June Marnie shuffles toward the bed and pauses, one hand against the wall. I hold onto her elbow, but she waves me away. “No, I’m fine. I can do this.” “Marn—“ She ignores me and closes the gap. Crossing the room is a serious effort. The stairs took it out of her. She collapses into the bed, flopping onto her back and grinning at me. “How do I look?” She’s a mess. The bruises are fading, but she’s too thin. She can’t walk too far without getting exhausted and she’s still in pain. Eating is fine, talking is okay, but anything that in volves exerting herself seems impossible. She can’t bend, which means she can’t tie her shoes, dress herself all the way, or even shower alone. That’s why we have nurses on twelve-hour shifts to cover any of her needs and to make sure she’s healing right. I try not to think about the bloodstains downstairs. About the huge cleaning crew still working to get the place in shape. Marnie didn’t question the men filling bulletholes and painting away the worst of the damage. The attack happened three days earlier, and she hasn’t heard a pe ep about it. I still haven’t fully processed what happened. Last night, I woke up sweating and whimpering, only to find Rafe pulling me to his chest. He held me tight in the darkness, kissing my neck, telling me I was safe until I calmed down. I fell back asle ep in his arms, because I couldn’t imagine lying there another second without his touch. I’m a mess, and he’s being patient. But Hattie? She’s acting like it never happened. There are going to be issues, I know. Little kids rebound and get past stuff easier than adults do. Still, I made sure Rafe reached out to the best child therapist he could find for when Hattie is ready to talk to someone, which should be sooner rather than later. Only I want to make sure it’s safe first. “Gotta admit, this place is a lot nicer than I thought.” She looks around and seems a bit better now that she’s off her feet. “Seriously, June, how’d you end up bagging a rich guy?” I smile to myself and realize I never told her how Rafe and I met. “Remember your bachelorette party?”
“Oh god.” She covers her face with one hand. “I was such a bitch that night. I wish we could erase that entire chapter of my life.” “Well, if we did that, I wouldn’t have Hattie.” She peeks at me from between her fingers then lets her hand drop. “Are you serious right now? I thought you were like the den mother that whole weekend.” I grin devilishly and tell her the full story: mistaking Rafe for the stripper, running into him at the ice machine later, following him to his room. I leave out the graphic sex but she gets the picture. “June, you dirty slut, I can’t believe it. I knew you had a one-night stand, but you’ve always been shady about where and when.” “I abandoned you and I felt bad about it.” “Uh, dude, we were a freaking wreck that night. I’m happy you had some fun.” “You really were a mess.” “Poor Beth. I puked in her lap. Twice.” I burst out laughing. Marnie smiles back. All at once I feel it, how having her here is the biggest stress relief imaginable. I hug her fiercely, which earns a pained groan, and I spend the next few minutes apologizing for being such a clumsy idiot. “Hello, hello,” the nurse on duty says, an older woman with sleek dark hair. “I’m Bernadette Kelly, you can call me Birdie, all my patients do. How are we feeling, hon?” “Like I fell down the st eps a few weeks ago.” “Sounds about right. I got pills if you need them.” Marnie lights up. “Good pills? The kind that makes my back stop feeling like it’ll fall off?” Birdie waggles her hand. “Good-ish pills. I’m not about to make you an opioid addict, but we’ll take the edge off, how’s that?” “I’ll swallow whatever you got. Incidentally, that’s what I used to say to my ex-husband.” I grimace, thinking Birdie might not appreciate Marnie’s lewd sense of humor, but the old woman only cackles. “My husband wishes. Your ex must be a real piece of work to lose a girl like you. Now, let’s talk schedules. Mrs. Corvino, you’re welcome to stick around if you like?” “No, that’s okay.” I kiss Marnie’s forehead. “Love you. Get settled. I’ll be back later.” “I’m not going anywhere.” She sinks into her pillow and closes her eyes. “Not with those fucking stairs.” “We’ll install an elevator,” I promise as I make my way into the hall. A warm feeling swells in my chest. Marnie’s here and she seems okay. The house is safe and it’s almost like the attack never happened. The only problem is Rafe.
