Chapter Eighteen

Raphael

"I want to pick some toiletries from my house Raphael, and I'm sure Gabriella would too," Sophie said. Her eyes pleading with me.

'Can't I pick them up for you?" I gave her a small smile, but it only made her uneasy.

She blushed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"No, it's private stuff," she whispered.

"Girly stuff, you mean?" I couldn't help teasing her. She blushed again, adorably so.

She nodded, twisting her entwined hair covering almost half her face. She looked beautiful, her lips had a natural pout, and they looked very red.

"Where did you get the lipstick?" I didn't really care; I just wanted a distraction from thinking about her lips.

"Had it in my handbag."

She lowered her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip, and I temporarily forgot how to breathe.

Why the hell did I start a conversation on lips when I didn't want to fixate on them?

I stared at her for almost a minute; I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was stunning; her top bared her arms. I still remembered how soft she felt on my arm.

I placed my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out for her.

"What do you need?"

She brushed her hair back from her face using both hands. Her face had this intense look like she expected me to say no and prepared to battle out with me. It was charming.

"Home," she whispered.

I wanted to tell her it's wasn't safe, but I did not. My hands fisted in frustration, looking outside, watching as the sun disappeared. Dusk was coming; maybe it'll be safer to drive her home in darkness.

How ironic that after spending years without caring what people thought of me or how they saw me, suddenly, I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted Sophie to like me.

My mind said I should say no and stick to it, but my heart wanted to please her, so I said yes.

Then she gave me a hesitant smile, almost shyly, a smile that showed her uncertainty. But I was determined to let her have her way today.

They'll be days when I will constantly say no to her wishes to protect her.

"I need to tell Gabs," she hurriedly walked past me, giving me a final glance before leaving me in a room that unexpectedly felt empty without her.

Striding out of the room, I came up to the front of the house, waiting for Sophie as I scrolled through my phone.

I heard their light footsteps and excited chatter. I concentrated on Sophie's voice, which I had come to know quite well.

It was almost 7 pm, and I knew nonna was about to call us in for supper, but it had to wait; this was urgent.

Without having to ask, Romano came out looking better than he had earlier.

"Bruno is bringing out the car," he said, standing beside me in silence as we waited.

I noticed Sophie holding Gabriella's arm in a comforting manner; the curiosity to know about these two increased.

Their friendship resembled that of family, yet neither of them had mentioned any family tie.

Bruno stopped at the entrance driving a Volvo XC90 with more seats than the other cars in the garage and appropriate because we were six of us.

I sat directly behind Sophie, my hand accidentally brushing her hair as I held onto her seat while positioning myself on mine.

My hand froze, wanting very much to run my fingers in her hair. Romano saw it, and he had this amused knowing smile on his face, which I ignored and turned my eyes out of the window, watching Sophie's reflection on the window.

"Directions, Piccola," I heard Bruno say. "And please gives accurate directions; Romano says you're terrible at it," he continued in an amused affection.

"I gave you accurate directions," Sophie said, turning to Romano in an appalled voice. "You found her didn't you?"

She sounded embarrassed, still leaning on her seat, slightly turned facing Romano. I couldn't trace her features accurately because it was becoming dark, but I imagined how her facial expressions were. Her eyebrows raised, her gaze fixed on Romano though she couldn't see him fully, her face innocently guilting him for saying she was bad at directions.

After a few minutes of driving, we stopped. The flats in the area pretty much looked like low-budget flats. Cars were parked outside, a foul smell coming from what must be a sewage nearby, reminding me of my days on the streets. The memories were unpleasant.

We all simultaneously got out of the car. Bruno walked almost side by side with Gabriella, who had not uttered a single word.

I moved on the side a bit to give Sophie some space to precede me, but she instead took my hand. She voluntarily took my hand. The first time she ever touched me without having to touch her first.

Her small hand disappeared into my big one. It should have felt alien, but her hand felt so damn good in mine. I didn't want to question my good fortune.

Her house was on the fifth floor. The building had no elevator. We had to climb the stairs, which were so narrow Sophie had to let go of my hand.

I shoved my hands in my cashmere coat and started walking behind her.

For someone who had lived on the streets in deplorable conditions more than a decade ago, seeing Sophie's small house did something to me. Her living room was located almost near the toilet; the kitchen was so small; two people couldn't fit in it.

Romano, Bruno, and I stood awkwardly in the living room. I was leaning on the door frame, my hands thrust in my pants, waiting for her to pick whatever she needed. This is not a place for her to live.

Silently, I vowed that she would never have to live in such a house again as long as I lived. She deserved to live in luxury, spoilt. She had such a beautiful heart. I imagined it's the kind of heart father Jôse always told Bruno and me every time we sought refuge in a church, hungry, cold, and nursing cuts and wounds from rival gangs or just gangs protecting their turfs.

"We have to go car," I shouted to Sophie. It was almost forty-five minutes later, and we could still hear them whispering, laughing, and giggling.

What the hell were they packing anyway, The bed?

I decided to give them five more minutes; then, I was going in. I impatiently started pacing around the small living room. I felt crowded, and it was becoming uncomfortable.

Bruno narrowed his eyes at me. Romano was the only one who remained unruffled. He was sitting on the arm of one chair; his long legs stretched almost to the door. The only thing that showed his impatience was how he kept tapping his thighs with his fingers.

That's it! I'm going in. I thought.

