Raffaele: Taming His Tempestuous Virgin

“He said the only way to make up for what he’d done was for me to go to San Giuseppe—”

“Where he was born?”

“Right. He wanted me to go there and marry the daughter of a Sicilian don.”

“And you told him what he could do with that request,” Falco said.

“I did. I told him there was no way in the world I’d do it. Trouble was, I’d already given my word that I’d help him with the immortal soul nonsense.” Rafe paused, tried to pretend his brothers weren’t looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. “So I said, okay, I’d fly to Sicily but I sure as hell wasn’t marrying anybody.”

“Then, how’d you end up marrying this—this hoodlum princess?”

“She’s not,” Rafe said sharply. “She’d not anything like that.”

“Sorry,” Falco said coolly. “How’d you end up putting a ring on a stranger’s finger?”

Rafe laughed. “Actually, I haven’t. Not yet. It was—it was a kind of quick thing, you know? See, what happened was…”

Was what?

He thought about how Chiara had waylaid him on the road from Palermo. He thought of the first time he’d kissed her. They didn’t need to hear all that. It was too personal, too much a part of what he and his wife had immediately felt for each other and tried to deny. Instead, he told them the only part that counted. The ultimatum handed down by her father, that if Rafe didn’t marry her, he would give her to his brute of a capo.

Nick swore softly.

Rafe nodded. “I didn’t have any choice. I said I’d marry her. And I did.”

“You had a choice,” Falco said. “You could have walked away.”

“Would you?”

Falco gave him a long, assessing look. Then he shrugged. “Okay. You married her. Brought her to the States. And then what? Surely you told her you weren’t doing this for real.”

“Of course!” Rafe dug his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and began to pace. “Would I marry a woman I didn’t choose for myself? Would I marry a woman because Cesare demanded it?”

“Hell, no.”

“I made it clear this whole thing was temporary.”

“You called your lawyer?”

“Sayers. Sure. I called her right away.” Rafe shook his head. “She’s been out of the country. She told me to call the guy covering for her.”

“And you did.”

“No. I didn’t.” Telling the story was almost as complicated as living it. “I thought I’d wait for Sayers to come home…but things began to change.”

“The white-panties-in-the-elevator kind of change,” Nick said mildly.

Rafe swung toward him, glaring. “I told you that wasn’t up for discussion.”

“Maybe it should be. You took the lady to bed. You turned a logistical problem into an emotional one,” Falco said coldly.

“No. Yes. Damn it, it’s not that simple!”

“Isn’t it?”

“I knew what I had to do. Be supportive. Help her get started. Find her a place to live, that kind of thing.”

“But?”

“But it was all easier said than done. I felt responsible for her.” He paused. “And then, just a little while ago, I got it all sorted out.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Falco muttered.

“I realized I’d been dancing around, refusing to deal with reality.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Hallelujah.”

“And now, I know exactly what I have to do.”

“Then do it.”

“I was going to. I was going to talk to Chiara, tell her the truth—but you two bozos showed up.”

“So, you’ll tell her after we leave.”

“Of course I will. But, see, it isn’t that easy.” Rafe turned and paced the room again, then swung toward his brothers. “She knows I wanted out. I was up-front about it right from the start. Hell, I said it every chance I could. I didn’t want her misunderstanding our deal. But—”

“But you’ve slept with her,” Falco said bluntly. “And that complicated things.”

“Did you hear what I said? It isn’t that simple.”

“Sure it is. You’re worried about how she’ll react when you tell her the truth.”

“Damn it, of course I’m worried! What if she doesn’t react the way I want her to react? What if she says no? What if she says, ‘Raffaele, I married you. And now—’”

“And now,” a female voice said, “and now, it is over.”

The three men swung around. Nick and Falco blinked. The woman who stood halfway down the steps was dressed all in black. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she was carrying a black overnight bag.