Chapter 9 - The First Step
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Two more weeks passed in a blur of intense, grueling secrecy.
During the day, Sylvia made her displeasure known. She would parade through the hotel lobby, intentionally dropping trash near Mara, whispering cruel insults about her weight to her friends just loud enough for Mara to hear. But Sylvia never crossed the physical line again. The threat of Rafe’s wrath hung over the hotel like a dark storm cloud.
Late at night, the penthouse remained their sanctuary.
It was 3:00 AM. Rain lashed against the reinforced glass windows of the suite. Rafe was sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs hanging off the side. He was shirtless, his broad chest heaving with exertion, covered in a sheen of sweat.
Mara knelt in front of him, her hands firmly planted on his knees.
"You have the sensation," Mara coaxed gently, looking up into his exhausted, determined face. "The nerves are firing, Rafe. You just have to trust them to hold your weight."
"If I fall, I’ll take you down with me," Rafe grunted, his jaw tight.
"I'm not afraid of falling," Mara said fiercely. "I’ve been pushed down my whole life. I know how to get back up. Now push."
Rafe closed his eyes. He gripped Mara’s shoulders, his large hands digging slightly into her tailored suit jacket. He took a ragged, deep breath.
With a roar of sheer, agonizing willpower, Rafe Cordell pushed his feet into the carpet.
His muscles, dormant for two years, trembled violently. The strain on his face was terrifying. But slowly, inch by excruciating inch, he rose from the mattress.
Mara stood up with him, wrapping her strong arms securely around his waist, anchoring his massive frame against her curves.
Rafe locked his knees. He stood completely upright.
He opened his eyes and looked down at Mara. He was towering over her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He wasn't sitting in a chair. He was standing on his own two feet.
"I'm standing," Rafe whispered, his voice cracking with profound emotion.
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"You're standing," Mara laughed, tears of absolute joy spilling down her cheeks.
Rafe looked at her tear-stained face. The mafia king didn't celebrate his victory with words. He reached down, cupped her face in his large, scarred hands, and pulled her into a desperate, consuming kiss.
