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“I’m sure he carries scars not so different from your father’s.” The empathy in her voice is so thick, it’s palpable.
He does. My heart aches—for my two favorite men. “Not so different,” I mutter trying to keep my feelings in check.
“He risked a lot to save you,” she murmurs, picking at the wound to ensure it’s thoroughly clean before I cover it. Unclean wounds become infected, and festering infections leave scars.
“Your father issued a shoot order, and Rafael insisted he not retract it, so that they could hatch some plot to rescue you. He was desperate to save you. It even made an impression on your father, who’s not easily impressed.”
I’m going to strangle him—both of them. But that explains their banter about the order when we spoke on the plane.
He was desperate to save you. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms to ward off the emotion bubbling near the surface. Then I reach for my mask. “Don’t make too much of it. Rafael loves a damsel in distress.”
“I don’t doubt it, but handing a stranded woman cab fare is quite different than laying down your life. He might not be the right man for you, but it’s not because of the way he feels about you—or the way you feel about him. I hear it in your voice,” she adds just above a whisper.
I put the phone on speaker and press my shoulders into the headboard, hugging my legs to my chest.
“It’s hard to be with someone like him,” I admit. “He’s not easy.”
“What would you do with an easy man, darling?” she asks softly.
Valentina found a man who seemed easy, one who wasn’t connected to our perilous world. Look how that turned out.
“Are you suggesting I’m a difficult woman?” My tone is off and the sarcasm falls flat.
“I’m suggesting you’re spirited and strong, and you need a partner who’s a match for your energy and passion. It doesn’t have to be Rafael. But you’d never be happy—or feel safe—with a doormat.”
Don’t worry. I’d never be attracted to a doormat. Not even a designer one from Knightsbridge. I prefer men who wrestle with demons, and take no prisoners—the sex is better.
“Men like Rafael do nothing in half measure,” she continues. “They’re overbearing, possessive, exhausting. They aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sure every feminist on the planet would be horrified to know that I’m not warning you away from him. And maybe I should.”
She draws a long breath. “But when it clicks with a man like that, it’s something special. Something extraordinary. The kind of extraordinary that makes for the love affair of a lifetime.”
She’s not talking about Rafael and me. She’s talking about her relationship with my father.
The kind of extraordinary that makes for the love affair of a lifetime.
I want that. I want it with him. But right now, the cost feels too great and the risks too high—almost impossible.
20
RAFAEL
The launch is two weeks away, and I have Tamar hunting flesh traders with Lexie. I’m insane. Not that it isn’t of vital importance to stop those animals, but I have a responsibility to the company, my family, my employees, and the people of the valley who need Port to thrive well beyond our lifetime.
This endeavor will make, or break, Premier as a modern, cutting-edge port house. Its success is vital to the region. No one can convince me differently. But the monsters who killed Francesca, and who have set their sights on Lexie, are taking up a lot of brain space and I’m finding it difficult to focus on the launch.
To add to my problems, I have Tamar and Lexie working in the conference room down the hall from my office—although that has to change. I can’t get a damn thing done knowing Lexie’s a few doors down.
My attention never strays far from the leggy angel with a devilish gleam in her eye. More than a few times today, I’ve thought about sending Tamar on a fool’s errand so I can beg Lexie to lick her pussy. Although I doubt she’d be into it. She’s still keeping me at arm’s length, and I’m still giving her space—but it’s killing me.
I close my laptop and stretch my arms overhead. Valentina will be here shortly. Something else to add to my sullen mood.
Our relationship hasn’t recovered. The worst part is that she’s not seething anymore, but she doesn’t bother with me unless it involves work. Like today. The relationship is strictly professional. I hate it with a vengeance, although most days I consider myself lucky for the crumbs.
There’s a knock on my open door, and I glance up to my sweet niece, who looks so much like my mother it’s sometimes startling.
If the door was open, Valentina used to waltz right in without knocking. Not anymore. “You don’t need to knock, cara linda. Come in.”
“Bom dia,” she chirps brightly, a phony smile plastered on her beautiful face.
