“Take your purse,” I say with a nod at the handbag. “Use it if necessary.”
“Okay.”
“Carina.” The dangerous edge lacing my tone grabs her attention, bringing it back to me. “Be careful. Do you understand me?”
She nods. “Of course.”
After retracting my hand from her wrist, I keep my gaze locked on her as she makes her way to Violetta. They’re standing in a small alcove that rests under a large tree. Although I can still see Carina, I’m too far for my sanity. Because if anything jumps off, I won’t be close enough to protect her. With that in mind, I grab one of the champagne flutes and casually walk in her direction, keeping my eyes in constant motion, but always bringing them back to Carina.
Which is why I’m able to see despair and agony flit over her beautiful face. My steps quicken, my body acting of its own accord in its haste to get to her. I have to remind myself that she’s carrying a firearm in her purse, so if there’s danger she’ll be able to defend herself until I reach her side.
However, protecting her is something I want to do.
“Good evening, ladies.” I dip my head in Violetta’s direction and then wrap my arm around Carina’s waist. “Do let me in on the latest gossip. Who’s sleeping with who?”
Violetta narrows her gaze at me in a queer expression and then walks off, leaving me to stare after her. I turn to Carina, who has yet to look at me. When I squeeze her hip she does. There are tears gathering in her eyes and once she blinks they roll down her cheeks, disturbing her makeup.
“Come with me,viziata.”
With a gentle nudge, I guide her to the nearby building that houses the venue’s ballroom. I usher her into the women’s restroom and lock the door. Carina blinks at me in confusion, forcing more tears down her cheeks.
“You need privacy.” I give her an unapologetic shrug. “And there are other facilities the guests can use.”
She sniffs while nodding and then walks over to grab a tissue. Although she dabs at her eyes, they still fill with moisture, until I’m not sure there’s a point to wiping them. I war with myself for all of ten seconds before I’m standing in front of Carina and wrapping her in my arms. The instant she lays her head on my chest the emotional dam breaks.
We stand there, with me caressing her back in languid strokes and her pouring her grief onto my expensive, customized, tailor-made suit. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. This woman has runtome almost as much as she’s runfromme. One day the latter will overtake the former. At least I hope so.
I brush back a tendril from her face and take her chin in hand. “Are you alright?”
She sighs. “I will be.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No, you’ve done enough already.” Carina tries to break the embrace by taking a step back, but I hold firm. She looks up at me with a quizzical expression. “What is it?”
“Your sister will come around. I saw her face when you hugged her earlier and there was a shift in her demeanor. It was brief, but it was there.”
Carina closes her eyes and I drop her chin to run my thumb between her eyebrows, smoothing out the stress lines that have gathered. “My sister wouldn’t talk to me,” she whispers brokenly. “No matter what I said, Violetta wouldn’t respond. She must hate me for leaving her.”
“I doubt it, knowing you the way I do.”
Her eyes flutter open. “And how is that exactly?”
“Despite all your flaws, and there area lotof them,” I say with a grin, “you’re a loving person. You remind me of my mother in that way.”
“You never speak of your parents…I—I thought it might be because they were like mine, but hearing you now? I made the wrong assumption.”
I blow out a sharp breath. “She left my brothers and me when I was seven or eight and I haven’t heard from her since. For all I know, she’s dead or out there living her best life.”
“Rafael…”
When Carina tries to touch my face, I jerk it out of her reach. “Don’t. If I wanted pity, I would’ve told you a long time ago so I could’ve gotten a pity fuck out of it.” I release her by dropping my arms and taking a step back. “Are you done in here?”
She stares at me, the wheels in her beautiful mind spinning. I fold my arms and give her a blank stare while getting my temper under control. It shocks me that after all this time I can still get angry so quickly at the mere mention of my mother’s disappearance. It always goes back to the unknown; I despise her for running and not knowing why she never came back. As I look at Carina, I’m reminded of that fact because she’s a person who takes off when trouble arrives.
Would she still try to if she was pregnant?
“I don’t pity you,” Carina says. “It’s called compassion, Rafael. That’s what happens when someone actually gives a shit about you.”
