His fingers found her, and she shattered again, a broken cry torn from her throat. Rafael groaned her name as her body clamped around him, and he gave in, spilling deep, hand splayed across her belly.
For a long moment, they stayed there, breathing into the dark, the window streaked with proof of their consummation. Then he eased out, scooped her up like she was something rare, and carried her back to the bed.
“Sore?” Ninety-nine percent smug. One percent contrite.
Bea let out a weak laugh, dragging her thumb along his jaw. “You could at leasttrynot to sound pleased about it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Beatriz Cruz. Combined Bachelor of Finance and Economics, Master of Finance, Graduate Enrichment Program.”
It didn’t matter that she’d been working full-time for months already. Hearing her name from that podium still raised the fine hairs along her arms. She remembered every late night. The spreadsheets that made her want to cry. All the moments she’d wondered if she belonged, or if someone would eventually notice she didn’t.
Her posture squared as she walked up the crimson carpet toward the stage. The robe swayed against her calves as the St. Ives Auditorium rose around her with its carved wood paneling and sweeping balconies.
The dean stood waiting, gold and maroon hood heavy across his shoulders. The handshake was pure ritual, but his smile was real. Bea took the folder carefully. Her name caught the light in gold foil, and for a second she could only stare at it.
The glare stole the faces, but she knew exactly where her guests would be. She turned, held up her diplomas, and waggled them from side to side in an unmistakable,I did it!She hoped Umma’s camera had caught it, hoped her papa was proud.Above the din, she could have sworn she heard Rafael and Claire cheer, and her grin turned unstoppable.
Her third certificate was held by Nate West on behalf of King Global Capital. Dark suit, cropped hair, posture straight as a parade line. When he passed her the folio, his grip held a fraction too long.
“Congratulations, BeaCruz.” His steel-grey eyes were bright.
There wasn’t time to say anything but a hurried ‘thanks’ before the next name was called.
The foyer had turned into a tide of relatives and bouquets. Voices overlapped, flashes were going off in quick bursts. Bea moved carefully through the crush, folder tucked tight, scanning for the four she cared about most.
“Bea.”
Her heart stuttered as she turned. “Nate.”
They stood there for a beat, surrounded but oddly alone.
“How are you?”
“I’m good,” she replied. “You?”
He shrugged. “It’s nice to still see the sun at this hour.”
She nodded, thinking of London’s early dark. Then, for reasons known only to her nervous system, “I got married two days ago.”
Oh, Bea. Why?
“I heard,” he said, the corners of his mouth tipping upward. “Griffin’s a lucky man.”
It had been perfectly good small talk until she’d forced her ex-boyfriend’s best friend to compliment her husband.
“Thanks,” she said, hating how banal it sounded.
Nate briefly regarded her left hand. The blue stone flashed, bold and unapologetic against her skin. Her wedding band sat beneath. “That’s some ring.”
Bea bit back a smile. “He’s not built for moderation.”
The silence lingered, neither of them moving to break it.
“I’m glad it was you,” she blurted, again unnecessarily. “Presenting today.”
“Me too.” He paused, then added, “King thought I was the right choice.”
