She shakes her head, trying to push back. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
She stares at me, biting her lip, her eyebrows pulled down. The way she’s looking at me right now, I feel the layers surrounding me like armor melt away. She reminds me of the best part of my life. The best part of me, full of vivacity and genuine laughter.
I might not be good for her, but she’s the best damn thing for me. Hell if I’m going to let her go.
She takes a deep breath, palms pressed flat on my chest. She presses her lips to the side of my mouth, leaving a trail of kisses on my scruffy jaw, then traces her tongue along the shell of my ear. My balls tighten in anticipation.
“If and when I fall, I want it to be in your arms. I’m just not ready to do that yet. Not for a while. But I have a feeling it’ll be an experience I’ll remember for a long time.”
“Damn right. I’m one of a kind. No one will ever compare to what I can do to you, for you,” I growl, dropping my head to the crook of her neck, breathing her in. Her arms circle my waist, hugging me to her.
“Distract me. Or I might end up fucking you on this damn desk.”
She laughs softly, sending another shiver all over my body. Moments later, I button up her shirt and lift her down to the floor.
“Let me show you the files,” she says.
I grin, and just like the first time, when she put that butterfly on my palm, I feel my world shift. “So my charms worked, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing the file with “loans” written on it. “Not really. I just hate math.”
I chuckle at the hopeless look on her face.
“This file . . . I’m only doing this because I’m desperate.”
I frown. “Doing what?”
“Letting you see this.” Her tongue slips out to lick the labret on the corner of her lip. I clench my fists to stop myself from pulling her back to me and tasting that mouth again. I drag my eyes back to hers as she tells me about her father, the debts, and Kravic. I’m amazed. In awe. She doesn’t cry like most people in her situation would.
“I’m not sure why I told you all that. I’m not sure why I’m trusting you with that file.” She glances up, piercing me with a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Sophie. You can trust me. Anything in this file remains between us.” She nods, exhaling loudly, as if she’s been carrying that breath her whole life, and couldn’t wait to let it out.
“Now, about returning the favor.” I lean closer. The image of her cleaning my house, wearing one of those cute little maid uniforms plays in my head. “Can I get back to you on that?” She tenses. Shit. I wasn’t going for that reaction. “It’s nothing sinister, I promise.”
“Bring it on, Rafael.”
One side of my mouth curls up at the determined look on her face. “Are you good with a pair of scissors?”
She purses her lips. “I took a scrapbooking class last year.”
Oh, darling, scrapbooking isn’t what I have in mind. “That’ll do. We can work on my hair when I return from Milan on Friday. It’ll be first on the list of favors.”
“There’s a list?” she asks, her eyebrows rising a fraction.
“Yes.” Of course, there’s a list. I may not be able to have her because of that stupid bet, but I can still make sure her hands are all over me every chance I get.
“Friday it is, then.”
Rafael
SOMEONE ONCE said, “If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back, it’s yours forever.” Right after Olivia passed away, my world went dark. I sought forgiveness, but the only one who could offer it was gone. I’d sit on a bench in the park, watching Sophie laugh with her sister and friends. She’d stop suddenly, her eyes glazing with tears, and avert her face so no one could see. I craved to hold her in my arms, comfort her, ask her to forgive me. I wanted to absorb some of the brightness that bubbled from her whenever she smiled, so I could fill the cold, dark place in my chest.
But I couldn’t. Everything hurt too damn much.
I’d watched as Sophie deteriorated with each passing day until, eventually, I’d let her go and left the country.
I lived with Mrs. Callihan, one of Simone and Olivia’s friends, so I could try to get into the Sydney Conservatorium of Music. Sophie and I couldn’t be together after Olivia’s death. I would have put all of them--Sophie, Lilli, and their father--in danger. Just like Olivia had been. I didn’t deserve Sophie, then. And I don’t deserve her now. But she’s here. Shouldn’t that count for something?
