We manage to cull the list a little further. If I was less tired, I'd be proud of our ability to work together, even in the face of our complicated history. But at last I stifle a yawn, blinking hard against the fatigue weighing down my limbs. Beside me, Raffi stretches with a groan, muscles shifting under his shirt in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
"It's late," he says, eyes settling on me. "I should get home."
The one blessing about this whole thing is that Julian didn't insist Raffi stay onsite again for the party preparations. But sometimes I wish he had. Sometimes I wish I could know that Raffi was here at Redwood when I slide into my bed, that Raffi was here…
Keeping us safe.
I give a jerky nod as Raffi's eyebrows go up at my long silence. Rising on unsteady legs, I have some vague sense that something has changed between us, though nothing has happened at all. "Good night, Mr. DeLuca."
"G'night, D. Sweet dreams." His voice is rough, sliding into a tone I've only heard from him in bed together. I back away quickly and escape into the corridor before my thoughts can get away from me.
But I can't go to bed. Not—not just now. Instead, I head down to the quiet kitchen, and shut myself away in my break room.
And I think about the party again, but not the preparation. No. I think about seeing Raffi in a social setting, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of Hollywood's elite.
He's very good looking. And all of Julian's associates tend to be flirtatious. Charming. What if some of them flirt with or charm Raffi? How will I bear it, knowing that I had my chance and I blew it? How will I keep my composure when all I'll want to do is pull him into my arms and never let go?
A soft knock shakes me from my reverie. I straighten, wondering—throw open the door?—
Julian stands on the threshold, pale eyes gleaming as he takes in the way my shoulders slump. "I thought I saw a light," he says by way of explanation. "How are the preparations going, Darian? Have you and Raffaello finalized the seating arrangements?"
At the mention of Raffi's name, something inside me snaps. It's too much. It's all too much.
"I can't do this anymore," I blurt out. My chest heaves as though I've run a marathon. "Mr. Castellani, if you make me work with Mr. DeLuca any longer, I-I'll resign, effective immediately. I mean it this time."
Julian's lips purse thoughtfully. "Has Raffi been cruel to you?"
"Cruel to me? Of course not."
"Has he been rude or unprofessional?"
"Quite the opposite." I have to fight not to sound too defensive about Raffi, but Julian's insinuations are outrageous. "He's been very polite and extremely professional."
"I see." Julian studies me for a long moment, eyes glinting with amusement. "So…what seems to be the problem?"
I've reached it. My breaking point. "I'm finding it difficult to be around him." My voice emerges as a hoarse whisper. "I have feelings for Mr. DeLuca that—that go beyond professionalism. Feelings I can't act on." I swallow hard, pulse racing. "And it's torture."
Julian Castellani puts on an expression that suggests sympathy. I've seen him do it before, and it's a very good impression…but it's never quitereal. Still, he only does it when he thinks it's the appropriate response. "I see. Unrequited love can be a very painful thing—I'm told."
I stare at him.
"However, you don't know that your affections are unreturned unless you voice them," he finishes.
"Mr. Castellani, I don't think this conversation is appropriate," I say at last.
To my shock, Julian laughs. "You're very keen on appropriateness, aren't you Darian? Or so you like people to think, anyway."
"I don't know what?—"
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I find it admirable that you can so clearly box away different parts of your life. Not like Raffaello. He's—well. Principled? A man of deep feelings, despite hislaissez-faireexterior?" Julian's smile is mesmerizing, and I can't look away. "There are two kinds of men in our world, Darian. Honorable men like your Raffi, like Sandro and Jack. My own lovely Lion, he's an honorable man, too."
I can feel my temple, thrumming with my pulse as he pauses, watches me take it in.
"And then there are the other kind," Julian goes on. "Men like you and me. The ones who truly understand the value of deceit."
I want to deny it. I'm nothing like Julian Castellani.
Not on the face of it.
