Chapter Two

Bitter Betrayal

Willow

Why the hell do people wear black to funerals? I know it's a sad occasion and that we're mourning the loss of a life but Cyprus is much too hot to be wearing black on a day like today. The sun beats down on us as we stand in the familial graveyard to lay my father-in-law, Armand Gallo, to rest for the second time since his death. We had a service in the States but his body has been transported back to Cyprus to rest with his wife and family.

My black dress clings to my back where sweat trickles along my spine. I have no idea how Rafe and Dom can stand this heat in the three-piece suits they are wearing. Rafe's sister, Regina, clings to me as her body wracks with sobs once more. Neither of his children may have been overly fond of their father, but both loved him deeply.

The casket is lowered into the dark earth. Rafe takes a handful of the moist dirt and sprinkles it across the lacquered wood before stepping aside. The men gathered follow suit while the women each throw a single white rose down the hole. Before I know it the funeral is over and we are in the back of a luxurious limousine, blasted by icy air-conditioning, being taken to the family compound here on the island.

I want nothing more than to grab Rafe's hand and drag him back to the private jet so we can head home, but I know this needs to be done. Family members, blood, and business alike, will swarm the compound to pay their last respects and to figure out where they will end up in the line of succession now that Armand is gone.

Rafe is stoic and stiff as he stares out the window at the passing scenery. I had hoped last night and this morning would help alleviate some of the tightness in my husband but it doesn't seem to have done the trick. Taking his hand in mine, I intertwine our fingers and give a gentle squeeze. His gaze finds mine and I smile softly, offering him comfort, hopefully. His nod is quick before he returns to the window but his fingers tighten around mine and I know he appreciates the small gesture.

The silence is deafening in the confined space, and although it is hotter than hell outside I breathe a sigh of relief the moment we finally reach our destination. Rafe takes his time allowing me out of the limo before pressing his hand to my lower back and escorting me into the palatial mansion Armand once called home. We haven't been here since arriving in Cyprus, Rafe electing to stay at the villa he always uses, so this is my first look at the decadent opulence of the Gallo Estate.

Upon entering the place I'm instantly transposed into an old-school mafia movie. The tiles are marble with a dual staircase running up the center, the wallpaper is embossed and flaked with golden accents. Several statues line the foyer and—I shit you not—a fucking water fountain takes pride of place. It is insane and over the top and so much Armand that I feel my eyes tearing up. I may not have known the man well, but he made a massive impact in my life and I will miss him more than words can express.

We enter a sitting area which is decorated in the same gaudy way, where Rafe leads me to a burgundy velvet couch before taking a seat beside me. To my left, Regina joins us, along with Dominic. I have found my gaze often strays to the large man, knowing what is beneath his pressed suit, but never lingering too long. Last night was fun but today I need to focus.

Mere moments after we are seated a man hurries over to bring us each a tumbler of rich amber liquid before scurrying away once more. A sniff of the contents has a smile kicking up the side of my lips. Armand's favorite cognac.

"To Armand Gallo," Rafe says gruffly, holding his glass out in front of himself.

"Armand." The three of us say together, raising our glasses and clinking them together.

"Let's get this shit over with," Rafe says. "I don't want to be here any longer than absolutely necessary."

His fingers twine with mine, resting on his lap. We wait patiently as people start to fill the room, milling about and eating the food set forth for this occasion. One by one, people approach us, paying their respects and kissing Rafe's ass. His face remains a mask of indifference while he nods in the appropriate place. Every once in a while he will gesture to Dom and the person will be escorted out of the room before returning ten or fifteen minutes later. I'm not sure what that is about but I think they might be paying actual tributes to my husband.

It's almost an hour when an older woman approaches. Rafe rises from his seat and kisses both the woman's cheeks. They speak lowly in Greek before he turns to me.

"This is my wife, Willow. Willow, this is my father's sister, Annalys." Rafe introduces us but the woman barely glances at me.

"I want to know, Raphael," she says in a sharp tone. "Why did he remain in America?"

Her English is harsh and it's clear that it's not a language she speaks often.

"You know my father followed his own mind."