Brenda and Simone were both right. The past should stay in the past.
I snap the suitcase shut and jog downstairs, grabbing my keys and phone as I head for the Jeep.
Less than fifteen minutes later, I park outside Sophie’s and stare at the 18th Century, butter-yellow, villa-like house. It’s dark, save for a flickering light downstairs.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my jeans and stare down at it, my finger hovering over Sophie’s number. I’ve dealt with worse things, looked death in the eye, but the thought of calling her scares the shit out of me. Once I make this call, there’s no going back.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I tap the screen and wait. Seven rings later, her voicemail picks up. Maybe she’s asleep? I check the time on the dashboard--12:07 a.m.
Shit, I didn’t even think about that before coming here. Twisting the key in the ignition, I start the car. My phone rings. Pulse racing, I answer.
“Rafael?”
“Sophie. Hey, can we talk?”
Pause. “It’s midnight.”
“Sorry.” I drag my hand down my hair. “Look. We--”
“Now is not a good time.” Something bangs in the background. She groans and curses. “Can we do this another time?” she says, sounding out of breath.
My mind throws images of male hands all over her, and my grip on the wheel tightens. Suddenly, there’s a loud clatter in the background and she’s gone, returning seconds later.
“If it’s nothing urgent, let’s talk on Friday, ‘k?” The line goes dead.
I glance out the window at the now dark house. The images in my head intensify, taunting me. I leap out of the car and slam the door, the sound echoing down the street. I brace my hands on the hood, taking deep breaths.
Jesus, I’m completely twisted out of shape over this girl.
The street is empty save for a silver Sedan parked across from her house. I squint, trying to make out the tall figure staring at Sophie’s house while speaking into his phone. I fucking know the asshole. Josef, one of Kravic’s henchmen. Kravic must be desperate if he sent in the big guns.
I stalk toward the car, my fists twitching at my sides. Another thud comes from the house. The image of her wrapped in someone’s arms is replaced by one that entirely chills my blood. I change directions and dash across the lawn to the front door. It’s locked. I lift my foot to kick it in, but pause when I hear sounds coming from the backyard. I round the corner, scanning the area. Two large backpacks lay on the lawn. A smaller one tumbles to the ground beside them. I jerk my gaze up, trailing it along the rope dangling from the roof.
What the fuck?
Sophie leans out a window on the second story, grabs the rope, murmuring under her breath, and wraps her booted legs around it, sliding down expertly. I groan, readjusting the front of my jeans as I watch her curvy ass descend. I move to stand below the window and wait, my hands ready and twitching. Who said stalking doesn’t have its benefits?
“What are we rehearsing for? Grand Theft House, or this is just a nightly thing?”
She squeals, flailing, and plunges into my arms, cursing words that have my ears burning. I let her squirming body slide against mine until her feet touch the wet grass.
I duck my head, leveling my lips to the shell of her ear. “Ladies don’t curse.”
She shivers, and whirls around to face me, her eyes on fire and her cheeks flushed. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m
nowhere close to a lady. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Saving you from breaking that pretty little neck.”
She stomps to the backpacks and picks them off the ground. “I don’t need saving.” One bag goes over her shoulder, the other around her chest.
“What’s with the Sedan outside?”
Her hands stop adjusting the smaller bag, and she sways as she tries to balance the extra weight. “They’ve been watching my house since my dad passed away.” She starts to walk toward the bushy fence on her right.
“Where are you going?”
“To my Honda.”
“In the bushes?” She ignores me, and walks off. I grab her arm and spin her around. I’m not in the mood to argue. If Josef called Kravic to tell him I was hanging around, we might be sitting ducks right now. “We need to talk. Now.”
She frowns. “I’m staying at Jace’s, and need to get back before everyone gets nervous.” Her gaze darts around. She licks her lips before looking up at me.
“They’ll be fine. Trust me. I have someone watching their flat. Look, I know about the people following you and Lilli around.”
