A Dance of War

by Ellie R. Hunter

  “No, it’s not. Carry on.”

  “Your guards are dead, and you want to mosey on inside where we’re most likely going to be trapped?”

  When he finally looks at me, the battle between us seems to grow. I learn very quickly. I’ve had no choice but to stay alive and hold on to the head position in the family around men who think they can do better. I learn he wants to retreat until we have the men to send in and investigate for me, all without him saying a word. That may be how he works, but it’s not how I do things.

  “This estate is mine, and I will not be deterred by anyone. Drive.”

  “Sometimes, I think you want to die,” he mutters, putting the car in gear.

  As he drives along, my eyes dart everywhere—behind every bush, every tree. And as we get closer, to every window, looking for moving shadows.

  “It’s too quiet.”

  “Probably because no one’s here,” I counter.

  “Who’s that?” he asks, lifting a finger from the wheel, pointing to the main doors.

  I smile at the round-bellied man and say, “My cook, Sebastian.”

  He’s alive, his terror evident. If there was danger here, he would give me a sign. He starts to come over as I climb out of the car.

  “Ms. Camarco, I heard shots, and the guards aren’t answering my calls!”

  This man, always so calm, is trembling with fear.

  “They’re dead, Sebastian. Did no one come to the house?”

  Shaking his head, his curly hair bounces with the movement. “No, Ms. Camarco, no one came inside.”

  Placing my hand on his arm, I nudge him until he gets the hint to go inside while Raphael scopes out the surroundings as he joins us, locking the door behind him.

  “Call all the staff here, please. I wish to make an announcement.”

  With a curt nod, he dashes away, and I hang my purse on the stair banister.

  “Were you always this calm when I came after you?” Raphael murmurs from where he stands, looking out the window.

  “You can’t make decisions clearly with an irrational mind. There’s no point in overreacting when the outcome is your own doing.”

  Besides, if I lost my mind every time Raphael came for me, I wouldn’t make it out of bed every morning.

  “True.” He turns to me, seeming not to be worried a threat is near. “With no one coming to the house, I’m thinking the two guards and open gates were a message that they can get through if they wanted.”

  “I agree. But what they don’t know is that I left two guards on duty this morning as a test. They’re predictable, a bit like you, which makes it better for us. We can prepare for the unexpected, and won’t be caught off guard.”

  “You don’t seem too upset that two of your men are dead,” he points out.

  “I am, but they knew the risks when they took up their posts. They knew if the worst happened to them, I would look after their families. Roberto has a wife but no children. He should have retired and hung up his gun long ago, but he chose to stay on because he didn’t want me being a man down. I will give her enough money so she doesn’t have to worry for however long she has left. Nickolas has a wife and three children, and he approached me for work, knowing that if anything should happen to him, I’d look after them. There’s certain things men fight for, and one of them are their families. They know I’ll keep my word and see that their families are adequately looked after. I’ll subsidise his wife until she finds work that gives them a decent way of life, and I’ll set up trust funds for each child.”

  “A lot of your men have died over the years. That’s a lot of families to look after.”

  “Children are the future of Vita, Raphael. It’s bad enough they lose their fathers, and seeing as money isn’t important to me, I use it to help others.”

  Cupping my cheek, his blue eyes sparkle as the sun pours in through the windows.

  “You were always more concerned with others than yourself. You haven’t changed, not really.”

  Stepping away from him, his hand drops to his side.

  “It’s why I was born. Just because peace was never settled between us, didn’t mean I couldn’t ease this life they led because of us in other ways.”

  His mouth opens, but he closes it when Mary leads the staff through from the kitchen.

  They form a line and I step forward, making sure their eyes are on me and not Raphael, wondering why he’s here, again.

  “By now, you will have heard many rumours about the situation between the Camarco’s and Marocchi’s. It’s true that we’ve agreed to peace, but we’re now having to fight a new enemy. As of today, I want you all to go home to your families and stay there until I call you back. This fight isn’t going to be like what we’re used to, and this estate is going to be a target. I don’t want a single one of you falling.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, and I speak for everyone here, our place is with you.”

  Smiling fondly, I move closer and reach out for Mary’s hand. Her hand is soft, much softer of that belonging to a soldier.

  “I lost two guards at the gate today. I can’t bear to think of what could’ve happened if the attackers had made their way into the house. You would’ve had no protection. I need every one of my soldiers out on the streets, and you’ll be safer in your homes.”

  “This estate has been home to us for most of our lives. We worked for your father, and though many of us didn’t care for him, we would’ve helped protect the estate, and especially you.”

  My fond smile grows to one of pride as I swallow the lump of foreboding lodged in my throat. The row of people before me are more than staff. They’re the closest thing I have to a family.

  “Mary, don’t make me give you an order. I want you all alive and safe. I’ll have the estate guarded, but it won’t be by you. Go home, kiss your husband, and tell him I said to keep his hands out of the cookie jar.”

  This makes her laugh. Her husband was diagnosed with diabetes over a year ago, so he gives Mary grief by not sticking to his new diet. Many times, I’ve listened to her barking at him on the phone, warning him of the trouble he’ll be in when she gets home.

