Chapter Seventeen

A Guard Down

Rafe

Blood stains my rug. Willow is back home. Diego has been patched up and evicted—nicely. I'm not that sort of asshole. Can't say the same for Dom who drew a bead on the man's back as he limped away. Even Regina has settled somewhat.

The surprising outlier to my peace is Roman.

He alone seems uncomfortable with heading back to the Hernandez house, not that I blame him. Initially, I thought it was Willow he sought out, but after finding him in almost every one of my meetings and eating beside him for a week it finally clicked. The person he's clinging to is … me.

Not a position I'm used to, but the silent boy intrigues me as much as apparently I do him.

"He's looking for a mentor," Dom grunts. I watch the boy depart my study after a particularly nasty negotiation involving a one-way exchange of body fluids. Or maybe an offering, because that's what taking down the Hennie's man felt like. A test, to see if I was capable of holding my own against whatever Konnor threw at me.

Today will not be the last, nor will it be one-sided. Because I deported the body to his mother's front gate in Ireland. By the time it lands, that stink will stick to Konnor, and my brand of conviction would not be questioned.

Ball is in your court, my friend.

If only for a brief time.

Roman watches the whole debacle with avid eyes, drinking in not only the actions but the subtext that lay beneath.

I roll my shoulders. "The boy needs an education."

"He's getting one." Dom cants his head, trailing his gaze along the flooring. "That rug has to go."

"Burn it." I pull a formal-looking folder in creams and blues out of my drawer and slap it on my desk.

Dom stalls, studying the child with a fake smile wearing a boater hat depicted on the front. "The fuck is that?"

"His education."

Laughter booms around me as I sit back and lace my fingers over my stomach. "When you're done."

My best friend stares at me. "You look like your father."

Silence fills the room as neither of us back down. So much has changed since Dom walked into my section of this gritty, filthy world a decade ago. Then, we were two youngbloods proving ourselves. Now? There is far more at stake.

"I attended St. Leonard's. I made friends there, including Konnor. Perhaps Roman can spend his senior years learning how to build a network there."

"Don't throw my brother into a boarding school just because he annoys you." Willow appeared in the doorway, one hand propped on her hip. "The best way he can learn to rule is from you, Rafe. You are the best." Her fierce expression doesn't change an iota.

Her long, black hair hangs down her back, curling around her wrists, a stark contrast to the cream silk jumpsuit.

"His ego didn't need that," Dom growls, bending at the waist. He whistles and the young scallion, Charlie without known family, who picked Konnor's pocket, scampers into the room, positioning himself at the other end of the rug as Dom starts to roll.

"And I don't need another set of ears in my office," I reply dryly.

"Charlie, who would you pick to mentor you in this life?" Willow asks suddenly.

The kid eyes her like she's offering a sweet and has a cleaver behind her back. Knowing my wife, that's a distinct possibility.

"You want the truth, or wrong answers only?" he pipes up, his cheeky gaze shifting to me.

The corners of my mouth flicker, but I hold myself still. "If you have a death wish…"

Willow shifts at the doorway, her sinuous body displaying her discontent, but we can talk about that later. In our bedroom, or beneath the stars, perhaps.

"Him." Charlie jerks his head toward Dom, and gets back to work.

Apparently good theater can't buy his love. And I did ask for the truth, after all. Charlie is of an age with another boy I know. An idea that had been floating around in my mind in fragments solidifies.

"Kudos to you, big man. Should I perhaps have you tutor Roman, along with your new … friend?" I gesture to Willow, turning my palm up on the desk and rolling my fingers toward me.

Her gaze flickers between me and the rug beaters on my floor before she saunters my way. The display is all for me, her hips sashaying in an exaggerated motion that leaves me lightheaded and I know she's only doing what I ask because she wants to.

"You're both fucking insane," Dom mutters. "One, two—" They heft the bleeding rug, and walk it out of my office without another word.

"Probably," I murmur, pushing my chair out from my desk, my legs spread. "Sit. Please." I meet her gaze, unwavering.

Willow tips her head to one side, grazing her eyes over me. "What do you want?"

