It’s the first time he’s said as much, and there’s such assuredness in it, I grin too. It feels like a big step, one I didn’t even know I needed to make.
“Valentina, can we talk?” Rafael takes a hesitant step toward me, his face somber. I hate that he looks so afraid, so I nod quickly, hoping to remove any doubts from his mind.
McCrae’s eyes harden as he looks between us, and I half expect him to demand to stay. Instead, he pushes off the railing and heads to the door. Before he retreats inside, he looks over his shoulder. “Aim for the throat. It’ll give you enough time to scream for help if you need it.”
“Go away,” I say, and McCrae does, without so much as a small protest.
Rafael takes several more measured steps toward me before stopping. He pushes sand around with his boot, the tension rolling off him in uncertain waves.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I?—”
“I understand how?—”
He chuckles, his lips tipping to the side slightly. “Please, let me say what I need to first.” I nod, but dread fills me. What if he’s going to tell me he wants to leave? What if he says everything I felt was a lie?
He runs a finger over my forehead, brushing a curl off my brow before his hand drops, swinging limply by his side. “I should never have tricked you. I could have hurt you, or worse, and I’ll live with that guilt forever—I never want anything to happen to you, V. Especially by my own hand. You deserve so much better, and even though I know you owe me nothing, I want the chance to prove to you how good we could be.”
That damn lump fills my throat again, and I swallow repeatedly to work around it.
Every villain has a story—mine was written in flesh, his was written in blood.It’s easy to write off a villain; it’s harder to take the time to understand one—it’s why I accept him, forgive him in a way no one else could.I am him and he is me.
“I understand why you did it. I would have done so much worse had roles been reversed. I just…I need to know—” The sentence dies. How can I say this, admit this, without exposing my weakness? Thirty-five years of trauma lead up to this one moment, and I have to decide if I will or won’t let it control me anymore.
That’s what Faith meant—I have to decide.It’s up to me, and I no longer want to be a victim to the horrible trauma of my past. There’s so much more for us to discuss, so many more answers we’ll have to find, but for now, I only need one.
“Anything.” Rafael gently grips my fingers.
“Was any of it real?” My voice quivers, but I get the words out, and pride blooms in my chest. I finally show true weakness, and instead of feeling less than, I feel strong, powerful,brave.
Rafael raises my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles tenderly. “Every secret I told you, every tale about my past, every moment we shared and feeling we felt—it was all real to me, V. Even when I didn’t want to, I told you the truth. And the truth is, I’ve fallen for you. Helplessly and hopelessly.”
A tear skitters down my cheek, and instead of feeling shame, I feel relief. “Kiss me then.”
And he does.
He fucking kisses me like his life depends on it.
FORTY-FIVE
VALENTINA
December 2nd, 2025
The skyabove us splits open, a few drops splattering against my skin like a silent warning. Within moments, the drops turn into a torrential down pour, the water frigid as it escapes from its skyward prison. It pounds against our heads, the tin roof of the house, the ground, everywhere in between.
But I barely notice.
All I can focus on is Rafael’s scorching lips moving against mine with such devotion, such determination, his hands threaded through my hair and his body pressing closer and closer to mine.
There’s a live beat of electricity thrumming between us, and I cling to it, unable to let go.
His lips drop to my neck, his tongue lapping up the heavy droplets as his hand pulls my head backward. I gasp as the motion pulls our bodies farther apart, and the cold press of our wet clothing finally registers in my mind.
“We have to get out of this rain,” I chatter, my fingers still digging into his shoulders. He continues to press feverish kissesup and down my throat—a man possessed—and it takes every ounce of will power I have to push away from him.
The second I do, I instantly regret it, the cold settling deeper into my bones.
Rafael’s eyes flash toward me, two glittering green diamonds. He’s magnificent—chest heaving, water running down his perfectly chiseled face, already pinkening from the chill and our skin rubbing alongside the other.
