Damn the water I left running in my bathroom!

My concern right now is just how much Raffa has witnessed from the scene between the sexy French guy and me. Not that there was something to witness but the guy was literally drooling around me.

Raffa's face is straight and hard, the only emotion displaying, if any, being a coldness that can freeze even the sun itself. 

"I...", I try to mumble an excuse but my lips forget how to utter words.

Showing no interest in what I have to say, he moves in a feline-like walk, waving his manly aura and wrapping me in a void that suddenly sucks all air around.

I wished I could move. I wished I could run but my stubborn self wants only his touch, his breath close to my skin and my wish is granted.

If not for his bulky arm wrapping around my waist I would have certainly fallen to the ground, my knees shaking like a reed in the wind.

He bends over me till his lips reach my earlobe where my skin feels his breath erecting goosebumps and my eardrums suddenly become the strongest amplifier of each of his breaths.

I'm dying for a kiss! Not just any kiss, I'm dying for Raffa's kiss. My entire skin feels burning with each and every hair standing and vibrating and I believe I have never had a time in my life before when I felt more invested in a man as I am with Raffa.

"Andiamo...", he whispers in my ear making me exhale loudly. (Let's go).

"Dove?" I ask in the most natural accent ever, gluing my eyes to his surprised stare. (Where?)

"Stiamo andando a casa," he says and grabs my hand leading the way through the crowd of people and aiming at the exit. (We're going home.)

I follow him so obediently that even father would have been surprised.

"Excuse-moi... pardon... je suits desole ..." he says to each person he needs to move out of our way and I find it the sexiest thing on a man, keeping decency at the peak of anger. (Excuse me... pardon me... sorry).

"Ma non voglio tornare a casa," I say pulling his hand and making him turn around and look at me once we are at the exit. (But I don't want to go home).

He stares at me for a few moments and I can tell his mind is frozen. That anger to have seen me here seems to have blocked his brain because he neither says no nor says yes, just stares, making shy and shift from one leg to the other and stealing short looks at his face.

I can't stop it. I feel like having finally been returned to my home whenever I look into his black big eyes sparkling with such intensity.

It always makes me smile, always. It always makes me want more, more of him.

"Ti porto a casa tua, Mia, dall'America," he says. (I'm taking you to your home, in America).

And call me crazy, but he doesn't look happy with this decision.

And neither am I.

"What the fuck!? You can't send me home. Who the fuck are you to decide that?!" I yell and jerk my hand from his grip.

"Mia, controllati..." he warns me between tight teeth reaching his hand to me. (Mia, control yourself).

"Mia, controllati. Ti porto a casa tua," I start mocking him and his silly macho way of being. "I'm not going anywhere. You didn't hire me! Fabio Stratti did," I conclude and turn around to leave. (Mia, control yourself. I'm taking you home).

Bad move. I realized it was not a smart thing to do when I felt my waist grabbed with a stronghold and I flew in the air, landing right on Raffa's shoulder.

"Lasciami andare, bruto!" I shout hitting his back with my fists and kicking my legs in the air. (Let me go, you brute!)

I lift my head searching for Fabio in the crowd and, admittedly hoping he would come to rescue me from this kidnap attempt but guess what? He is gracefully standing next to the counter while holding a cigar and looking at us, smiling, having no intention whatsoever to help me.

Almost immediately the watcher of my father stands up from one of the tables and tries to come and save me but Raffa raises one hand and points his index at him as if bullets would fire out.

"Don't you fucking dare to move!" he threatens and walks out, carrying me on his shoulder while I give up fighting.

Because I'll call papa and he'll fix this.

A black Jeep stops right at the front door in the exact second we get out and Raffa throws me, carefully, and buckles up, gently my seatbelts.

While stretching over me to find the seatbelt lock, his neck reaches impossibly close to my nose, making me inhale that intoxicating cologne radiating from his skin.

I swear I can see goosebumps forming right where I naughtily blow air, hot air because I'm literally on fire.

"Stop that," he mumbles, absolutely uninterested in me stopping.

I smirk. He likes it. He won't take me either home or any other place.

"Stop what?" I ask.

He turns his face toward me, evidently surprised but also scolding me with his beautiful eyes.

Tough luck, buddy. I smile when his lips almost touch mine while turning his head to look at me.

"I'm still taking you home," he says and stands up straight, closing the passenger's door in the process.

