Be With Me

by Gabrielle Sands

To all the girls who gave too much and asked for too little—no wonder you prefer the villain who tells you to be selfish while he burns the world to keep you.

“My brother is Rafaele Messero,” she said, her voice breaking as she finally looked at me, “and my fiancé is Cosimo Ferraro.” My heart dropped all the way to my toes. “Messero and Ferraro,” I echoed as my brain scrambled to make sense of what she was saying. Fabi nodded. I swallowed. Hard. “Your family is involved with the mob.” “No, Mia. My family is the mob.”

She was not getting married to Cosimo Ferraro. No way. That man was the heir to the Ferraro family empire. The family who were responsible for my uncle’s death. The family who were at the top of my father’s tough-on-crime crusade.

Slowly, I peeked my head out. Big mistake. A man stood by the door, his powerful frame filling the space, arms crossed over his broad chest, studying me. My stomach dipped. This was him. Romolo Ferraro.

I glanced down and felt my cheeks heat. My dress had gotten twisted during our scuffle, and my white lace bra was showing. His jaw tightened. He yanked the fabric back into place with more force than necessary, but the anger in his expression had been replaced with mild curiosity.

“I’m not a chew toy,” he said through gritted teeth. “Fucking behave.”

“You know, most men have to earn a woman moaning their name, and you definitely haven’t done that.”

Romolo Ferraro was terrifying. But it hadn’t been just fear coursing through me in that bedroom. Or now. My whole body buzzed like a live wire. I felt hot and alive.

“I saw you on TV. You’re all over the news.” I winced. Damn it. “It’s a shame I didn’t place you right away.” His voice dropped lower, became silkier. “If I’d known you were the enemy, I would have enjoyed having you beneath me even more.”

“The door was locked for a reason. We’re busy. Get out.” His voice was so cold that Kassandra visibly recoiled. She sputtered. “I-I didn’t realize⁠—” He stepped forward, crowding her. “A word of advice? Look somewhere else for your assistant. Given the astronomical rate I’m paying Mia, I doubt you can afford her.”

“I’m pretty sure she was born that way,” I whispered. In this light, his eyes were a pale, piercing gray—the color of dense morning fog. “And here I had the impression you were the kind of person who never had a bad word to say about anyone.” I was that kind of person. But something about Romolo made me a little sharper around the edges. I didn’t think I could survive around him if I stayed all soft.

“Guess you don’t know me.” “I’d like to change that.” He lifted his hand and took hold of one of the ends of the bow hanging over my shoulder. There was something sensual about the way he rubbed the gauzy fabric between his forefinger and thumb.

“The men in our world always underestimate women,” Fabi said.

Mia Morales was almost too perfect.

Mia thought she could handle me, then. It looked like arrogance ran in her family. I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. She had no idea who she’d just invited into her life. But she’d learn. Oh, she’d learn.

“Morning,” I drawled, masking the gut-punch of arousal. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d found a woman this attractive. It pissed me off. I wasn’t worried it would interfere with my plans, but it was a distraction. An annoying one.

She opened her sketchbook and turned it toward me. The way she leaned forward gave me a tantalizing glimpse down her blouse. Suddenly, I was wide awake, every cell in my body hyperaware of her. Fuck. I’ve seen enough tits for two lifetimes. At this point, a good rack was like a well-made whiskey cocktail at the club—appreciated, sure, but nothing that stopped me in my tracks. Except hers, apparently.

“Before either of us were born. Your dad really knows how to hold a grudge, huh?” “He only wants justice.” “He was happy enough living without it for more than half of his life. You know there has to be something else.” She seemed confused. “Something else? I don’t know what you mean.”

Those featherlight touches sent sparks all the way down to my cock. It was ridiculous. What the fuck was going on with me? On paper, Mia wasn’t my type. I didn’t chase good girls or get off on the idea of luring them into my world. Women were either part of the job or one-night stands to take the edge off. Mia was just another job. And yet, my reaction to her was throwing me for a fucking loop.

