In His Shadow: Loving a Mafia Leader

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Chapter 10

Sheryl's POV

I dragged my exhausted body back to Oakridge Estate just as the clock struck five. Summer sunlight still lingered, slanting through the massive French windows and painting golden streaks across the living room.

Kicking off my heels, I tossed my designer handbag onto the entryway table without a care. The house was silent save for the soft crackling of flames in the marble fireplace.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Hayes." Martha emerged from the kitchen, dish towel in hand. "Can I get you anything?"

"Is Rhett home?" I asked, already knowing the answer. That bastard. Unless the sun was down, you'd never see him darkening the doorway.

"Mr. Hayes hasn't returned yet. He didn't mention if he'd be home for dinner." Martha set down her towel. "Would you like to call him and ask?"

I hesitated before nodding. Martha, ever perceptive, retreated to the kitchen. I pulled out my phone, hit speed dial, and waited.

After several rings, the call connected—but instead of Rhett's voice, I caught Vanessa's affected laughter in the background. My blood instantly boiled.

"Hello?" Rhett's deep voice finally came through.

"Not hungry, I see?" I spat through gritted teeth. "Since you've got company, don't bother coming home. This isn't a refuge for cheating assholes!"

I hung up before he could respond and hurled my phone onto the sofa with enough force to make it bounce.

"What would you like for dinner, ma'am?" Martha peeked out from the kitchen, treading carefully.

"Whatever. I'm not hungry." I massaged my temples, feeling a headache brewing.

Martha approached, her expression gentle. "Mr. Hayes is probably just caught up with work. He's a bit... untamed, but I can tell he cares deeply for you."

"Cares for me?" I let out a bitter laugh. "If he really cared, he wouldn't be gallivanting around with those women all day. You know what, Martha? I sometimes wonder if he only comes home to mark his territory, not because he actually gives a damn about me."

Martha looked like she wanted to say more but simply sighed and retreated to the kitchen.

After picking at my dinner and taking a long shower, I collapsed into bed wearing my silk nightgown. The mountain of fires I'd put out at Glamour Realm today had left me utterly drained. I turned over, closed my eyes, and began drifting off.

Just as sleep was about to claim me, the subtle sound of the bedroom door opening jerked me awake. Rhett stood in the doorway—suit perfectly tailored, hair slightly mussed, and infuriatingly handsome as ever.

"Oh, you remembered where you live?" I snatched a pillow and hurled it at him. "Next time you're wearing another woman's perfume, don't bother walking through that door! This isn't your crash pad!"

Rhett caught the pillow with ease, that maddening smirk playing on his lips. Only then did I realize one strap of my nightgown had slipped, exposing my shoulder. His gaze lingered there, eyes darkening with something dangerous.

"Eyes up here, pervert!" I yanked the strap back up and pulled the covers over myself.

Rhett just chuckled as he loosened his tie. "I'm going to shower."

Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam and the fresh scent of his body wash. I faced away from him, feigning sleep. The mattress dipped as he slid in beside me.

"How's your knee?" he asked, voice low and intimate in the darkness.

I ignored him, keeping my back turned.

Without warning, strong hands flipped me over. I found myself staring up into Rhett's face as he leaned over to examine my knee.

"Get off me!" I kicked him squarely in the stomach.

"Damn it, Sheryl!" Anger flashed in his eyes. "A little gratitude wouldn't kill you!"

"Oh, suddenly you care?" I sneered. "Didn't see you so concerned when you were with Vanessa earlier!"

"Does who I spend time with bother you that much? Jealous?" He arched one perfect eyebrow.

"I couldn't care less!" I shot back stubbornly. "I just hate being played for a fool!"

Rhett's expression turned serious as he gripped my wrist.

"Sheryl, whatever I do outside these walls, you are my wife. I belong only to you."

"How touching," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad I don't buy your bullshit."

He fell silent, releasing my wrist and settling back on his side of the bed. The room grew quiet except for our breathing.

After what felt like forever, I broke the silence. "Rhett, when you were in Italy... were you really alone?"

I felt his body tense slightly.

"No," he answered simply. "Luna was with me."

"Who's Luna?" I asked immediately, my heartbeat quickening against my will.

"A female," his voice carried a rare tenderness, "a very gentle one."

My heart clenched painfully, a bitter taste rising in my throat.

"We slept together every night," he continued, his hand suddenly resting on my waist. "She felt much better than you do."

I slapped his hand away. "Then go back to her!"

"Jealous?" Amusement colored his voice.

"Yes, I'm jealous!" I admitted bluntly. "Not because I care about you—because I hate feeling betrayed."

In the darkness, I heard him chuckle before he suddenly pulled me against his chest. His scent—expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely him—enveloped me.

"Luna is my German Shepherd, you idiot," he whispered against my ear, his breath warm. "She was the only female allowed in my bed until I met you."

I froze, then felt an embarrassing wave of relief wash over me. Not that I'd ever let him know.

"So even a dog ranks higher than me, huh?" I grumbled, making no move to escape his embrace.

"In some ways," he teased. "At least she doesn't try to kick me every five minutes."

I contemplated kicking him again but just sighed instead, closing my eyes. His arms around me provided a security I'd never admit to craving.

"Rhett?"

"Hmm?"

"Good night."

His response was to tighten his hold and press a soft kiss to my forehead.

Maybe Martha was right. Rhett might be an insufferable jerk, but he cared for me in his own twisted way. I just wasn't ready to admit that to him. Not yet.

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