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“Do you cook?” he asks, like he’s expecting the answer to be no—which would be correct.
“I’m not sure if what I do with food and a pan could actually be considered cooking.” I shrug. “But I make a mean pasta with butter, cheese, and toasted breadcrumbs. Do you cook? I only ask because Giana mentioned the stove in your apartment looks like it’s never been used.”
“I’m going to have to talk to Giana about spilling my dirty secrets.” He gifts me a cheeky smile. “I can reheat almost anything without ruining it. But I usually get something out. If not, my housekeeper Josefina keeps the pantry stocked. I’m not fussy, so I’ll never starve.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a housekeeper who comes in more than once a week.”
“I’m never there.” His jaw tenses. “But you’re there every day. I’m sure it would be nice for Josefina to come in more often. I’ll talk to her,” he adds.
“You don’t need to make any changes on my account. I’m neat and organized. Living at boarding school, you learn to clean up after yourself if you don’t want to lose privileges. You know how it is.”
He turns in to a parking lot and pulls up behind a black SUV. Zé gets out and disappears into the restaurant, along with several guards.
Rafael looks relaxed behind the wheel, like he enjoys being there.
“Do you normally drive?”
“Normally? No. But I appreciate the freedom of being in the driver’s seat. When I feel like taking a drive, Zé hops in and we take off, usually followed by a couple of guards. It’s not exactly freedom, but it’s the closest thing a man like me gets.”
He sounds almost wistful.
Men like my father and Rafael seem to have all the freedom in the world, and in some ways they do, but it’s not as unlimited as I often imagine.
“Do you know how much it shocks me that you don’t go off without guards? It always has.”
“I’m responsible for my own safety, but unlike you,” he says, tugging at my hair, “I don’t go anywhere without backup. When I was a teenager, someone ran Antonio’s car off the road, into the river. He had his driver with him, but no guards. He almost didn’t make it. If they could get to him, they can get to me. I have too many responsibilities to let some fucker take me down.”
I was a little girl—about five—but I remember when it happened. I was with Grandma Lydia when she got the call. She was taking me to a production of Beauty and the Beast, and we were having lunch before the show. I’ll never forget the horror in her face, or the way her hands shook as she shepherded me out of the restaurant. It must have been scary for Rafael too. If Antonio had died, it’s likely he would have been forced to go back to live with his father. It would have been awful.
Zé comes out and gives a thumbs-up.
Rafael helps me out of the car and tosses his friend the keys before we go inside.
35
RAFAEL
When I help Lexie with her jacket, my hand grazes her exposed back, and my cock jumps to life. She’s wearing a dress that reaches her neck, but it’s deceiving. Her shoulders and arms are exposed—as is her entire back. Fuck me.
“This dress is cheating,” I whisper, after handing the jacket to Lena, who owns the small restaurant with her husband.
The impish smile she gives me makes me smile too.
Her makeup conceals the freckles on her nose, but I know they’re there, reminding me of sass and fun, and of how young she is, compared to me. How inexperienced. Something I lose sight of too often.
“It’s the perfect evening for eating outdoors,” Lena gushes, leading us to the back of the restaurant.
When we step outside, Lexie’s jaw drops as we follow Lena across the stone patio to a table a few yards from the surf. Her gaze moves from the lit votives to the torches buried in the sand, and finally to a firepit designed to ward off any ocean chill. All other light comes from the moon reflecting off the water and her beautiful face.
“It’s magical,” Lexie purrs to no one in particular.
Lena winks at me. I told her what I wanted, then left the details to her and her husband, Elliot, who does all the cooking. I’ve never bothered with anything like this, but I knew she’d get it right.
It’s almost impossible to impress someone like Lexie—although I’m not interested in impressing her. I’m interested in surprising her and in making her smile.
I don’t let Lena help her get seated. I do it, letting my hands linger on her skin. When she trembles at the touch, it takes everything I have not to drag her into the ocean and fuck her beneath the waves.
Before she disappears, Lena motions to what looks to be a soft wrap on the back of Lexie’s chair. “It’s lovely tonight, and the fire should be more than enough, but it’s there in case you need a little something extra.”