Jesus. She just couldn’t help herself. She was even trying to save me. "What happens when you stop rescuing the people around you?" I asked, watching the way her frown deepened, tugging at the corners of her lips. She hesitated. "I don’t know what you mean." “You care too much. Have you ever been selfish, or is that word foreign to you?" I tilted my head, studying her. "You’re such a fucking good girl—practically a caricature."

Her eyes widened. Was she surprised I could read her so easily? She was an open fucking book. "Romolo," she said, voice tight. "Let go of me." I leaned in, lowering my voice. "I’ll let you in on a secret." My grip tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure she was listening. "Not everyone deserves to be taken care of." Her breath hitched. "That’s a sad way to look at life."

“Do you think it’s a burden? Taking care of people?” She tried again to pull away. “Because it’s not. I like doing it.” “Oh yeah?” I inched forward, closing the distance between us. “Tell me…who takes care of you?” Her lips parted, but nothing came out. I could see the way my words were sinking in, making her think. Making her wonder.

Those lips. Those goddamn lips. I wanted to bite into them. To find out what they tasted like.

When was the last time a woman touched you like this? a voice in the back of my mind whispered. It wasn’t sexual, just…intimate. So why the fuck was this such a turn-on?

While she wasn’t looking, I swiped her lip gloss off her desk and shoved it into my pocket. Why? Fuck if I knew. Probably because I was losing my goddamn mind.

I walked out of there frustrated, feeling like I'd lost the round. Next time I came back, I was going to make sure I got some sleep. Because this game between us was only getting started.

She and my dad got married two years after my mom died. They immediately started trying to have a baby, but nothing happened. After a year, they turned to IVF. It was around the same time my dad sat me down and told me I was being sent abroad. He never said it outright, but I know part of the reason was due to my stepmom. My dad worked late most nights, so she was the one who took care of school pickups and drop-offs. The one who shuttled me to my after-school activities. The one who filled the space my mom left behind.

“You look worried.” My gaze jumped to my dad. “I am, I guess.” About him. About Fabi. And maybe—God help me—even about Romolo, which made no sense. Not everyone deserves to be taken care of. That’s what he thought about himself. How did someone get to that conclusion?

I was curious about him. About why he reacted so strongly to me offering him just a bit of help. Beneath all that cocky armor, there was something vulnerable. Something he tried hard to hide.

If my dad got his way, Romolo Ferraro wouldn’t just be a dangerous enigma. He’d be behind bars, along with his family.

gave her the highlight reel, carefully skimming over the part where he’d almost kissed me. Because that? I wasn’t ready to admit that had happened. The memory made me feel played—like I’d walked into a trap I should have seen coming. It was exactly the kind of move someone like Romolo Ferraro would pull. He hadn’t meant anything by it. I knew that. He was trying to mess with me. Get under my skin. So why had I considered—just for a moment—letting him do it? I really was an idiot. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, fluttering my wings dangerously close to the heat.

“Oh shit.” Zo froze mid-step, the excitement in her expression shifting into something sharper. “What?” I asked. “You’re not going to believe who’s here.” A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. I turned. Across the room, a familiar pair of gray eyes locked onto mine.

Everyone except me. I didn’t play by the fucking rules. Something Mia was about to find out. I checked behind a few of the doors—empty bedrooms. Halfway down the hall, I stopped. A familiar scent lingered in the air. Lily of the valley.

"What do you think the news outlets will say when they see how the next mayor’s daughter dresses when she’s off duty?" I squeezed my fist into her dress, pulling the fabric taut around her waist. She had the kind of body that turned heads. My muscles strained from the effort it took not to grind against her. “Kind of goes against all those wholesome family values your dad loves to preach about, doesn’t it?" Whatever hint of arousal might have been there in her expression moments earlier disappeared in a flash. “You’re an asshole." Betrayal ran through her eyes, and it fascinated me. Because it implied some part of her had trusted me. Even if just a little. Jesus Christ. How the fuck was she still alive and walking around with that kind of naïveté?