She settles on my knee daintily, but I need more than that after wiping another man's blood from my face.

My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her sharply into my chest so she slouches between my legs and I'm looking down at her, rather than the other way around. Her delicious fucking rump wriggles against me, and I smack her with an open palm.

"Cute, Willow, but you're not distracting me. Yet."

I rub the swell of her ass with my stinging palm. That one hurt both of us, and though I doled out her punishment the night she returned to me and made her new promises at her house—mine being her only home, I won't have it any other way—I'll be spanking the sass out of her for the next decade.

"I'm sexy, not cute." She pouts, wiggling closer to lie her body against mine and finds my mouth with hers. "And I need you."

Sinking my hand into her luscious, raven-black mane, I rest my forehead against hers. "We're a volatile mix, you and me," I murmur. "Thank fuck I can trust you. I'll ask Luca to prepare the rooftop for tonight's dinner, if that's what you want, but first I want to talk to you about two things."

"Sounds delicious," she all but purrs into my mouth.

Fuck, I can't wait to taste her. I'll never get enough of her.

"But…"

"But you keep needing things. The pressure, Rafe." She pouts again, and a soft giggle breaks from her lips.

I kiss her hard, dominating her mouth with my tongue and shattering the cute little sound that leaves me aching to fill her with my seed, see her body round with our child. It's become an obsession since I got her back, wanting her pregnant, and to treat her like the queen she is.

"Okay," she murmurs when I draw back.

I smile wickedly, squeezing her ass. "Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?"

"Nope."

A deep laugh builds within me. "Fuck, I love you." I rearrange her so we're face-to-face, staring into each other's eyes. "I need to know if you will let your blue leather assassin teach Roman how to defend himself hand to hand, and other weapons. Yourself, too, apart from guns as needed. I'll supervise."

She rolls her eyes. The only person in the world who would dare. Somehow, that makes me love her more. "Of course you do."

"Hush, or you'll get your spanking now instead of later, and dinner will hurt."

"Promise?" She nips my bottom lip, fluttering her eyelashes.

I slam my hand down on her ass and the cry that breaks from her perfect, kiss-swollen lips nearly makes me come in my pants.

"One," I murmur.

"Ow," she whispers, unshed tears glistening her eyes. "Okay, I'm listening. I'm s-sorry."

I narrow my gaze. "Faker."

She throws a billion-watt smile my way and rocks her cunt right up against my cock. "You got me. The other thing?"

A second laugh rumbles in my chest but I push it aside. She won't like this one.

"Tell me everything you heard and everyone you saw in Konnor's house."

Willow stares at me, her mouth open. I close it gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, and settle back to wait.

As long as it takes.

****

Charlie darts past me down the hall, nearly bowling me over.

"Whoa, horsie," I tease, gripping his shoulder and spinning him in a circle, using his own momentum to put him on the ground. "No running in my house."

"Yes, Boss," he pants, but his eyes slide past me.

I frown and tap his cheek as I help him to his feet. "Who are you looking for?"

"Uh, Dom?" he offers weakly.

My frown deepens. The Charlie I know picks pockets and dangles his feet in the deep end with my most dangerous enemies. This lie doesn't have enough glue to stick a paper plane together.

"Charlie?" My voice holds an edge of warning.

Fortunately, he's on the ball and I don't have to ask twice.

"A woman in blue leather stole Roman," he blurts, his face reddening. "I'm going to tell Dom but I guess you'll do."

If the whole situation hadn't been so critical, I would have laughed in his face at that last comment.

"A lady in blue. Stole … Roman." I get the impression that is another boy with secrets, but I'll never discover any of them if I don't get my ass into gear and secure my own damn home. "She broke in." Blue. A lady in leather. Sonja.

Have I misjudged her? My hand dived for my phone but Charlie waves his hands.

"Roman was happy to go with her."

I stopped. "Was he?"

"Uh-huh." Charlie revs into gear like an old sports car ready for its final run. "She had a flyer in her hand. Some fancy building or other. Something something shit hot academy." He shrugs.

"Olsen Academy." The corners of my mouth lift. "Did she see you?"