He’s pulling into himself and I don’t know why. Since Hattie’s busy with a new nanny, I have time and space to breathe. I linger, letting myself soak in the good feeling for a few minutes. Marnie’s going to be okay—and then the hard work of putting her back together and trying to make up for the hell I put her through will begin. But for now? We’re all under one roof, and we’re alive. I walk down to the kitchen. Byron’s pr epping lunch. “June! Always a pleasure! Your lovely daughter was here only a few moments ago. That nanny has her hands full.” “Oh no, what did Hattie do?” “Stole six carrots and said she’s going to feed the ponies.” Byron gazes at me with unashamed pride. “That girl’s got an imagination.” “She does, only I hope it doesn’t get her in trouble.” “A little trouble’s okay! That’s what I think, at least! Now, what can I get you?” “Something for Rafe, actually. He’s in his office working and I doubt he’s taking time to eat.” Byron pauses and looks at me, surprised, and I fidget under that curious frown. But it quickly passes and he’s back into motion. “I know just the thing,” he says, gathering ingredients. “Give me a few minutes. Sit over there.” He gestures at a chair near the wall with a knife. “And don’t move!” I do as I’m told. It’s nice watching Byron work. He’s a master and it shows. The man’s meticulous, careful, and skilled. His attention to detail is impressive and his knowledge of ingredients, flavors, techniques, and cooking time is unsurpassed. Which is why I’m delighted when he hands me a plate with grilled cheese. “Seriously? This is what he wants?” “This is what he needs,” Byron corrects. “Wait a moment. One more thing.” He hurries off and returns with a big mug of hot tea. “Now you’re settled.” “I’m not even sure I’ve seen him eat carbs before.” “Rafe takes care of himself,” Byron agrees. “But I have a feeling he’ll bend some of his rules if his wife brings him that personally.” I get the sense I’m being set up for something, but I don’t have any other ideas for what to feed my monster husband. I thank Byron and carry the plate and the tea down the twisting halls, ignoring the construction, the holes in the walls, the stink of blood and sweat, the workers and twice the number of guards, until I reach Rafe’s private office. His double doors are exquisite. I knock, awkwardly balancing everything in one hand, and let myself inside. The interior is large and dim, lit only by weak orange overhead bulbs turned to low. The fir eplace is quiet with a fine sheen of ash along the bottom. Books line the shelves. A couch is against one wall. The floor is covered in
thick, beautiful rugs. And a massive desk owns the space, behind which sits my husband. He’s frowning at his laptop and barely seems to notice I’m standing a few feet away. “Uh, Rafe? Sorry if I’m interrupting.” He glances over, blinking slowly as he comes back to the room. “June. When did you get here?” “Just a second ago.” I walk to his desk and place the plate down. “I got you some—“ I awkwardly tilt the tea mug and spill some on the fine mahogany. For a beat, I think he might be angry. This desk is clearly worth a fortune. It’s lacquered, perfectly shiny, with intricate carvings and raven motifs. It wouldn’t be out of place in a museum. But he only grunts and moves his papers before they get wet. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” He walks to a drink cart and comes back with a bar towel. “Oh god, I messed it up. I can be such an idiot—“ “June.” He wipes the spilled tea and puts a hand on my hip. “It’s fine. Really. It isn’t a big deal.” I blow out a breath and realize I’m on edge. I don’t even know why. Before, near Marnie, I felt good, but standing in here, it’s like all that tension comes cre eping back. “You’ve been in here all morning. I figured you’d be hungry.” He puts the towel away and returns to his place, dragging the plate over. “You’re right, I haven’t eaten. I’m surprised you noticed.” “I can be observant sometimes.” He stares at the grilled cheese like he’s never seen it before, lifts it to his mouth, and takes a bite. I wonder if Byron screwed me as he chews and swallows. Rafe’s face doesn’t show any emotion as he takes a second bite, and a third, and a fourth before the slightest hint of a smile cracks the corner of his lips. “My mother used to make this,” he says at a whisper. “Back when I was little. It’s my comfort food.” Warmth floods my chest, battling away some of the fear I’ve been holding on to. “You don’t talk about your family much.” “I know.” He takes another, slower bite, and drinks his tea. “You can if you want to.” I look down at my lap. “I understand wanting to ke ep it to yourself though.” “Is that what you do?”
I shift in my chair, wringing my hands. “My parents died when I was young too. Well, my dad did, and my mom ran out on me. I was raised by my grandmother.” “Harriet,” he says. “I named Hattie after her. She was perfect. Everything I needed. Too old to really raise me actively, but patient, kind, and loving. I learned how to handle myself and everyone around me because Grandma couldn’t always be there to do everything, but she was amazing. And the day Hattie was born—“ I stop myself, tears filling my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He stands and comes around the desk, sinking into the chair beside mine. He reaches across and takes my hands into his. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” “Sometimes I forget she’s gone. That’s crazy, right? It’s been over five years. But some days I think to myself, wow, I haven’t talked to Grandma in a while, I should call her. And my heart breaks all over again knowing I never can.” His thumb grazes over my knuckles. “That hurt doesn’t go away. It changes, or it did for me. I don’t think about playing with Leanna anymore. I don’t wonder what she’s doing. But I do imagine who she might have become if she had been allowed to grow up.” “That’s how I feel too. I wonder what Grandma would’ve thought about Hattie.” “She would’ve been proud. Our daughter’s a good girl. Clever. Strong. Imaginative.” For the first time in a while, I don’t feel the urge to correct him. Instead, I tug him closer. “I’m sorry you lost your parents and your sister. How old was she?” “Too young.” The pain in his voice is raw and sharp. “She was the youngest. I sometimes think if I had been faster... if I had been more engaged...” “What do you mean?” His eyes close and he sighs. “I wasn’t home when it happened.” “Isn’t that why you were able to save your brothers?” “Yes. Maybe. I wonder though, if I had been there, maybe—“ He lifts his chin toward the ceiling. “I wasn’t always the way I am now. Back then I had a wild streak. I rebelled against the strict structures of the family. I told my father I didn’t want to be a member of the Corvino family. Only a few days before the fire, I told him I wanted to find my own path, even knowing how that would break his heart. We had such a terrible fight and I was staying away from the house as much as I could. When it happened—“ He meets my gaze. “I’m ashamed of this, but I was with a girl. I was doing drugs, listening to music. I almost didn’t notice my phone going off, and I nearly didn’t pick it up. Why would I when—“ He grimaces and stops, gazing at the floor. “Rafe...” I reach out and touch his cheek. I pull him close and kiss his lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were a kid.” “I was twenty-two,” he whispers. “I should have known better.” “But you saved them. All your brothers.”
