Rafael didn't sleep. Not after that.
Aurora lay beside him in the dark, her breathing soft but uneven, like her mind refused to shut off no matter how exhausted her body was. She kept her back to him, wrapped in nothing but the silk sheet and silence. But he knew she was awake. Just like him.
He lit a cigarette. The flame briefly lit the scar across his chest—an old wound from a bullet meant for someone else. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
"I need to know his name," Aurora finally whispered.
He didn't answer at first.
Then: "Emilio Vargas."
She turned slowly, the name clearly unfamiliar. "I don't know who that is."
"You wouldn't. He disappeared before you were old enough to remember him." Rafael flicked ash into the tray. "But he's the reason your father bled out on marble steps with your mother screaming over him."
Aurora's voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "Why?"
Rafael's jaw tightened. "Because he wanted to take over the De Luca empire. And your father refused to kneel."
A beat passed.
"Why didn't he come for me before?"
"He thought you were dead. The moment you went into hiding, your mother made sure all traces of you vanished. I didn't even know until a year ago." Rafael turned toward her now, eyes dark in the faint light. "But I wasn't the only one searching."
Her lips parted. "He knows?"
"He knows enough," Rafael said. "And now that you've been seen with me, he'll come."
Her breath caught.
"And when he does," Rafael added, sliding out of bed and pulling a drawer open to reveal a gun, "I'll put him in the ground."
She sat up, the sheet slipping from her bare chest. "You don't get to make that decision for me."
Rafael's gaze snapped to her body—and stayed there. "I'll make any fucking decision that keeps you alive."
"You don't own my life just because you bought my body."
He crossed the room in two strides and yanked the sheet off her completely. "I don't want your body anymore, Aurora. I want your soul. Your loyalty. Your submission."
She slapped him. Hard.
His head turned, his cheek reddening. But when he looked back at her, it wasn't anger burning in his eyes.
It was need.
In one sudden, furious motion, he threw her onto the bed and pinned her wrists again, just like before—but this time, his mouth didn't go to hers. It went lower.
Much lower.
She gasped as his tongue slid over her core, hot and relentless. She squirmed, but he held her in place, growling against her skin. "I'm going to make you forget everything but me."
"Rafael—"
"Say it," he demanded.
She clenched around nothing, breathless. "Say what?"
"My name. While I'm inside you."
Before she could argue, he was already there—two fingers curling deep inside her while his tongue circled her clit like he was worshipping it. Her hips bucked wildly, her thighs squeezing his head, but he didn't stop. He licked her until she shattered, screaming into the pillow as her climax ripped through her.
And then he flipped her over.
"On your knees," he ordered, already hard again.
She obeyed.
Without warning, he slammed into her from behind, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip so tight it would leave bruises.
She moaned, loud and desperate.
"You're mine," he snarled in her ear, each thrust harder than the last. "Say it."
"I—fuck—Rafael—"
"Say it."
She was trembling, nearly incoherent from the second orgasm building inside her. But she said it.
"I'm yours," she gasped. "I'm fucking yours."
That did it. He groaned her name like a curse, spilled into her, and collapsed on top of her, both of them shaking.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then he whispered something against her skin.
"He's coming for you in three days."
Aurora froze.
Rafael kissed her shoulder, then stood. "But if Emilio Vargas wants to touch what's mine… he'll have to step over my dead body."