I should have been pleased. Should have been thrilled that I had her right where I wanted her. Instead, something twisted in my chest. All I could think about was how she’d look at me when she heard the words. Whatever fragile illusions she still had about me would shatter. It was ridiculous. I’d trapped my prey, had her exactly where I needed her. And yet, something held me back from delivering the final blow. Maybe it was because there was something else I wanted from her. Something I wanted more.

I should’ve told her I’d delete the picture in exchange for her father’s secrets. But instead, my mouth—completely disconnected from my better judgment—said, “I want you to kiss me. And not just some fucking peck. I want you to kiss me and mean it.”

But he only made it two steps. His knees buckled. He caught himself before he fully collapsed, his hands slamming into the mud, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. My heart broke. Something about seeing him like this made me want to weep. I crouched down beside him, ignoring the way the wet earth soaked my bare legs, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” His fingers curled into the dirt. “Leave me alone.” His voice was so low I could barely hear it over the storm.

Lightning cracked above us, illuminating his face. He looked lost. What happened to you, Romolo?

“I said leave me.” My voice was raw. She wasn’t supposed to see me like this. No one was. And no one had, not since that night. I’d shut the emotional valve off inside my head back then, and it hadn’t opened. Not until now. “I’m not going to do that.”

My eyes squeezed shut. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. Her wet cheek pressed against my own. She was as drenched as I was, but still warm somehow. Still trying to comfort me. That night, I’d almost begged for this. I'd just wanted someone to hold me, to tell me it would be okay. But no one did. No one ever did.

I stared at her bare knees plunked into the muddy grass. I’d been an utter asshole to her in the car. And she was still doing what she always did—taking care of people. I tried to summon some disgust at that. I couldn't. The truth was…nothing about her disgusted me. She just stirred up a whirlwind of strange, fucked-up emotions when she proved to me, again and again, that her goodness wasn’t fake.

Her eyes searched mine. “What happened to you?” she asked again. I couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t let her inside that part of me. The ugliest, darkest part. But the walls I’d spent years building around it were weak now. Punctured. And the way she looked at me—with no pity, no judgment, just quiet concern—made the words slip out. “A while back, I ran my car into a lake. Almost drowned. Driving in the rain made me—” I swallowed hard, shaking my head. I sounded like a fucking idiot.

We stayed like that until my body felt like it was back to normal. But I feared nothing would ever be normal again.

I found his current state of disarray to be charming. His usual polished exterior was gone. He was unfiltered. Sulking. Grumpy. But real. I liked real.

“Mia?” “Yeah?” A beat passed. “Can you keep a secret?” He didn’t want anyone to know about what had happened back there. That he’d cracked open, even for a moment. “Yeah.” His gaze lingered on my face, warming my cheek. “Thanks.”

Romolo tapped his fingers against the railing, slowly and rhythmically, the only other sound apart from the ocean. “You told them.” It was a statement, not a question. Tension marred his jaw as he stared—no, glared at the water. That’s when it dawned on me. He had never actually thought I’d keep his secret. He probably didn’t trust people. Not unless they’d been bribed, forced, or otherwise coerced into doing what he wanted.

And here I was, about to confirm his sad, depressing worldview. An ache pulsed inside my chest. If I used this against him, if I turned this into a negotiation to get that photo deleted, I’d be giving him one more reason to believe the world worked exactly the way he thought it did.

My heart was placed firmly on my sleeve, which meant it got hurt. Often. But I could live with my own pain. It was the pain of others I didn’t know how to handle.

“How did you explain what happened? Why we showered as soon as we got home?” “I said I had a panic attack and forced you to let me out of the car. They know my history. They believed it.” He frowned. “You lied on my behalf?” “I don’t feel great about it. I don’t like lying to my friends.” “And yet you did.” “I made you a promise.”

But my body had other plans. I leaned back, letting my head fall against his shoulder. He made a sound of satisfaction, low and deep, the kind a person makes when a puzzle piece fits. Then he pulled my hips back against his. He was hard. “Your fucking scent.” The words rumbled in his chest. “It drives me crazy.”