His expression unreadable, but I could feel the tension rolling off him in quiet, dangerous waves.
Dante, ever the troublemaker, leaned back slightly, a lazy grin stretching across his face. "Relax, cousin. I’m only making observations. No need to act like I just threatened your empire."
"You’re not a threat," Raphael said flatly.
Dante chuckled. "That’s what makes dangerous."
Dante was pushing his buttons, testing the limits of his patience, enjoying every second of it.
I had to admit—it was entertaining.
Watching Raphael try to stay composed while his cousin poked at him like an annoying little brother made him feel... less perfect. Less like the untouchable Mafia king and more like a man who could be provoked.
That was interesting.
However, the atmosphere shifted the second a new voice interrupted their exchange.
"Mr. Delano," a smooth, asured voice called out.
Both n turned at the sa ti, their silent battle of wills montarily put on hold.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark navy suit approached, his presence exuding the quiet authority of soone used to being in power. His mask—a sleek black design covering the upper half of his face—gave him an air of mystery, his sharp eyes barely visible behind it.
Unlike Dante, who wore his arrogance like a second skin, this man was composed, calculated.
A businessman.
And based on the way Raphael imdiately straightened, he was soone important.
"Mr. Laurent," Raphael greeted, his voice smooth and professional. "I trust you’re enjoying the evening."
The masked man nodded. "Imnsely. Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected to see you here tonight. You tend to avoid these gatherings unless necessary."
Dante smirked. "Oh, trust , my cousin has plenty of reasons to be here tonight."
Raphael shot him a warning look but ignored the comnt entirely, focusing on the man before him.
"If I’m here, then it’s necessary," Raphael said evenly.
Laurent humd. "I see." His eyes flicked to briefly, curiosity evident. "And this must be your partner or even better, your wife perhaps."
I smiled politely, though I could already feel my face heating up. The word ’wife’ still felt foreign.
Raphael turned to , and to my absolute horror, he smiled.
Not his usual smirk.
Not that half-hearted, condescending curve of his lips.
No.
This was a real, breathtaking, heart-stopping smile.
And it hit like a train.
The rare sight of his dimples, the way his icy blue eyes softened for just a fraction of a second—it was unfair.
Unreasonable.
Illegal, even.
My stomach flipped, and I had to physically fight the blush threatening to take over my entire face.
I knew it was just for show. He was playing a part. Putting on the charming, well-mannered Mafia king act.
And yet.
Yet.
Damn it.
I could feel Dante’s eyes on , studying my reaction.
I quickly composed myself, forcing a polite nod. "A pleasure to et you, Mr. Laurent."
Laurent smiled slightly. "The pleasure is mine."
Flustered, I blindly followed Raphael as he led to a quieter corner of the ballroom.
As we moved, I dared to glance back at Dante, only to find him watching .
Not with his usual amusent.
But with sothing calculating.
Dante Moretti was dangerous.
Not just because he was Raphael’s cousin.
But because he was watching. And I had no idea what he planned to do with what he saw. And if he had ulterior motives regarding Raphael—or worse, regarding —I needed to be prepared.
*****
The conversation that followed was... boring.
Painfully boring.
Raphael and Laurent discussed business—trade routes, security asures, financial expansions. It was all just vague enough that I couldn’t fully grasp the details, and yet I had no doubt every word carried weight in their world.
Still, I kept my posture perfect, nodding when appropriate, playing the role of the ideal Mafia wife.
Laurent, unlike Dante, was respectful. He didn’t leer. He didn’t test boundaries. He was professional, direct, and oddly appreciative.
By the end of the conversation, he even turned to Raphael with a look of genuine gratitude.
"I appreciate your assistance," Laurent said, shaking Raphael’s hand. "Your generosity toward my son’s dical expenses will not be forgotten."
I blinked.
Wait.
What?
Raphael inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "I only did what was necessary."
Laurent’s gaze softened. "Necessary or not, it was an act of kindness. If there’s anything I can do in return, you need only ask."