He looks down at his hands. At the burns on his skin. “I couldn’t save my parents. I couldn’t get to Leanna.” “It isn’t your fault.” I pull his face so he’s looking at me again. “I’m sorry you carry this, but you didn’t light that fire. You didn’t cause it.” “You’re right, and I learned from what happened. That’s why I am who I am today. I take care of my brothers. I take care of my family. I don’t turn my back on the people I love, and I sure as hell don’t let myself get distracted by pretty girls.” I smile slightly, my thumb brushing close to his lips. “Is that what happened the night we met?” “Yes,” he says, his tone low and aching. “Was I some horrible mistake?” “God, yes.” My stomach twists. “Rafe—“ “You were the best kind of mistake.” He leans in, pulls me to him, and kisses me. His mouth is warm and firm, his kiss hard and hungry. “You were the kind of mistake that made me a better man. You were a mistake I’d make a thousand times. We made Hattie, that brilliant girl, and it brought you into my life. I was a fool that night, ruining you the way I did, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I kiss him, getting out of my chair to sit in his lap. I straddle him, knees on either side of his hips as I wrap my arms around his neck. I dive against his mouth, starving for him, his tongue soft and heavenly, thinking, not a mistake but a gift, what a gift, as his hands roam my body. I groan, grinding down into him. He grunts in return as his palms slip up my top and cup my breasts. I shiver with delight as his hands move out to grab my ass, our tongues swirling and flitting, kiss getting de eper as my hunger and desire increase, my core pulsing and aching with need for him. He stands. I gasp as he pushes me back against his desk. The tea cup tips and spills for a second time, splashing all over the floor. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t care, only lifts me onto his desk. “Rafe,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his hips. He grips one of my wrists and pins it behind my back, possessive and controlling, and his only answer is his mouth on mine, biting my lower lip, nibbling and sucking as he kisses me. I groan. His mouth moves lower, kissing my neck, and he releases my wrist only long enough to pull my top over my head, my hair spilling out and around my shoulders. He groans as he removes my bra and drops his mouth to suck my nipples greedily. “Perfect,” he moans, tugging at my hair. I lace my arms around his neck again, holding him as he licks me, bliss burning between my legs, the need growing like hungry flames. “God, June, my life was quiet before you entered it, and now it’s like I
don’t want silence ever again.” “Is that a compliment?” “It’s more.” He looks into my eyes and slips one hand between my legs, gliding under my waistband, down over my pussy above my underwear. “It’s an admission that I can’t sle ep without you anymore. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Our mistake gave us Hattie, but it also gave me you.” He teases my pussy, stroking me. I whimper and unbutton his dress shirt, breathing hard as he works me. I’m burning with how badly I want him, legs open, mind buzzing. This man is too much, he’s a monster, he’s a beast— And he’s everything. His touch, his lips, his words. He took care of me for years from afar. Those checks I always chalked up to good luck? The prizes we won? The scholarships? It’s been him all this time. And now seeing him with Hattie— Feeling him between my legs— I believe every word he says and more. When his shirt is open, I kiss his chest. I moan as I bite his skin, his fingers sliding inside of me. “More,” I plead, head dizzy. “Please, more.” “How much do you want, love?” “All of it. Everything. I want you inside of me, Rafe.” He lets out a low, wild moan, the edge of his control blurring. “Fuck, baby.” “Now. I want it now.” He pulls me from the desk. It’s a desperate flurry of hands, lips, touching, stroking, moaning. He gets my pants off and strips down to his boxer briefs. He’s so hard and big it shocks me when he flips himself free. I stroke his dick and bite his lower lip, head light and spinning. He grips my hair and turns me, kicking my legs open, and bends me over his desk. “That’s my wife,” he whispers, and there’s real reverence in his tone. “Fuck, look at you. Spread and wet.” His palm covers my pussy possessively. “I’ve been nice to you, baby, but not anymore.” “Rafe, please. No more teasing.” He laughs darkly, spits in his hand, and strokes himself. Oh my god. That’s heaven. That’s hell. It’s more than I can stand. I arch back, wiggling myself, and his tip pushes against my entrance. My core is on fire with need as he slowly, so slowly, starts to fill me.
