He Wants Me Dead Or Alive

Rosa’s POVI knew the second we pulled up to the penthouse that my stupid little Kylie act was about to crash and burn spectacularly.I tried everything. I crossed my arms, planted my feet, told Raffaele I wasn’t stepping foot inside that glass tower because “I have my own place, thanks very much.” He just raised one perfect eyebrow, opened the passenger door like a gentleman assassin, and said, “Get out of the car, Kylie, or I carry you. I know you live here.”I got out. Fast.The elevator ride up felt like a funeral procession. Him leaning against the mirrored wall, arms folded, watching me like I was a puzzle he already solved. Me staring at the floor numbers like they owed me money.The doors slid open.And there she was.“ROSA!!” Kylie shrieked, bare feet slapping marble as she flew toward me, tears streaming, arms wide. “You’re alive! Oh my God, you’re alive!”I let out the fakest, squeakiest “Yaaay” in history, mostly because Raffaele’s stare was burning holes through the back

Rosa’s POVMy mouth was still hanging open like an idiot when I finally found my voice. “What the hell are you doing here, Raffaele?”He tilted his head, that infuriating half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’d been waiting for the question all morning. “I’m here to see you, of course.”Mateo cleared his throat behind us, shifting his weight. “Rosa, maybe we should—”“Later,” I cut him off without looking back, fingers already curling around Raffaele’s wrist. I yanked hard, dragging the six-foot-three wall of trouble toward the locker room corridor. He let me pull him, amused, like a panther deciding to humor a kitten.I shoved open the nearest door, hauled him inside, and slammed it shut. The echo bounced off the tiled walls. We were alone in the dim fluorescent light, surrounded by the faint smell of sweat and liniment.He glanced around, then back at me, smirk widening. “Wow. I didn’t know you liked enclosed spaces.”I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw yesterday.

Rosa’s POVI couldn’t stand him being in that house a second longer, breathing the same air as Mom and Stevie, acting like he belonged at our table with his polished shoes and his dangerous smile. My fingers dug into his arm as I dragged him out the front door, the wood creaking under the force of my shove. The night air hit us cool and sharp, but it did nothing to calm the fire raging in my chest.“Go,” I snarled, pointing down the walkway like he was a stray dog. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”Raffaele didn’t budge. He just stood there on the porch, hands casually in his pockets, that smile creeping across his face slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t a nice smile… it was the kind that promised things I didn’t want to think about, dark edges hidden under charm. “Come with me instead,” he said, voice low and even. “I’ll drop you off at school so you can pack your things, then you’re coming home with me to my penthouse.”I barked out a laugh, but th

Raffaele’s POV The penthouse felt different up here, away from the girls downstairs. Luca’s space was all sleek lines and dark wood, a mirror of our family’s world, but with Kylie’s touches scattered around: a soft throw blanket on the couch, fresh flowers on the bar cart. It made the place feel almost human, which was more than I could say for most of our properties. I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city lights sprawling below like a web of secrets, while Luca moved to the cabinet and pulled out the good stuff. Cognac, aged thirty years. He poured two generous measures into crystal glasses, the amber liquid catching the dim lamp glow. “I’ve never questioned your decisions,” Luca said, handing me one without meeting my eyes. His voice was steady, but I caught the undercurrent, the brotherly caution he always wrapped in loyalty. I took the glass, swirling it once before bringing it to my lips. The warmth hit my throat, spreading like a quiet fire

Rosa’s POVIt’s been two days since Raffaele left and I already feel like I’ve been living in someone else’s skin. Two days of training until my muscles screamed, two days of pretending everything was normal, two days of telling myself I was finally free. Then this morning I drove past my mom’s house just to check, just to breathe easier seeing the street quiet and ordinary. Except it wasn’t. Two black SUVs parked half a block away, tinted windows, engines idling like they had nowhere else to be. I circled the block twice and watched one of the drivers lift a phone to his ear the second I passed. They weren’t there to protect anyone. They were there to make sure I didn’t move my family, didn’t pull them out of reach, didn’t disappear with them in the middle of the night. Such a psych move. Kind on the surface, controlling underneath. If only I could see his smug face right now so I could drive my fist straight into it.I slammed the gym door harder than necessary when I arrived for