Page 161 of In Love and Revenge

His eyes flick back to Rafael. ‘You want me to walk you inside?’

I shake my head. ‘No, it’s fine, I promise.’

Closing the door, I fish inside my bag for my keys, walking slowly towards my door. Rafael pushes off from his car and strides over to me. For the past six days he’s done this. Walked to me, helped me open the door, told me I look beautiful, passed me whatever gift he’s left for me, then waited for me to close the door.

He hasn’t pushed for more. He’s seemed content to get that small interaction from me, even if it’s over within seconds.

Instead of wrapping his hand over mine to open the door like he usually does, he pauses as he reaches me.

‘He wants to be your new boyfriend.’

I follow his scowl to Joe, sitting in his car and watching us like he’s wondering whether to climb out and tell Rafael to piss off and leave me alone. I almost laugh at the idea. Like Joe would get anywhere, except maybe the hospital, judging from the way Rafael’s teeth are grinding so hard that a muscle in his jaw is throbbing.

‘Joe’s just a friend.’

‘Joe? That his name? I thought it was Dickhead.’

I shake my head and turn towards the door.

‘He wants to get between your legs,’ Rafael growls.

‘How would you know?’ I scoff, whirling back to face him, fire igniting in my stomach. ‘Joe’s been a good friend since I arrived here.’

‘He ogles your arse every time you climb out of his car. Why do you think he leans across to open your door instead of getting out and doing it himself? Prick,’ he mutters.

‘He does not!’

‘Undo another button on your blouse tomorrow, then tell me he doesn’t stare at your tits.’ He grimaces. ‘Bloody hell. Don’t do that. Don’t bloody listen to me.’

Molten bronze eyes slide to meet mine and I gaze up at him, momentarily enchanted by the way they shimmer and his pupils dilate as he looks back at me. There’s no mistaking the love this man has for me. It’s shining down on me like the sun, warming me from the inside out, giving me life.

But it’s also dangerous and deceitful. I don’t know if I can ever trust it again, despite wanting to.

He bends to retrieve the bouquet, then holds it out to me.

‘They’re beautiful.’ I bite my lower lip as I take them, and their heady scent reaches my nostrils. ‘Just like the last bunch.’

Rafael’s eyes shine. ‘Come home.’

‘I can’t,’ I whisper. ‘Not yet.’

Determination settles in his gaze, notching up its intensity. It’s the only thing that masks the pain that’s lurking there, beneath the surface.

‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he says.

‘Tomorrow,’ I echo.

As per our new ritual, he slides his hand over mine and helps me unlock the door. Then he waits for me to step inside.

For the first time in a week, I glance back at him, and the way his eyes flare with hope makes my stomach twist painfully. What if I’m making this harder for him? What if I can never go home with him? Forgiveness is something that seems so out of reach right now that I’m not sure I’ll ever even see it on the horizon.

His eyes drop to my mouth and he takes one step backwards, like he knows if he doesn’t move away, then he’ll be striding inside after me and pinning me to the wall, devouring me.

Heat pulses between my legs and I force a swallow as I close the door.

I don’t have any vases left, so I head to the kitchen sink in my apartment and fill it with water, placing the flowers inside, looking for the small envelope between the petals. He always leaves a handwritten card. One sentence, ranging in its wording, but always carrying one of two sentiments – either how much he loves me, or how sorry he is. Both are equally hard to read.

Today, though, the small envelope has been replaced by a larger one. I pluck it from the arrangement and tear it open, pulling out two items from inside.