Fuck... I forgot how big he is. It stretches me wide and hurts at first. But I’m determined. I don’t let him see it as I push back, taking more of him, more and more, letting him fill me to the point of almost breaking. I whimper, his name on my tongue, sweat beading between my breasts— He strokes out. Strokes back in. Nice and slow. Easing me into it. But slow isn’t good enough. “Faster,” I beg, looking over my shoulder. I touch his chest and dig my fingers into his skin. “Fuck me, Rafe. No more waiting.” His face is alight with desire. His nails bite into my hips. “Baby, I don’t want to break you.” “But I want you to. Fuck me, Rafe. God, please, fuck me!” He lets out a roar of pleasure as he drives into my pussy. It feels so good I cry out his name. He strokes in harder, and harder, until he’s fucking me like a beast, driving his massive dick into me hard enough to tear me to pieces. And I take it. I push back, bucking into him, grunting his name and goading him into more. He growls back, pulling my hair, tongue invading my mouth, other hand rubbing my clit in furious circles. I’m in bliss. My eyes roll back. I can barely think as my world sinks down to the space between my legs. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for more of him, more and more, as he fucks me into oblivion. “I want to see—“ He pulls out, and I gasp at the emptiness. “Your fucking face—“ He turns me, lifts me onto the desk, and spreads my legs. “While you come.” He fills me as I lean back on my elbow, spilling more papers to the floor, his laptop turned at an awkward angle, pens scattering. “Oh god, yes,” I moan as he drives himself inside. This time, there’s almost no pain at all. I’m getting used to his enormous size. But I also like the pinch of stretching, the ache of him filling me, the way it wars against the wild sense of pleasure that grows between my legs as he fucks me faster, one hand in my hair, the other holding my hips. We grind, pinned in union. His mouth on mine, on my tits, on my neck. I dig fingers into his muscular, tattooed back. My ankles wrap around his hips. He thrusts in, de eper, de eper, harder, making me bite down on his arm to ke ep from screaming. “Look at you, my fucking wife, my beautiful fucking wife, taking all of my big dick between her legs. You’re such a lovely, filthy thing, and I want to ruin you, June, I want to fucking ruin you.” “Then ke ep going. I’m so close.” “I want to see you come for me, dirty girl. You filthy fucking girl. God, you feel so good.”
His tone trembles, the notes of it warbling with how much he needs. I grind into him, so close I can barely think. “God, yes, please,” I beg, incoherent. “June, baby, I can’t—“ He moans, stroking in de ep. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to come—“ That kills me. This man, this monster, this perfect paragon of control, suddenly losing himself between my legs, because of me. I finally shatter, the explosive orgasm like a bomb in my skull. I feel his warmth, feel him stiffen, coming inside my pussy and it only makes me crumble to dust. I grind, gasping, moaning, unable to think as I’m set on fire. He whispers my name, stroking into me, as I slowly, agonizingly slowly, come back down. His mouth kisses mine, eagerly, hungry, and soft. “Baby,” he whispers. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.” “You feel good.” My eyelids flutter and I’m grinning like an idiot. “Why was I resisting that again?” “You’re stubborn.” “Hm, I thought it was something about you forcing me to marry you?” “Can’t be it.” I laugh, stretching, and gasp when he pulls out. His dick is so big and slick. It’s shiny with me. On impulse, I hop off the desk and lick him clean. His eyes go wide as he watches my tongue flit and lap. “There, all better.” “You’re too much.” “This is what happens when you make me happy.” We dress together, teasing and making small talk. “The room’s a mess,” he says. “Are you complaining?” “Only making an observation. Not going to apologize this time?” I flick his shoulder. “Like hell. You wanted that.” When I try to flick him again, he catches my wrist. “God damn right I did,” he says, tugging me close to press his lips to mine. “I think I should get you a new lunch.” I help him straighten his desk. Unfortunately, the grilled cheese didn’t survive. “I’d like that, but only if you promise to stay and eat with me.” “Are you sure?” “I’m positive.” A flutter rushes in my stomach and I smile shyly. Why are my cheeks flushing? We just had rough, amazing sex—so why am I blushing now that he’s inviting me to eat lunch with him?
“Alright... I think I’d like that too.” He kisses me before I hurry out, grinning to myself, wondering if this is good or if I’m spiraling in the wrong direction, but not really caring anymore.