Sweet Collateral

His fist clench at his sides, jaw ticking. He looks every inch the terrifying mafia boss everyone else see’s. “I sent you away to keep you safe.”

My temper spikes, tearing through my carefully erected wall of indifference. “That wasn’t your call to make!”

“It was absolutely my call to make!” He’s so close now I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face, smell the smoke that clings to him. "Maria should have been untouchable. She was family. I won’t lose you too.”

And that breaks my heart on multiple levels.

63

Rafael

She looks good, her tight curves are covered in black, a gun holster is strapped to her thigh. Una has rubbed off on her. I should have expected it, and yet I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. When I sent her away it was under this foolish premise that she would be protected and safe, not that she would turn into the very assassins I sent her to.

“You lost Maria, so I had to lose you? Was that it?" she whispers. And there it is, just a glimpse of the girl I know. The pain in her eyes, that’s all her; my Anna. Sweet, breakable.

I can’t stop myself from sweeping a golden curl off her face. “I won’t put you at risk.”

The fragile vulnerability washes away in the blink of an eye. “Fuck you, Rafe. You did it because you were scared.”

“I did it because I love you!” She squeezes her eyes shut and I sweep my fingertips over the soft skin of her cheek. “I love you.”

When she opens her eyes, there’s nothing but hurt and anger. “No, you don’t. I thought I loved you because you saved me. You thought you loved me because I was innocent and broken…”

“Stop.”

“It was all a lie.”

“Stop!”

“I see that now.”

I slam my hand over her mouth because I can’t listen to her spew fucking poison. I’m on the cusp of losing her. I can feel it. Our eyes lock, and a thousand unspoken words pass between us. Everything we’ve been through together, the precious moments and the ugly horrors; it all lingers in that small space between our bodies. I thought nothing could break this, break us. Perhaps Nicholai Ivanov, or Dominges couldn’t, but I could. Maybe I did. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. Sorry for sending her away, because I see now that my abandonment cut her deep, and Una healed her by putting a gun in her hand and turning her into this.

Anna’s fingers wrap around my wrist, and I allow her to pull my hand from her mouth. My heart thumps heavily and time seems to stand still as her lips part, and she sucks a sharp breath into her lungs, getting ready to deliver her next words like a wielded knife.

“Don’t be. You did me a favor.”

Loving her has always been painful, but this is torture.

We stare at each other for a long moment. There’s not a hint of a chink in that armor she’s wrapped around herself. I don’t have time to win her over right now. I’ve spent the last few months being a man she wouldn’t even recognize, and now is not the time to revert back to the man she once loved.

I re-take my seat behind my desk. “You will stay here.”

She cocks a brow and that look is all Una. I don’t know whether to be pleased that she’s gained confidence or gutted that my sweet Anna has been so buried in my absence. “No, I won’t.”

“It wasn’t a request.” Her hand slides to the gun at her thigh. I smirk. “You didn’t think you could just walk into my city and run riot?”

She steps forward until her thighs bump the edge of my desk, and she braces her hands on the wood. My eyes drop to her cleavage before meeting her gaze again. “Funny, from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like I took out your enemies.”

I push to my feet, placing my palms against the desk and matching her position. “This is my city. My war. My fight. If you were anyone else…”

A small smile touches her lips, and then I feel the cool brush of metal at my throat, the sharp sting of her blade. “My fight with the Sinaloa is my own. So I am walking out of here.”

I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips. “Ah, little warrior, you forget who I am.” My hand slams around her throat, and I have her on her back on the desk in a heartbeat. She sucks deep breaths into her lungs, keeping the blade to my throat. When I look into her eyes, I expect to see a trace of fear, but it’s absent. Truthfully, I could never hurt her, and I think she knows it. “You are welcome to stay or leave and go back to New York.” Everything in me is screaming at me not to let her go. Watching her walk away once was hard, a second time might kill me. She’s my reason, my sense of calm in the most destructive of storms. Without her, I’m chaotic, without a center.