Charlie's flush deepens. "Yes, sir."

"Hmm. Did she say anything?"

"She said she'll call you?" he offers, taking a step back. "I like breathing. And working for Dom," he adds, like a teen's afterthought, the words running in the wrong order through his head and out his mouth.

"I see. Well, Dom seems to like you too. And I think you're a good addition to my household. If you'd like to stay, then I require something from you."

"Anything." His eager eyes reflected a hopeful youth, the sort I've never been under my father's tutelage.

"Silence." I lean forward until my nose brushes the tip of his.

Charlie dances on his toes, but he manages not to make a sound.

"Good. That's a start. Tell no one about S—the lady and Roman. I will deal with this myself. Is that clear?"

"No one?" He jiggles on the plush carpet.

"No one."

"Not even Dom?"

"Especially not Dom." I bet he lasts an hour, no more. I won't punish the boy, only train him. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Okay." His flush lightens and I file that little tell from the lying boy away.

"Good. Off you go." I watch him traipse down the hall and disappear straight into Dom's room, holding back a laugh.

Okay, so an hour clearly is expecting too much.

Shaking my head I pull out my phone and check the first message from an unknown number, though it's not hard to guess who it's from.

Sonja: Roman is safe. I'll tell you when he's in the school. Lady Sonja.

I smile and type back quickly.

Rafe: Thank you, Sonja. Ensure he has all he needs. My account will be on record.

Sonja: Will do.

And just like that, Roman's education and security, perhaps even a fresh future for the boy, is sorted. I tuck my phone into my pocket and hold myself still, considering. His security only remains so if his whereabouts stay unknown. Which means keeping his location a secret from all parties. Already, Charlie has an idea, and Sonja, though I worry less about the formidable redhead with every minute. Dom emerges from his room and strides slowly toward me, his face dark and fixed.

Fine, four people know of Roman's location. And it's staying that way. Willow can't know, because she'll move heaven and earth to see him and that will tip off all those watching us.

And there are many eyes on this house.

I don't need to punish Charlie as Dom will on my behalf, and the experience will be more powerful coming from someone he respects more than from me.

I wonder, between Willow, Dom, and myself, who wears the pants.

****

Willow has tenacity. That reach extends to both her mind and her body apparently, because when she sits to dinner, she winces twice.

"That really hurts, Rafe," she whimpers. Her eyes fill with the crocodile tears I've become immune to, though they're no less sweet for the effect.

Luca, serving one of my family's favorites, alfalfa and fried haloumi with assorted sides, has not had the pleasure. His discontent rumbles and I throw a hard look at them both.

And now he's blaming me for taking a hand to her.

"Willow? You're upsetting my chef."

She glances up at him, notes the protective thunderheads gathering across his face, and blinds him with that cheeky-as-fuck smile like she did with me earlier. "I asked for it."

"No woman should be forced to say that," Luca's voice holds a warning note I've never heard aimed at me before.

I recline in my chair and wait for her to fix the fuckup she's created.

"No, really." She bites her lip, and darts a glance across at me, seeking permission.

I shrug. "If you want to give my chef a raging boner, you're welcome to. As long as he helps clean up the next body that requires slashing."

"Always at your service, Rafe." Luca folds his arms over his chest before my wife has a chance to answer him. "Willow?"

"Well…" Willow starts to rise and bends over the table so far her tits are nearly in my entrée. "I was playing a game. He wanted information, and I wanted to see what he'd do to get it out of me." She wiggles her rump—that must be fucking glowing red beneath her clothes—enticingly in his direction.

"I see." Luca's face is closed, and his gaze drifts back to me as he raises his eyebrow. "What were the stakes?"

"Layout of everything she saw at Konnor's, people and information, or her ass, anyway I saw fit." I turn my palm over on the table. Though it no longer smarts, I feel every single blow in my shoulder still.

And by all the gods who hate me, did I love the sounds of her moans with each swat.

"Hmm. Were you disobedient, my Don's wife?" He shifts to stand beside her, putting Willow at a distinct disadvantage. Now, she can either look across the table at nothing like an object we discuss, face me, or stare at Luca's crotch.