  She surprises me by coming closer and throwing her arms around me. I still for a moment before hugging her back. Releasing me, she steps back and brushes down her uniform.

  “Very well. But if you’re sending us home, you’d better look after yourself. You need to be careful of the devils you let into the house.”

  I bite my lip to keep from grinning, knowing she’s talking about Raphael and his men.

  “This Devil thinks with his heart. He’s harmless.”

  Snorting, Raphael walks into my office as the staff shuffle out to grab their belongings. I wait by the door to make sure they all leave.

  The house is usually quiet at any time of the day, even when the full staff is buzzing about, but with only Raphael and I here, the silence is deafening.

  Needing to get out of yesterday’s clothes, I take the stairs up to my room, take a quick shower, and dress accordingly, wanting to be ready for anything.

  It’s been a while since I’ve worn jeans or sweaters, or boots with a heel less than five inches. Putting my hair up into a ponytail, I turn to find Raphael standing in the middle of my room. Shit. I didn’t even hear him come in.

  With no staff around, I need to be more aware of my surroundings. I watch on as he takes in the large wooden bed frame and deep red sheets. He moves around gracefully and stops at my nightstand. He picks up my bible, the one I’ve had since I was a child.

  “For someone so close to God, you do sin a hell of a lot, Mila.”

  “I always repent,” I huff.

  I’m always being told I’m a part of a prophecy, one I’ve ignored by bringing death to many. I’d like to think the Almighty appreciates all the good I do in between.

  Flipping it open, he finds the black rose I had saved.

  “You’re a liar, Mila.”

  “I’m no such thing.�
��

  Slamming the bible closed, he tosses it onto the bed and stalks toward me.

  “I bend the knee to you, yet you still can’t tell me truthfully that you think of me. Why else would you keep this rose? Is there someone else who sends you black roses?”

  He’s so close, I can feel his breath hit my face, but I can’t move. I’m tired of being the one always moving away from him.

  “Don’t read anything into it. I like the colour, and the flower.”

  Tsking, he wraps his hand around the back of my neck, making my skin tingle everywhere. “Lying again, Mila. I’ll tell you something, you’re not any good at it. You never could lie to me.”

  Leaning down, I close my eyes as he rests his forehead against mine, making my heart pound so hard, it makes me dizzy. I should be shoving him away, putting as much distance between us as I possibly can. Even better, leaving the room and him behind.

  Yet I stand there, remembering happier times when his lips press against mine.

  They feel different from my memories I’ve held on to for so long. He’s more aggressive as he tries to part my lips with his tongue. He was always soft and filled with passion in the most tender of ways. Squeezing the back of my neck, he pulls me flush against him, and that’s when I wrap my arms around his neck. Parting my lips, I allow myself to become lost in Raphael Marocchi once again. We’re not kids this time, and we both know exactly what we’re doing.

  The absence of his hand on my skin leaves me cold as he takes hold of the backs of my legs and hoists me up, urging me to wrap them around his waist. I comply, grinding myself against him.

  A low, deep growl vibrates into my mouth, and I know for certain that this Raphael—the man, and not boy—is more of a man than any others I’ve been with.

  Once again, everything falls into place. The longer this kiss continues, the deeper I sink into his embrace.

  “Jamila!”

  Like a cold shower dowsing me, I break away from Raphael, trying to decipher where Trey is calling me from.

  When Cristian calls out, “Raphe!” Raphael lowers me down his body, making sure I feel just how much he enjoyed our kiss.

  “Jamila!” Trey’s voice is clearer this time, causing panic to set in.

  It’s no one’s business what goes on in my room, but I don’t want anyone questioning me.

  “This never happened,” I mutter, walking out of the room.

  “Oh, but it did, and it’s not something I’m likely to forget, ever.”

  Trey and Cristian are standing at the bottom of the stairs as we descend, both on their phones, no doubt trying to track us down. They both look up when Raphael clears his throat.

  Cristian smirks, and Trey’s eyes narrow at Raphael.

  I ignore the frostiness coming from Trey, and I’m grateful when Cristian gives us their update.

  “Bodies are dropping fast out there on both sides.”

  “How many of ours, how many of theirs?” I ask, falling into my chair behind my desk.

  “Twenty of ours, ten of theirs. It was quiet all morning, and then in the last hour, the mood shifted.”

  Twenty men down. That’s a lot, but still a figure we can deal with.

  “We heard DiMarco is still held up in the church with a band of his men,” Trey mumbles.

  He’s sharper than this, but if this mood change is because of jealously, we’re going to have words.

  “Then we blow it up,” Raphael suggests, leaning against the doorframe.

  “No we will not!” I snap. My lips may still tingle, his taste still clinging to my tongue, but it isn’t affecting my senses. “That church has stood for two hundred years, and it will not fall because being trigger-happy is the easiest option. It will still stand long after we take down DiMarco.”

  “You can’t think with your heart, Mila. We both agreed we had to move fast to take him out, and this is fastest way.”

  “My heart has nothing to do with it, Raphael.” Rolling his eyes, he crosses the room and takes a seat on the couch. “We’ll find another way to get to him.”