She stumbles back, her eyes wide. “Wha--how did you know? Did Jace tell you? Oh my God, she did, didn’t she? I’m going to kick her ass from here to Russia.”
I step forward, grabbing her shoulders. “Stop freaking out, Sophie. Jace didn’t tell me anything.” She tries to shake herself from my grip, but I don’t let her go. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but we need to leave, okay? Trust me.”
“Not now--”
“Damn it, Sophie, listen to me! I know these men. They’re not here because they want to play house with you.”
“Of c--wait a second. You know them?”
Shit! This is not how I wanted to explain things. I nod once. I’m already balls deep into my confession. No point in trying to deny it now.
She studies me, and, for just a moment, I see fear reflected in her eyes. “And you want me to trust you, Rafael? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
She abruptly wiggles out of my hands, and darts toward the front of the house, dropping the backpacks.
“Damn it all to hell!” I tear after her, scooping her up before she rounds the corner. She shrieks, flailing her legs and arms, trying to dislodge my hold. One foot hits my balls. “Fucking hell! Stop that right now.” I growl in her ear.
Of course, she doesn’t. Clenching my jaw, I drop to the ground, making sure my body takes the impact, then flip around so she’s on her back. I pin her arms to the ground.
“Are you trying to castrate me? Seriously, Sophie, stop this struggling shit right now.”
“Let go of me you, you--”
“Sophie.”
She stops, glaring up at me. Tears swim in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight. She blinks hard, as if to push back the tears. Our ragged breathing fills the quiet night.
“Are you ready to listen to me?”
She swallows, and nods. I wait until I feel her body relax beneath mine, then ease my hands off her arms, and unpin her legs from my thighs. Her knee jerks up, toward my groin, and I tilt my hips fast.
“Bloody hell!” I grab her biceps, let my body drop onto hers, and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her yelp.
Christ, she tastes like fire and tears and fear. Her mouth is the most fantastic thing I’ve ever tasted. Her bunched muscles relax beneath my fingers as a whimper rushes through her mouth. Pulling back, I nip her jaw, tracing a path to her ear and running my tongue over its outline.
“You taste so damn good, Sophie. Want to kick me again?”
She doesn’t answer. I pull back, quirking a brow at her. Fuck, she’s so beautiful with her flushed cheeks and plump, sweet lips.
She shakes her head.
“Good.” I brush that little dimple on her chin with my fingertips. “Trust. Me.”
She bites the corner of her bottom lip and nods. “This talk had better be good, or I might stab you while you sleep.”
I chuckle, hauling her to her feet. She puts up a good fight, my little Butterfly.
After gathering the backpacks, I take her stiff hand in mine and lead her to the Jeep. Her fingers tighten around mine and her breath hitches when we hit the street. Josef openly stares at us. I bet he’s confused as hell.
“Trust me, no one will hurt you.”
When we arrive at my place, I drop the bags in the hallway.
“Want a tour?”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Rafael.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her chin forward. “I really need you to start talking, because I’m freaking out right now. No one knows what’s been going on, other than my friends and Lilli.”
I brush the lock of hair that slipped out of her ponytail behind her ear. “I would never hurt you, Sophie. Not intentionally.” She stares at me without saying a word. I exhale deeply, and motion for her to follow me. “It’s time, I guess. Come.”
Now that she’s here, I’m at a loss for words. I wish I could get a glimpse of what she’s thinking.
She starts to pace as soon as we reach the living room, her hands tucked beneath her sleeves.
“Can we sit?”
She nods, and sits across from me. Sweat beads on my brow. How do I start this?
“Tell me about Olivia.” Great job.
Her eyebrows shoot up, as if to ask if I’m serious.“What do you mean? You knew her. What else do you want to know?”
“Humor me.” I sit forward and brace my elbows on my knees.