He walks around the car and takes the seat at the steering wheel, buckling his own seatbelt and putting the car in motion, giving me no more attention, and would have bought his lack of interest if it weren't for the sweat on his forehead and the veins visibly popping at his temples.

"I'll call papa. He'll pick me up in the morning," I tell him thinking l it would be a relief for him, but instead, I see the knuckles of my hands turning white while squeezing the steering wheel.

"Why did you get out this evening? Why this way? You could have told me," he finally speaks, gravely and coldly.

"And you would have done what? Take me out and watch me as if I'm some sort of oil pipeline. Or kill to get on my father? It didn't work killing him for sure, then why not kill his daughter?"

"Kill your father?! What are you talking about?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

"I know what you did before coming to my university. Does Fabio know? Is this some sort of strategy to get to my father? Because I know papa..."

"Your father killed my dad! So things are a little the other way around, don't you think so?" he yells in desperation to make shut up.

And shut up I did! I mean, I know papa is not from the cleanest Dons Italy had and I think I've always known he is rather on the dark side than the bright one but still, I have a very hard time believing he killed someone himself.

I stare at Raffa while his eyes are glued to the road and his hands squeeze tightly the steering wheel while the speed increases gradually.

"You won't believe that! What do you want? Money? Businesses? You're already a Don so I can't imagine papa standing in your way here. What do you want?!" I exasperatedly shout mainly as a result of adrenaline hiking with the speed increasing and finally, seeing another car driving straight at us.

"I want you!" Raffa yells, holding the wheel tight and preparing for impact as there was no way to avoid it.

He knows the car in front is targeting us and his roaring reply seems a desperate cry of letting me know that before we both die.

"Raffa!" I shout and close my eyes covering my head with my arms just before the impact when I feel our car shifting suddenly to the right.

Gravitation pushes me to my right side, banging my head to the window and throwing me back, somewhere towards Raffa, feeling a large palm grabbing my arm and struggling to hold me tight and stop my levitation.

I hear a heavy groan coming from Raffa, covered by the sound of metal and wheel screeching.

And then the car stops, and all noises and chaos stop together with it.

There's a deadly silence around, scary, cringy, so deep that I could hear my own blood running through my veins.

I'm not sure if it's safe or not but I open my eyes, holding my breath in preparation for what I'm about to see. I know we have been in an accident. What I don't know is if I'm alive or if my soul left my body already.

And Raffa. Where's Raffa? My God, Raffa... I mumble his name and start hyperventilating and that's how I know I'm still alive.

It's only now that I realize his hand is still glued to my back as if still protecting me.

I turn my head to my left and there I see Raffa, sitting in the driver's seat, one hand hanging on the steering wheel and the other one crossing my back. His head hangs unconsciously with the chin pinned to his chest.

And there is blood. It can't be my blood because I feel fine, nothing hurts. Then who's blood is this?

"Raffa... wake up. Baby, wake up..." I tell him almost in a whisper as if he is sleeping and I don't want him to suddenly wake up.

But he is not sleeping, because I grab his arm and shake him a few times.

"Raffa... please..." I sob. This can not be it!

"Mia? Sweetie, do you hear me?" I hear Julian calling me.

"Julian? I'm fine. Please open this door," I shout when trying to open my door and couldn't. Then pulled it a few times hysterically.

"Please, Julian! Open up. Raffa is not alright! Raffa is hurt!" I yell then turn back to Raffa, unbuckle my fucking seatbelt and climb all the way to Raffa's lap, grabbing his head between my hands and staring at his bloody face, while shaking it roughly and yelling his name.

"Raffa, open your eyes, baby. Please look at me, I'm begging you," I tell him sobbing, hoping he can still hear me. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury his head in my chest, desperately crying and begging. "Raffa, ti prego, apri gli occhi e guardami. Sono qui. Non vado da nessuna parte. Ti amo..." I whisper and it worked. (Raffa, please open your eyes and look at me. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I love you).

I feel Raffa coming back to life in my arms, sucking loudly a good chunk of air as if now he is born again.

"Raffa, oh my God," I yell pulling his head and trying to look at his face, dying to see those beautiful eyes but right at that moment the door swings open and some strong arms pull me out despite my struggle to free myself.

"No! No, let me go!"

"Mia, it's me, Julian," I hear my brother saying but I don't care.

I keep fighting him to let me go and Raffa grabs my waist trying to pull me back in the car, but when their eyes meet, they have a silent understanding and he let me go.

