There was honesty in that small closet. Fear, too. But the honesty is what scared me most of all.He is messy, just like me.
I don’t know how to handle it. So I packed a bag for Monaco instead. It’s only a three-and-a-half-hour drive, but James arranged helicopters, and I got to see the Italian countryside and the French Riviera from the sky in one single ride.
Rafe didn’t take off his sunglasses the whole time. Not even when we checked into the grand hotel. He headed upstairs to our room while Nora, Amber and I went for a quick round of shopping. Amber talked to us about investment strategy, Nora picked out outfits for all three of us and I spent extra time in the changing room answering emails to colleagues at Mather & Wilde.
Things are flowing surprisingly smoothly at headquarters with Rafe’s lackey there as the new CEO. My friends on the inside are keeping me updated. This is what I wanted, but it feels oddly empty to not be needed afteryearsof keeping the company from crumbling under my uncle’s incompetence.
We stop for lattes before walking back to the hotel. “You’ve been to one of these parties before,” I ask Nora, “right? I heard a rumor.”
“Just one.” Her cheeks heat up.
“Wait, what’s that reaction?” I ask. “Tell us everything.”
She does, and excitement drums louder inside me with every dizzying detail.The mention of people having sex makes my mind perfectly blank for a second. I know that’s not the focus. The focus is the poker game and winning back whatever Alex lost.
But it’s hard not to think about that part.
When I open our hotel room door, Rafe’s coming out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a towel around his waist, hair wet, the scar on full display. There’s a dark bruise spreading over his opposite ribs.
I stop in my tracks. “Hi.”
“Hello,” he says.
We haven’t really had a chance to speak without others around since the other night. I don’t know where we stand. Judging from the wariness in his eyes, neither does he.
“Your eye.”
“Yeah,” he says. “The bruise is getting worse.”
“That’s why you’ve been wearing sunglasses the whole day?”
“Yes. Too noticeable?” he asks.
I shrug. “A little. It would be weird if you wore them to the party. But I have makeup. I mean, I could help to try and conceal it.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “You would help?”
“Yes. If you want me to.”
“Yes. Thanks.” He heads to his open suitcase. I set down my shopping in the meantime and pretend I don’t hear the rustling of clothes, the sounds of him getting ready. Fabric over damp skin.
“What did you buy?”
“Clothes for tonight,” I say. “Nora picked out outfits for all three of us. She’s good at that.”
“She is, yeah.”
“I paid for their dresses too, by the way, with the card you gave me.”
“You’re good at spending my money,” he says. It’s impossible to read his voice, if that’s mocking or a simple fact.
“I see it as a personal challenge.” I grab my makeup bag from deep within my suitcase.
“I’ll come with you one day, you know.” He walks into view, framed by the doorway of the bathroom. “See how much you like it when you have to pretend to like something hideous.”
I walk past him into the bathroom. He smells good. Clean and soapy. “My shopping spree in Milan was enough, thank you.”
“And yet you keep stealing my shirts.”