I don't smile in case she sees our game, but nod to show I appreciate the maneuver.

"I wanted to play with him," Willow whispers, her voice soft, but even so it comes out tinnily. Her chest puffs with short, shallow breaths. "I'm sorry."

"Did you thank him when you lost?" He doesn't look at me this time.

Willow's face reddens, and her swaying stops. "No."

"Before you eat the food he provides for you, don't you think you should?" He touches the tip of her chin with his knuckle—I'd allow nothing more and he knows it—raising her face to focus on him.

"Y-yes." Her voice is slightly stronger, recognizing the power play, and sinking into her role.

"Good girl," he praises her, tapping the tip of her nose with the same knuckle. She looks uncertainly between us as he takes a single step back. "What are you waiting for, my Don's wife? I will not hinder you in your task." He manages to hold back his humor—just.

My chef managed to make us all aroused, turning the tables away from what I had in mind when she launched into the next phase of her cute little game, but this round has backfired on her.

Willow straightens, tugging at the material at her waist, and walks toward me in dainty steps, throwing a cautious glance between Luca and me.

"It's all right," I murmur, reaching up to cup her chin, drawing her closer to me. "You should do as he asks."

I hold her gaze, interested to see if she'll fight me, but taking in a long breath, Willow lets it out and sinks between my thighs, reaching for my belt. Seconds later, her mouth is wrapped around my cock while I struggle not to fist her hair and fuck her face.

The urge is so fucking strong, but this is her apology, of sorts, and with Luca watching, I won't degrade her.

Much.

Clinging to my resolve, I brush my fingers through her hair. "Do you remember I fucked your mouth in our bedroom after the first dinner with my father?" I asked, touching her cheeks gently.

She murmurs something, the hum low in her throat almost setting me off.

"Answer when your husband speaks to you," Luca admonishes her, dark amusement written across his face.

Kinky fucker.

I know he adores my wife almost as much as I do, but any man loves seeing a beautiful woman give pleasure. There's something animalistic about the act, and Willow doesn't—will never—disappoint.

"I'm sorry," she gasps around the head of my cock. "I … Rafe…" Dark hues suffuse her face.

I laugh, realizing how close she is to coming. "Yes, we had fun that day too. Come before I do, and you can show Chef your marks."

She moans at that, and I wonder if the scenario will set her off. Her tongue drags across my balls and I groan with her.

Her body starts to shake, but I can't hold back, too aroused still from our earlier play session where she teased me to the nth degree of my control. My hips jerking, I come down her throat to the stunning hums of her own orgasm.

Luca stands behind her, his arms folded, a dark glitter in his eyes as he watches her. "Thank him."

"Thank you, Husband," she said formally. Willow rocks back on her heels, her hands cupped demurely in her lap and looks up at me, her expression guileless and without games, if only for once.

"You're so beautiful." I trace her lips with the pad of my thumb, tucking a tiny white pearl drop on the corner of her lips inside her mouth, sighing as she sucks on my thumb and tidies my pants. "Thank Chef for his intervention of your … behavior."

Bad doesn't come close to covering it, but damn if she's not perfect.

"Thank you, Luca," she whispers, looking up at him through her lashes.

The enormous man allows her a fraction of a smile before he turns on his heel and leaves us.

Willow shuffles around, straightening her clothes and pressing her legs together. I shake my head.

"Knees apart, wife," I murmur, cutting into my haloumi.

"Yes, Rafe." Her eyes cast down, pink spots on her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispers.

"That might have been my favorite part of the night so far," I muse. "Did you like it?"

She nods, glancing up at me with a broad smile. "Fuck, yes."

I laugh, a streak of pure joy that lasts a full breath before Seamus Cunningham walks onto the rooftop terrace of my home, a blood-covered Dom puffing in his wake.

"Fuck me." I glare at Cunningham, reaching out for Willow's hand.

She sets a trembling one in mine. I frown, looking down at her shaking fingers, but Cunningham beats me to it.

"Do you want to tell him, or shall I?"

The smug bastard twirls one of my own fucking roses under his nose and sniffs it.