"Julian, let me go!" I keep shouting.

"Mia, we will take care of him, don't worry," Julian says and no matter how much I fight, he is stronger and lifts me running away with me to his car.

"Julian, he needs a hospital. Please let me go," I say sobbing while he carefully puts me in the passenger seat putting on the seatbelt.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We will take him to the hospital. He'll be fine, Mia. I promise."

His voice is shaking. He's breathing heavily and I understand the fright he must have gone through.

I turn my head to look for Raffa and I see men pulling him out of the wrecked car while the one that hit us was a few meters away, burning in flames.

Julian gets quickly in the car and we drive off from the place at an insane speed as if our lives depend on it.

"Who was it?" I ask Julian, still sobbing.

"Definitely his enemies."

"I thought papa was his enemy."

"Rather the other way around," he mumbles, grabbing the steering wheel tighter and constantly checking the rear mirror, making sure nobody follows us.

"I want you to take me to him, to the hospital. I want to make sure..."

"Will you shut up, Mia? Your little escapade is enough trouble right now!"

"I'll run away again," I say ignoring him completely.

"The fuck you will! Papa has plans for you. And truthfully, I can't wait for him to complete it."

"What plans?! Ma che cazzo stai dicendo?!" (What the fuck are you talking about?)

"Well, it's involving Italy, so I guess you will be happy," Julian replies while we access the gates of a villa where I suppose papa is waiting for us.

As soon as we approach the front door, I can see papa getting out of the villa and before Julian even stops the car, I jump out and run straight to papa, who is already waiting for me with his arms reaching out to me and pulling me to his chest while he bends his tall frame over me.

"Papa, devo andare in ospedale! Devo vedere Raffa," I tell him crying my heart out. (Papa, I have to go to the hospital! I have to see Raffa!)

"Lo so, principessa. E tu andrai. Prometto che ti ci porterò io," he speaks softly while holding me tight and pulling me into the house. "But now you need rest, Mia." (I know, princess. And you will go. I promise I'll take you there myself).

"Ma papa..." I try to protest. (But, dad...)

"That's my condition in the change of taking you to the hospital tomorrow," he replies, short, sharp, hiding his anguish so perfectly but not from me.

I know papa like maybe only mama Eve knows him and I can totally understand what he must have been through this evening.

So I decide to let go, for now.

The moment we show up in the living, Mama Eve and Nona Becca snap from their spot on the sofa and both run toward me, both hugging me tight and both sobbing.

"I'm okay ladies, I promise," I keep telling them and try a shy smile while looking at Papa who only stands in the middle, with hands shoved in his pants pockets and fighting his own fright.

"Ma perché siete tutti qui?" I ask them when finally the family hug is somehow over.

Somehow, as Mama Eve can't keep her hands away.

"I told you, Mia. I need to know about you at all times or else I'll tell your father. You didn't reply to my messages twice and didn't pick up my calls also twice. I'm not joking, principessa," she gives detailed info about why they are here.

Truth be told, I don't think I would ever imagine this evening in any other way but like this.

We're Benitos. We're an Italian clan and who is not Italian by blood, will surely become sooner or later. And being a clan, we always stick together, no matter how, when, or where.

"I'm sorry, mom," I tell her and plant a kiss on her cheek.

"That's okay. I understand, sweetheart. Most importantly, you are fine and home," Mama Eve says, slowly caressing my head and glowing with joy.

Separate from the very sweet moment Mama Eve and grandma Becca grand us all, a very intense stare between me and papa makes the air thick and heavy.

"Papa, Julian said you had plans for me."

"Later, principessa," he almost begs.

"No. Now. I'm not a kid anymore, papa."

WHe looks at me for a few moments, tilting his head to the right and pressing his lips in a thin line, really doubting now it is the right moment. 

"Va bene. Andrai in Italia e starai da tua zia Feli per un po'. Partiamo domani. E tu non rivedrai mai più Raffa, altrimenti tornerai negli Stati Uniti e io mi assicurerò che tu ti sposi in più di un mese," he speaks loud and clear, giving no option of choice or a chance to this even dare to think I can make him change his mind. (Alright. You'll go to Italy and stay with your aunt Feli for a while. We leave tomorrow. And you will never see Raffa again or else you'll go back to the USA and I'll make sure you're married in mo more than a month).

~~~~~
Dear Reader, thank you for being here. 🤗