With that, Laurent excused himself, disappearing into the sea of masked guests.
I stared after him, my mind whirling.
Raphael had helped with his son’s dical bills?
That... didn’t fit the image I had of him.
Langston’s gaze flickered to , as if suddenly rembering my presence. "Your partner must be proud to stand by your side."
Raphael smirked slightly. "She’s still deciding."
Langston let out a chuckle before taking his leave.
I turned to Raphael, watching him curiously. "You paid for his son’s dical bills?"
He didn’t look at . "It wasn’t a big deal."
I scoffed. "It sounds like a big deal."
His jaw ticked, as if uncomfortable with the subject. "He’s a valuable client. It was an investnt."
A convenient excuse.
But I saw through it.
Raphael Delano, the Ghost King, didn’t just pay off dical bills for investnts.
But he wasn’t about to admit that, was he?
Before I could question him further about it, another guest approached. Then another.
The rest of the night blurred into conversations, drinks, subtle power plays hidden beneath layers of civility.
At so point, we were ushered toward the dance floor, forced into a slow, elegant waltz beneath the golden chandeliers.
And while I hated every second of it, I had to admit... it wasn’t the worst night I’d ever had.
*****
As the night wound down, Raphael and I made our way toward the exit.
Dante, still lounging by the bar, lifted his glass in a mock toast.
"Until next ti, cousin. Feisty Little PRINCESS."
Raphael tensed beside , but before he could react, I moved first.
Placing a delicate hand on Raphael’s arm, I turned and offered Dante a slow, deliberate bow.
Not deep enough to be submissive.
But just enough to be a warning.
A silent way of drawing the line between us.
Dante’s smirk faltered, just slightly.
And I knew he understood.
Satisfied, I turned to him, offering the smallest smirk. "Better?"
He didn’t answer. But his grip on loosened ever so slightly as he led out.
As soon as we reached the car, Mira and Xavier sprang into action.
Xavier opened the door while Mira stood watch, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any lingering threats.
The second we were inside, the divider between the front and back seats slid up, giving us complete privacy.
For the first few monts, silence.
Then—
"That was exhausting," I muttered.
Raphael didn’t respond.
I turned to Raphael, studying him carefully.
His jaw was still tense. His fingers drumd idly against his knee.
He was still irritated.
I sighed. "You’re seriously still mad about Dante?"
His blue eyes flicked to . "Dante is a snake. And he knows how to get under my skin."
"He also enjoys it."
"Which is why I should have broken his jaw."
I smirked. "And yet, you didn’t."
He exhaled heavily, loosening his tie slightly.
Dante had gotten to him.
That was... useful information.
Raphael Delano, the cold, calculating Mafia king, could be riled up.
And if Dante could do it, so could I.
But more importantly...
I could use my influence over him to my advantage.
I shifted slightly in my seat, watching him from beneath my lashes.
Then, slowly, deliberately, I moved.
Swinging a leg over him, I straddled his lap.
His entire body went still.
I could feel his breath against my neck, sharp and controlled, but his hands remained at his sides, not touching .
Yet.
I smiled, trailing my fingers up the lapels of his suit. "You’re tense."
He exhaled slowly. "Selene."
"I’m just trying to help you relax."
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You’ve been good all night, playing the perfect gentleman."
His fingers twitched.
I took that as encouragent.
With an excruciating slowness, I slid the thin straps of my gown off my shoulders, letting them fall slightly down my arms.
His breathing hitched.
My lips curled.
I tilted my head, pretending to be deep in thought. "But now that the night’s over..." I let my nails drag lightly down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his suit. "I was thinking..."
I leaned in closer, just enough for my lips to ghost against his.
Then, in the softest, most sinful whisper, I purred—
"I’m feeling a little... restless."
His hands snapped up, gripping my hips, hard.
I bit back a smirk.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
His voice was dark, laced with warning.
"Little Rabbit... don’t start sothing you can’t finish."
I brushed my lips over his jaw, my pulse quickening. "Who
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