Bambina

31. Questioned authority

I step out of the sleek, black Lamborghini, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged bird desperate to break out. I've lost my little self, lost her out of fear, fear of being judged, fear of hearing those comments again. I've heard them too many times to count. 

Raphaelle is quickly beside me, reaching out for my hand, holding it tight. I can't help but feel a shiver as we approach the entrance of his club. I should've gotten used to the place by now, but it still makes me nervous. I'm still reminded of the night we met. Of what he said the day after... to Danielle. 

Raphaelle, his presence a magnetic force that draws everyone's attention to him like a moth to flame. He is the epitome of power and danger, and I know that. I shouldn't be surprised, but I always am. It's the perplexing contrast of this man. It's peculiar. 

His dark gaze pierces through the dimly lit room as if he looks for something... or rather someone.

He holds my hand with a possessiveness that takes my breath away. His touch is gentle yet commanding, as always. 

I am his, body and soul, nothing else matters but him. Not when I'm with him. I only have eyes for him. I become blinded to the brutality that surrounds him. All I see is his heart, warm, hiding behind this gruff mask. 

As we navigate through the throngs of people, his presence shields me from prying eyes and intrusive questions. I left the Barbies in the car. Somehow I'm thankful for that. Barbies in a place like this... even though I'm with him, I'm afraid the looks would be... too much anyway. 

I steal glances at him, admiring the way his tailored suit hugs his powerful frame, the way his dark hair is combed to the side. He's so elegant, despite his not so elegant job. 

I reminisce about the first time we met, the way he looked at me with such a scolding glare. He didn't even know me. Yet he seemed to know me better than myself. It made no sense. And it pissed me off. 

Back then, I never would've imagined myself falling for someone like him, someone so enigmatic and dangerous. But I had already fallen, for his looks anyway. His looks, I had never seen anyone as handsome. 

And despite my doubts, despite not thinking I could be what he wanted, he's peeled away the layers of my insecurities, revealing a strength and resilience I never knew I possessed. I would've never agreed to sippy's and princess bikinis back then. I'd turn on my heels, yell at him, tell him he's crazy, all out of fear. Of myself. 

We settle into a secluded booth, his hand never strays far from mine, a silent warning to everyone around us, that I'm not to be messed with. 

The atmosphere in the club is electric, pulsating with the thumping bass of the music and the hushed murmurs of conversations. But it's less crowded here, less loud. And it's about to get down in business. Italian... I won't understand anything. And these men, I haven't seen them before. Either, they don't belong to him, or they are of lower rank. I hope for the latter. 

His eyes never leave me, not for a second. It's as if he's trying to read my every detail, every nuance of my being. And in return, I find myself drowning in his gaze.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "breathe. They won't hurt you. They just look because you're beautiful."

His lips find mine in a searing kiss, letting them all know. And my cheeks work as a confirmation, that I am his. I'll always be his. 

I feel so safe. Safe in his love, safe in his protection. And I love how it makes me feel. 

Raphaelle's dominance is unquestioned. He sits here, cold, hard... the only reason I feel safe beside him is because he's touching me. That's the only thing left of the man I love. The only reason I know he's in there, somewhere.