Page 48 of Married to the Devil

“You better. I swear, Rafe. I’ll cut your throat, you do that again.”

“God, you’re so beautiful right now.”

“What the fuck?”

“Our daughter is amazing, you know.”

“I know that, you dick.” She hesitates, looking over at Hattie. “You made her breakfast?”

“Like I said, she was hungry.”

“And you let her call you… Rafey?”

I scrub a hand over my jaw. “I figure that’s better than Mr. Rafe.”

“So long as she’s never calling you Dad…” She trails off, and I don’t know why, but that hurts. I hadn’t expected the sudden shock to strike me in the chest, but it’s like a kick.

And I realize I want Hattie to call me Dad.

Maybe not now… not when we’ve only first met… but one day.

“She is my daughter.”

“You’re a sperm donor at best.” June flinches and holds up a hand. “Okay, that was needlessly mean.”

I lean in, lowering my voice. “You enjoyed every moment of my donation, wife of mine.”

Her cheeks flush pink and her mouth opens. Then she’s setting her jaw. “Don’t do that, asshole. We slept together one time and it was just fine.”

I catch her wrist before she walks off. I hold it tight, mouth finding her ear. “It was fucking heaven and you know it. You’ve been playing with yourself for years thinking about my big dick filling you to the fucking brim. You can lie to me, but don’t lie to yourself. You’d happily let me ruin you again if you weren’t so stubborn and afraid you’d want more.”

She steps aside, breathing fast, and I let her go. Her eyes are wide, and there’s no sharp retort, no fresh comeback, no denial. Instead, her face burns, and she storms off back to Hattie and collapses into the chair across from our daughter.

I leave them. I don’t want to. I’d rather stay and listen to Hattie explain her space-pony-unicorn-war story or whatever it is she’s building.

But I don’t have time to stand here any longer. I’ve already cut my exercise allotment in half.

How is this happening? Why would I rather talk to a child than administer the empire I’ve fought for so hard?

I remember what it was like, back in the early days. When Devlin and Kellan were so young, especially Devlin. He was a child, barely over ten when our house burned. I didn’t know him that well—we’d basically grown up in different eras of the family—but I was forced to figure out how to take care of him.

It was fucking hard. There were painful days, especially as he got older and the Corvino operation grew, but I sacrificed. I gave everything to my brothers. And in the end, I’m proud of who they’ve become, proud of the men they are.

Like I’ll be proud of Hattie, no matter what she grows into.

And I want to be there. I want to see her become a person.

I’m shaken as I leave the kitchen, not sure what’s happening or how I’ll handle it.

15

RAFE

The air smells like ocean even though we’re not exactly on the coast. I stroll along the wall’s perimeter on the outside of the protective ring. The pines loom, strange and knobby, tightly packed.

Devlin and Kellan walk with me. Devlin somewhat ahead, Kellan at my side. My youngest brothers got in an hour ago, right after I finished my workout.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” Kellan says, tone gruff and low. He’s thick, covered in muscle, littered with scars from dozens of fights. “Not a fan of the country houses.”