He saw her face. The way she hadn’t gone to him when he returned. Every inch of her wanting to, yet holding back. He’d taken blows without flinching but that moment with her had been worse.
His grip slipped mid-rep. He adjusted instantly, jaw clenching as pain ripped down his left shoulder. He still finished the set.
Rafael straightened, wiped his hands on a towel, and reached for his shirt. His shoulder protested as he slid his arm into the sleeve. He ignored it.
RAFAEL
The hour before dinner at Midnight & Gold was when men let the truth slip, that they then spent the rest of the night polishing away.
“Congrats, Griffin.” This came from Dean Haneda sprawled in a leather armchair like a house cat that had claimed the best patch of sun.
Rafael had agreed to meet Cassian Montenegro here to talk business. Cassian had texted to say he’d be late, which left him in the center of well-wishers.
“You really did it,” Marek said, tapping ash from his cigar onto a crystal tray.
Rafael lifted his cognac in acknowledgment.
“Griffin’s been sure about Bea for years,” Derek said, cards whispering smoothly through his hands as he shuffled.
“Still,” interjected Finn, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “three months, when King couldn’t do it in eighteen.” He grinned. “If I were you, I’d be the smuggest motherf?—”
“Griffin.”
The interruption didn’t come from the group.
A man Rafael knew only vaguely slid into the empty chair at his right, settling in as though he’d been invited. Mid-forties, crisp jacket, St. Ives University pin catching the light.
Rafael looked up. “You are?”
He offered a broad hand. “Andrew Janssen. I was going to call you tomorrow.”
Rafael shook it. “About what?”
“Your engagement,” Andrew replied. “We didn’t see a press release.”
Rafael shook his head. “My fiancée didn’t want one. She hates being in the spotlight.”
“May I ask when your wedding date is, then?”
“For what purpose?”
Andrew glanced briefly at the others, then back at Rafael. “Your fiancée is Beatriz Cruz. She completed her degree last year.” A pause. Deliberate. “Have you decided what name she’ll graduate under?”
Andrew lowered his voice, though no one in the circle pretended not to listen. “If the wedding is before the graduation ceremony, or within a couple of weeks after, even without the formal paperwork finalized, we can print her diploma as Beatriz Griffin.”
Beatriz Griffin.
The effect of hearing it spoken for the first time from the mouth of a stranger was visceral; satisfaction, approval, anchored deep in his gut. The world already saw her differently, written her permanently into his world.
“When is the ceremony?” Rafael asked.
Andrew gave the date.
Two days after the wedding. The date they’d agreed on, before Bea had started putting a pause on everything.
“April?” Finn scoffed. “There’s no way.”
Rafael didn’t answer. He rolled the glass between his fingers instead, watching the cognac climb and fall along the curve as he thought.