  When Trey hands me a drink, I look up at him, noticing his frosty attitude hasn’t thawed yet.

  “You say you heard he only has a few men with him. Find out where his soldiers are holed up. They must have somewhere they meet to rest and regroup. We find them, we can take down everyone around him,” Raphael surmises.

  “That was your plan for me, and it didn’t work out so well.”

  “Trey is the last one standing, is he not?”

  “Yes, but it took you ten years.”

  “Come on, now, we can’t be arguing between ourselves,” Cristian scolds, helping himself to a drink.

  “My intentions are different this time.”

  “How?”

  “Because they’re not you.”

  Trey huffs beside me, and it’s a sign of his jealously gone too far. Pushing up out of the chair, I jerk my head for him to follow, ignoring Raphael’s mocking smirk as I pass.

  Out in the hall, Trey follows me into the kitchen, and I turn on him sharply.

  “Tell me now what your problem is.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t act like a child. You’ve been acting like a jealous lover for far too long, and I’m over it.”

  He’s the complete opposite of Raphael, which is what I used to like about him. I hated anyone who reminded me of him in any way.

  “No matter what you say, he’s been trying to kill you for years, and then he bends the knee, throws you a few lines, and you’re up in your room with him. It’s like you’ve forgotten who he is. He surrendered to you. You should be keeping him at arm’s length, not attaching your mouth to his.”

  My hand flies through the air, crashing against his cheek. He doesn’t budge, or blink.

  “How dare you!” I seethe, trying my damnedest to keep my cool. “He bent the knee, making him our biggest ally. He has men—”

  “Yeah, who work for you now.”

  “And if I were to bend the knee, you know my men would still look to me first for direction. We need him to fight DiMarco.”

  He physically bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing into slits.

  “I swore to protect you from him, but I can’t protect you from yourself. Falling for his smooth words of the history you shared, whatever the fuck that might have been, is a mistake.”

  Our history. No one knows our history, and sometimes I feel like I forget most of it. But history is to be learned from so the same mistakes are avoided. A kiss shared with Raphael doesn’t change anything. A kiss can simply be a kiss.

  “You’ve trusted my word and advice for a long time, Mila. Don’t go deaf to that now because he’s here.”

  I watch his back as he leaves the room, and I listen to his footsteps as he climbs the stairs and slams his door shut.

  Like I said, a kiss can simply be a kiss. One kiss with Raphael doesn’t erase over a decade of hatred.

  Out on the back patio, the sun is setting, with the heater offering the warmth the sun is taking with it for the night. Lifting my wine glass, I sip the rich red liquid and close my eyes to the echoes of gunshots ringing out across the city.

  “How long have you been sleeping with Trey?”

  Opening my eyes, I find Raphael staring at me intently from across the table. I haven’t seen Trey since our moment in the kitchen, and unless he’s called upon, I don’t think I’ll see him till morning.

  “Who says I’m sleeping with him?”

  “The way he acts around you. He doesn’t like me near you, or even talking to you.”

  “That’s because we’re enemies.”

  “We were,” he corrects. “How long?”

  Not that it’s any of his business, I decide to indulge him with an answer. “For the last ten years.”

  The blue in his eyes is always so bright, it intrigues me when they darken. More jealousy to deal with. Great.

  “Has
he been the only one?”

  “What’s with all the questions about my private life, Raphael? You didn’t honestly think I’d spend my life never being touched by a man because you broke my heart?”

  He throws back the rest of his wine and slams the glass down on the table.

  “No, I didn’t, but I hoped.”

  My brows pull together when I see he’s telling the truth.

  “Why have hope? You must have slept with other women, because I felt earlier that your dick hasn’t shrivelled off.”

  As much as he hates to, he smiles and pours himself another glass.

  “I had hope because it was always my intention to get you back.”

  “You had a funny way of showing it. Ten years is a long time to be alone, and it’s far too long to go without pleasure.”

  “And did you? Find pleasure with him?”

  “You’re going too far now,” I warn.

  “When it comes to you, there’s no such thing.”

  Sitting forward, I place my glass on the table and tilt my head, trying to work him out without having to ask a hundred questions, hoping to gain truthful answers.

  “Love conquers hatred,” he murmurs.

  “Is that what you feel for me? Love?”

  He slowly pushes up from his chair and takes his time walking around the table until he stops before me and crouches down.

  “You think I’d drop to my knee for anyone else? Shit went bad for a while, but I’ve always loved you. When I thought you were dead…” He shakes his head as if trying to clear out the memories. “I’m not wasting another moment when it comes to you. You’ve always been my Mila, I just haven’t been your Raphael.”

  I once believed I knew when he was being truthful, and tonight, the way he speaks is just like those times, but I was proven wrong, or so I thought.

  “The day your parents were killed, my father called me into his office. My initiation was to give the nod to have our men shoot your father to death. At the time, following our plan, I thought it couldn’t have worked out better for us. My father was pleased I acted with my head and not my heart, and then dismissed me. However, before I could leave the room, he informed me you and your mother were in the car too. He told me he knew about us meeting up, and he took delight in making sure I believed I had killed you. Do you want to know what I did when I left his office?”