She sighs. “I miss her so much,” she says in a low voice. “She was lively. The best mother in the world, though I didn’t make things easy for her.” She talks about where Olivia was born, the year they moved to Vienna, her father, Lilli. I let her talk. I’ve always been curious about the woman who treated me like a son. I watch her mouth, captivated by the rise and fall of her voice. She could talk like a hurricane, and I’d listen the entire time. She stops and pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She looks so lost it actually hurts.
She lifts a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and I fist my hands to stop them from repeating the action. I switch seats and sit on the edge of the sofa, next to her. She darts a gaze at me, tightening her arms around her knees.
Damn it. She’s scared of me.
“Did she ever mention Neve?” I ask. “Neve and Jan?” She looks up at me, frowning. My lungs ache, starved for the air lodged in my throat. Waiting. “I knew them . . .” The pain of losing them slams into my chest, choking off my voice.
She drops her gaze to her folded legs. “I met them when I was ten, during the summer. They spent a week with us.” I can hear a smile in her voice. “They had a son. Arie.” Her voice catches on an emotion I can’t figure out, and she falls quiet. I realize I’m not breathing anymore.
“Arie?”
“Yeah. He was really sad. Like, all the time. I remember wanting to make everything all right for him so he could smile. He was pretty special.”
“Was?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head, fiddling with the edge of her pink sweater. “We actually met in Simone’s music room at the Konrad. And oh man, that boy could scowl. He was mean to me and my dolls, but the ten-year-old me was stubborn. I kept pestering him until he finally gave in to my childish charms.” She giggles, which makes me chuckle as well, remembering the first time we’d met. “They left for Paris after that.” Her lips quirk into a smile and she peeks at me through her lashes. “It was the happiest week of my life.”
She lifts her face to stare at me, and something in her expression shifts, like she’s trying to figure something out.
I give up the fight and lift my hand, running my fingertips along her right cheek. She leans her face into my hand and it’s all I can do not to drag her onto my lap and bury my face in her neck.
“You never saw him again?” My voice is hoarse; I hardly recognize it as my own.
“N
o,” she says, stretching her legs and wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. “No, I never saw him again. Two days after they left, I went downstairs to say goodnight to my parents and found my mom crying in my dad’s arms. She kept muttering over and over, 'Poor Jan, poor Neve, poor little Arie. What a horrible way to die.’ Their plane crashed.”
Wait! Wait, what? Died?
I drop my hand from her face, standing abruptly, and pace the room. She thought I died? No wonder she doesn’t recognize me! I’ve definitely changed a lot from that chubby, short eleven-year-old, but I was still me. I guess Olivia had kept her promise not to tell Sophie my whereabouts.
“Rafael?”
I force myself to turn around. I probably look like a lunatic. One minute, I’m touching her, wanting her, the next, I’m off my hinges.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, assembling the words I want to say, then grimace.
I drop to my knees in front of her and take her hands in mine, my pulse racing.
“You’re scaring me, Rafael.” She shifts on the sofa, her eyes wide.
I kiss her fingertips. “I thought I didn’t scare you . . . Butterfly.”
Her mouth tightens, her eyebrows pulling low on her face. She opens her mouth, but I press a finger against her lips, silencing her.
“Baby. That little boy, Arie . . .” She stares at me, her eyes wary and wider than before. She looks over her shoulder to the front door, then back at me, licking her lips.
“I’m Arie.”
She inhales sharply, her bottom lip trembling. She shakes her head vigorously as she yanks her hand from mine, scooting back. “But . . . but your name is Rafael.”
“My first name is Rafael. Arie is my middle name, after my grandfather.”
She pushes to her feet and paces, her arms hugging her waist.
“Say something, Sophie.”
She stops, turning to face me, every emotion known to man struggling across her features. “You were alive all this time?”
I nod.
“You weren’t in the crash?” She whispers the last word like it’s a curse.
I shake my head. “The plane crashed as my parents were flying back to the Netherlands.”
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