"I saw him the day he left. He said he wouldn't be more than two or three days." Her frown is aimed at Rafe before she turns it on me.

"Annalys," Rafe says lowly.

"What do you know, girl?" she asks me and for a moment I am shocked.

I quickly regain my composure before stepping closer to the woman. I keep my tone soft.

"I know that Armand Gallo did what he wanted. Even in the short time I knew him, that much was clear. I know I am grateful for the time I got to spend with him. I am aware that you are grieving and that you are in pain but know this. If you cause a scene or speak to my husband with anything less than the respect he deserves, I will have you put out so fast your head will spin. Καταλαβα?νουν?"

She stares at me in shock before looking at Rafe. He doesn't turn his attention back to her, keeping it focused on the side of my face.

"He liked this one, didn't he?" Annalys asked after a tense moment of silence.

"He did," Rafe says, pride infusing his tone.

"Then it is good he spent time with her before he left us. Don't mess this up, Raphael. She's a good wife."

With those parting words she turns in a fluff of black lace before stepping to an older man and walking out, her arm hooked in his.

"Jesus wept," Dom curses from his spot, watching us closely.

Regina bursts out giggling and for the first time I survey the people surrounding us. Everyone is blatantly staring and I have no idea why.

"Excuse me," I say softly to Rafe before walking out of the gathering to look for a bathroom to hide in. I have no idea what the hell just came over me and I need a minute to pull myself together without all present scrutinizing my every move.

As the door swings closed an expensive dress shoe stops it before Rafe slips inside and locks it behind him. His hands thread through my hair as his lips crash down on mine in what is not simply a kiss but devouring.

"Fuck, wife," he murmurs against my lips when he finally pulls away.

"I don't know what I did, but if this is my reward I might do it again," I say with a smile.

"Annalys hasn't approved of any woman marrying into the Gallo family since the beginning of time, I think. You are basically a miracle."

"Because I snapped at her?"

"Because you did what she believes all good wives should do. You supported your husband blindly. Without knowing the situation or the repercussions of your choice."

"Your family is weird."

For the first time since Armand died, Rafe laughs and I feel like weeping.

"That they are, love." He prowls forward until he traps me against the wall, caging me in.

"What are you doing, Rafe?" I ask in a husky tone.

"I'm still trying to figure you out," he replies, his gaze scanning my features. "You consume my every thought and just when I think I have you figured out, you switch it all around again."

"There's nothing to know, Rafe. I have been an open book with you since the beginning."

"Liar." He nips at my lip. I stare at him in confusion. "I would never would have fucked you that first night if I knew you were a virgin. You hid that from me."

I giggle. "Perhaps. But you would have regretted it later."

"I would have," he agrees with a nod. "I am rather fond of this cunt."

His fingers deftly find their way beneath the black knee-length dress, swiping my underwear aside before spearing into my heat. A sound escapes me and Rafe covers my mouth with his hand.

"Quiet now, wife. I need a hard and dirty fuck to take the edge off before I deal with rest of these people." His fingers continue to thrust into me as I nod.

I hear his belt and zipper before he raises my left leg around his hip, replacing his fingers with a cock I have come to crave more each day. He stares at me intently as he rams his full length into me and it takes every ounce of self-control not to scream at the pleasure that assails me. His hips piston harshly into me and I mewl. He stops abruptly, gripping my face harshly.

"If any of these men hear you come on my cock there will be hell to pay, Willow."

"Rafe," I whisper brokenly.

He picks up the pace once more and I don't know if I can hold back. I don't know if I want to hold back, with his threat. I have come to enjoy his punishments, as strange as that seems. My clit starts to throb and I know I won't be able to prevent my oncoming orgasm.

Rafe groans, his face in the crook of my neck, my pussy spasming violently around his length, milking him. I hold my breath, doing my best to remain quiet but it's impossible. A long, low moan escapes me, his name on my lips.

It takes a moment for both of us to get our breathing under control. Rafe stares at me with a dark glint in his gaze before pulling his cock out of me. He slides my underwear back into place before righting my dress.

"I need to clean up," I say.

"No." He shakes his head. "If you want to moan like a wanton whore, you can have my cum trickling down your leg for the rest of the day."