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a little care, a lot of damage

Penulis: Gemma Rykes
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-08-30 16:26:07

By late afternoon, the estate had finally gone quiet.

Well, not actually quiet.

A place with twenty-four-hour staff was never completely silent. There was always a door closing softly somewhere, cart wheels rolling over the stone paths, the distant hum of a dishwasher from the service wing, security radios crackling far away.

But the guests were gone.

The photographer was gone.

Claudia had gone back to the main house for a conference call.

Valentina had disappeared with her tablet.

Gabby and Al
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  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   turn it over, ruin the day

    “What did he ask?” I swallowed.“Whether they’d ever come in here with you.”I nodded once. “What did you say?”“I told him people from GALA bring family in sometimes, but I don’t know whose kids are whose.” She looked guilty. “I didn’t know he was creepy at the time.”“You didn’t do anything wrong.”“Then yesterday he asked if you still use the same car when you take them places.”I frowned. “Same car?”“Yeah. Exactly like that. ‘Does she still use the same car when she takes the children?’”I looked down at the coffee sleeve in my hand and smoothed the edge with my thumb even though it was already perfectly straight. “And what did you say?”“I told him I didn’t know. I said if it was about business, he should call GALA.”“Good.”“He left.”“What time?”“Yesterday around two-thirty. Maybe two-forty.”“How long was he here?”“Ten minutes.”“Where did he sit?”Elise pointed to a two-person table near the side wall, not by the window. From there, he would’ve had a clear view of the café

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   turning point : san francisco, hold my croissant

    By 9:07, I’m back to being a woman who respected calendars, used the word deliverables without irony, and had never threatened a shirtless billionaire with a skillet.Professionalism.Or denial with dental insurance.I closed the glass conference room door at GALA, set my iPad and coffee on the table, then sat down, my deep espresso dress still successfully hiding every piece of evidence from last night. My hair was still neat in its low bun, and from the outside, no one had any reason to suspect I was walking a little more carefully because an Italian man apparently considered recovery time an urban legend.My phone buzzed.Rafael.A photo.Technically, it had come in earlier, after he dropped Gabby and Al off at preschool wearing Javier’s black T-shirt that had been left in the guest room. I’d only seen the thumbnail: Gabby standing beside Rafael in her crown, posing like preschool had a red carpet, while Al wore his blue backpack and gave a thumbs-up.“I don’t know what you’re avoi

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   one step away from murder

    Concealer exists.The highest mark on my neck was almost invisible now after three thin layers, a little color corrector, and one extremely insincere prayer. The ones on my shoulder didn’t matter because my dress covered them, along with the rest of the evidence located in private territory that would remain strictly between me, God, and Rafael if he ever did this again.The dress I chose fell to my ankles, deep espresso with a cut that was simple but far too good to actually be called simple. It fit neatly at the waist without looking like I’d asked my internal organs to stop functioning, the skirt dropped straight with just enough movement when I walked, and the jewel neckline sat cleanly at the base of my throat, covering almost all of last night’s criminal activity.Practical.Elegant.And hickey-resistant.I slipped tiny gold hoops into my ears, sprayed perfume on my wrists, then studied my reflection one more time. My hair was pulled into a sleek low bun, my skin looked healthy,

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   mirror, mirror, where’s the concealer

    I slept in Rafael’s arms.That should’ve been horrifying enough to wake me up around three in the morning, stare at the ceiling, and launch a full internal investigation complete with a timeline, witnesses, and requests for identity protection.But no.I slept.Actually slept.After all the chaos last night, after my bedroom had turned into a crime scene that would probably require God’s forgiveness and housekeeping with an NDA, Rafael lay behind me with one heavy arm wrapped around my waist, his chest warm against my back.I was awake just long enough to realize how familiar the position felt. Too familiar, actually, because my body immediately settled into his without bothering to ask my brain for approval.I should’ve moved his arm.Told him to go home.At the very least, I should’ve pulled the blanket up to my chin with the dignity of a woman who had just made several highly questionable decisions with her ex-husband, who was now technically her husband again.Instead, I just clos

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   hips don't forget (21+++)

    The slow rhythm didn’t last long.Maybe because I locked my legs tighter around his waist. Maybe because Rafael had been holding back too long, just like he said. Or maybe because the two of us have always been terrible at doing anything halfway...including wrecking every rational decision we’d ever made.Whatever the reason, his next thrust hit harder. I sucked in a sharp breath, and Rafael was already moving again before I could pull a single coherent thought together. His hips found a faster rhythm while his arms stayed locked around me like he refused to leave even an inch of space between us.“Oh, fuck…” His mouth dropped to my neck.His tongue dragged over the skin just under my ear before his teeth caught it lightly, and I immediately fisted the back of his neck, tilting my head to give him more room without a single scrap of pride left.“Rafael…”“Yeah, baby.” He drove in deeper.I moaned against his shoulder, nails digging into his back, and his teeth found that same spot

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   devil I know (21+)

    The kiss should have stopped there.It should have.I already had more than enough reasons to pull back, put a palm against Rafael’s chest, tell him this was a bad idea.But he kissed me again before the part of my brain that still had a Stanford degree managed to take over.My hand was still twisted in his shirt when his mouth came back down on mine, deeper, and I opened for him immediately without being asked. His tongue slid against mine slowly that was way too familiar, completely without hesitation.I grabbed the back of his neck.Rafael made a low sound in his throat, and his hand tightened around my waist.Fuck. I knew that sound. Or my body did.Either way, equally bad.I kissed him harder, my fingers sliding into his dark hair and ruining whatever part of it had still been remotely party-appropriate, while he moved forward until I had to take one step back.My heel hit something.“Oh, fu—” I lost my balance.I landed on the mattress with a soft thump, my black dress riding hi

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Platinum Barbie

    Seven p.m., and Lake Como looked like an expensive postcard that had been photographed to death. Deep blue, almost black. Villa lights scattered messily across the water. A thin veil of fog hovering low, like a cheap Instagram filter no one bothered to turn off.From the study window facing the lak

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   The Wife

    The small pan hissed softly as the oil heated, the sharp scent of roughly crushed garlic already filling the kitchen before I realized I was humming. Fuck.A Shakira song.Wildly off-brand for this morning’s mood, which had gone to hell at five twelve a.m. sharp, when Arsen, the technological basta

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Glass Mansion, Soft Monsters

    Five Years Later.“AL, STOP PULLING MY HAIR, I’M A PRINCESS!”“UGLY PRINCESS!”Something small, warm, and heavy slammed into my waist. Then something else landed on my stomach. I didn’t wake up because of an alarm, but because two tiny bodies decided I was their personal playground.“Oh God,” I ras

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Sunlight and Divorce Papers

    I woke up because the sun slapped me in the face. White-gold light speared through the thin curtains, landing directly on my eyelids that had never volunteered to become solar panels. I blinked slowly, trying to gather the pieces of my soul scattered across the sheets.The clock on the nightstand r

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