I entered without knocking.

"We have to g-" I faltered and stopped. This room was beautiful, such a contrast with the rest of the house. It was impressive.

The beddings were pure white; god knows why.

Doesn't she sweat? Who in their right mind has white beddings?

But I guess that was the allure. The wallpaper was light grey; parts of the wall had a painting of what appeared to be of Tuscan countryside and another of a woman walking on a beach in a sunny blue sky. She had a bedside table with a few books and a lamp, which was the only thing that didn't fit in the room. It was purple, old, and looked out of place.

I kicked myself out of my daze.

"We need to go. Out, both of you!" I sounded harsh and impatient, which wasn't my intention. I saw Gabriella stiffen, but Sophie just told me to pick up the lamp.

"Really, are you sure?" I asked, wondering why she would want to carry such a hideous thing. I hesitated a bit, waiting for her to take a look at it maybe and remember the thing needed to be thrown out.

But she didn't spare a glance at the lamp or me; she just walked out, pulling her suitcase.

I guess the ugly lamp and I had one thing in common. She didn't feel the need to spare a glance to either of us.

Strolling out of the room, I saw Romano was carrying her suitcase, and Bruno was eagerly standing at the door.

"Let's go," I said.

It was almost 9 pm by the time we arrived back home. We were lucky Gabriella didn't take almost an hour to pack. She was effectively fast, which cannot be said of Sophie.

I wondered what she carried in that huge case. Romano jokingly asked her whether she packed rocks, which she answered with a giggle and a smile.

Damn, these guys were getting used to her more faster than I was.



Sophie

Dinner was a straightforward affair. I sat between Raphael and Gabriella. The food was fantastic; nonna did cook like an angel. The whole time Bruno was driving us back, he kept telling us we were the reason he hadn't had a chance to sit down and enjoy nonna's food. Which he later devoured with relish.

I already loved his house, I may not understand how I ended up here or why I couldn't stay in my own house, but I was beginning to like these three men. Plus, I had Gabs; I figured I was going to be just fine.

My room was next to Raphael's, which didn't make sense. I thought I would either share a room with Gabs or have one next to hers, but I didn't ask. It wasn't my house; I had no right to demand it, nor did I want to request for it.

The room was magnificent. The windows were so large they covered almost the size of the wall. I had my own dressing table, something I had never owned in my life.

It had so much extra space I wondered what to do with it.

Lifting my glass of water, I stole a glance at Raphael; he sat at the head of the table. His face was hard. He exuded power; he was indifferent, a man who knew his place in the world, unaccountable to no one but himself—a master of his own fate.

What was I doing with such a man?

I was a small-town girl with nothing but an old car to my name. He was a man who owned mansions, a handsome man who was almost beautiful though I guessed no one would dare tell him that unless they had a death wish.

After dinner, I went direct to my room. I was tired; I needed to shower and sleep in that order.

It felt so good and comfortable. I thought of my new bed. I can't remember falling asleep, but I woke sweating, hearing Raphael's urgent voice trying to wake me up.

The damn dream again!

Every time I felt uncertain in my life, the nightmares began again. I didn't feel uncertain at all, but maybe I was unconsciously fearful.

Raphael carried me to his room. I was awake at this time, wearing my white silk pajama shorts.

I blushed when he subjected me to thorough scrutiny. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and for a second, I waited for him to kiss me like he had done yesterday, but he didn't. I must have looked disappointed because he chuckled and then rolled on his back, bringing me with him. My body sprawled on top of him, and his arms protectively on my waist.

"Cara, why are you having bad dreams?" he whispered. I laid my cheek on his chest, trying to hide from his eyes.

"Look at me."

I did. Shaking my head, eyes flooding with tears. I felt humiliated crying in front of him.

He swore in Italian, his hands tightening around my waist, resting his chin on top of my head. I felt protected.

We stayed silent for a while, though I could still feel tears flowing unashamedly down my face to Raphael's bare chest.

"Stop crying."

"I'm not crying" It was appalling to know he might think I was a weakling.

"Really? Then what is that worm fluid I feel flowing on my chest? "

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I apologized vehemently while I tried to lift myself off of him, but he didn't let me. He gently lifted me and laid me on my back.

"Don't apologize, care," he whispered, leaning on elbows, brushing his knuckles against my cheeks, wiping my tears.

"Why are you having nightmares?" he asked me again. His voice was calm and sober. His black opal eyes fixed on me. I didn't want to talk about it, so I shook my head, shifting my eyes from him.

"Alright, Cara, I won't push you to tell me," I sniffed and rubbed my eyes, relieved that he wasn't going to persuade me.

"I'm sorry I woke you; please go back to sleep," I said apologetically as I made a move to get up and walk back to my room, but his strong warm hands didn't move; he just slid his hand on my bare stomach.

I felt heat everywhere. His eyes turned dark with desire. He is going to kiss me. I thought, waiting in anticipation. My eyes on his, the excitement I felt was terrifying and utterly fascinating.

Then he brought his mouth down on mine with a driven sense of purpose that pushed me from one state of bubbling desire to another. Then he abruptly stopped. Dragging his lips to the corner of my mouth, cheeks, and eyes.

"Goodnight, Tesoro" he kissed my mouth one more time before pulling me to him. My breathing was still frantic; I said nothing, neither did I move; I just laid my head on his shoulders and willed myself to sleep.