an encore's curtain. "Are you going to tell me where Roman is?"

I swallow. Shit. This wasn't a conversation I needed to have on enemy territory, and until she consolidated her uncle's men, I stood on unhallowed ground, at least for a Gallo. Or unless I consolidated them for her.

There's a fast track to the top of her forever hated list.

I rock back on my heels. "He's back home, where you can see him anytime. We've been getting to know each other, and he chose his own room, though it's right at the end of the hall. I suspect he likes the view there best." And being the fuck away from me. I give her an easy smile. "Wanna go have a chat, Willow? I can wait here if you have family business and don't want me in there with you."

My wife specifically asked for my assistance. It might be a dick move withdrawing that support, but it almost one hundred percent ensures I'll walk through that doorway with her. She glares at me.

Manipulating my wife isn't what I had in mind.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I must see inside the house, note who is in there. The vibe. Who I need to kill to keep my woman safe. Fuck it. Maybe I should have brought Diego with us.

"I love that dress. Can I tear it off you later?" I change the subject, tipping my head back and studying the high-arched ceiling with its bare bones, and miss her reaction by design.

Dick move number one hundred and three.

"Are we there yet?" she asks softly, and I swing my attention back to her.

"We are, if you feel safe with me. I never haven't wanted you since that night in Cyprus." I squeeze her waist, letting a little of my true need to throw her over the nearest furniture and fuck her leak out. Her tiny squeak gives me the answer that calms my fury, if only for a moment. "I never did get a tour, but I'd like to meet your people. And maybe a look around after, see what changes you want to make?" I step into her space, holding her jade-green eyes, and trail my knuckles along her arm.

Her sharp inhale is an admission of attraction I savor for later, gesturing her into the large room I spot beyond this one. "Is this a good space?"

"Good enough." Her mouth forms Diego's name, but she doesn't make it any further than that before she shuts down and strides to the doorway across the parquet flooring, grabbing the nearest loiterer. A few quick words and the boy runs off.

I nod my approval, so fucking close to opening my arms to wrap them around her, but here I can't. Because here, Willow is King, not me. I have to play by her rules. Here, I'm the subservient husband, supporting the woman who queens my entire world.

Here, I am less.

The position sits uncomfortably on my shoulders but for her, I will bear it.

Footsteps hurry in as I retreat, stepping behind her and slightly to the side. That way Willow stands alone amongst her men, and a few women, possibly household members, though a redhead at the back caught my attention, dressed in what looks like blue leather and strapped with more knives than Luca possesses. She's one to watch.

The rest are armed to the teeth too, though not quite as ostentatiously as the redhead. My lips quirk. Maybe I should hire her as a bodyguard for Roman. The thought flitters from my mind as Willow straightens infinitesimally and begins her talk.

"There have been plenty of rumors, and my first weeks in this house without my uncle's overbearing presence have been … turbulent, to say the least." She pauses, the corner of her lips flickering in her stunning profile, and a few appreciative chuckles reverberate around the room. "I won't be here full time, because I also need to support my husband." She waves a hand back toward me.

Twenty pairs of eyes shift in my direction, most in various states of panic. I memorize their faces, the truly alarmed ones, knowing we will likely be having a quiet conversation in my basement at some future point.

"Hi." I wave genially, and more than a few titters echo back at me.

Ice broken.

Willow huffs. "He's quite eccentric. Ignore him. You aren't going to be under my leadership. While responsibility technically falls to me, the groundwork we do now together is for my brother. Many of you will remember Roman, and for the newcomers, he's currently a traumatized kid but he won't be for much longer. Under our tutelage…" She gestures between herself and me. A warm spot develops in my chest. "He will be as formidable as Rafe, and at least as nuts as me. I do need a specific team to take on cleaning house on his behalf. Diego is not dead, though some of you might have thought so, and will be returning in a few weeks once his doctor releases him from care. He will be a part of this team." She glances around and points at the leather-clad redhead. "I'd like Sonja to be part of Roman's security. I need at least two others."

A small murmur arose the moment she stopped talking. Two men step forward, identical twins from the looks of them. The only distinguishing feature between them is a small mole on the left man's cheek.

"We will," he says in the deep voice of a singer. His eyes flicker to hold mine unflinchingly. "If need be we will also swear allegiance to the Gallos." His brother nods, his expression the epitome of bored, and my eyes narrow.

"Ettore and Clio Carozza. We can talk later." She breaks character, glancing back at me.

I slide my hands into my pockets and give her a subtle nod neither of the twins miss. A conversation with her without them present is definitely in the works.

Willow gifts me a pretty smile and turns away. "I'm happy to field concerns now, but if you want to speak to either of us I'll be in my Un—" She clears her throat. "My office in about an hour." Her fingers flex and I know I'm getting that tour I begged for.

Silence falls in an uncomfortable blanket but I'm proud of her for speaking out, organizing her people, and grateful she's willing to include me in Roman's care team. As damaged as the boy is, he will need all the help in maintaining his own security and learning to lead, but I am fast developing a soft spot for the child who doesn't seem to cower under any but the most violent circumstances.

A good team will defend him from those until he's mentally prepared to take the burden on. If he can't … a bridge to cross another time, perhaps.

Willow dismisses her people and turns back to me as they all file out. Her shoulders drop slightly and her eyes drift shut. "Where did I fuck up?"

I startle and spring on my toes, walking toward her with long, steady strides so she can hear me coming. "Perfect. What you just did was solid work, Willow. I know you haven't been trained in this, but you did well." I swallow. "I'm grateful you included me in Roman's team, and that you let me back you."

She cracks an eyelid, squinting cutely at me. "Okay, there's so much wrong there. One, did you just say thank you? And two, why the fuck would I not want my sadistic, controlling husband behind me? Your support gives oomph to every word I just said. And I'll do anything to ensure Roman is safe," she adds in a whisper.

I cup her cheeks, rubbing my thumbs back and forth over her bottom lip until she sighs, then slowly, ensuring she has time to break free if she needs, I press my mouth to hers in a gentle kiss that sucks all the air out of my lungs and the room.

Her soft sigh surges blood south until I rock on my feet and pull her to me a little rougher. "You promised me a tour, Wife. Why don't we start with your favorite room in the house?"

She gazes back at me with glowing eyes, raising her fingers to her lips. After a second's reprieve she drops them and tangles her fingers in mine. "I know the perfect place," she breathes.

A giant grin I don't bother to hide stretches my face as she tows me from the room. For once, I follow instead of lead.

And she gives me a damn good view.