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I’d learned that he’d had business with Raphael’s father that left Lina and I exposed, vulnerable. That was all he’d said. He’d told me Raphael was in a position of demanding something “quite dear”—as if he’d ever held me dear—and that if I wanted what was best for my sister, I’d better comply. It was the only way to save Lina, he’d said.
That’s all he’d needed to say.
After that one time, we hadn’t discussed it again. I hadn’t told Lina about it for a long time, and when I finally did, I only told her what I needed to and had kept my reason for agreeing a secret. That Christmas had been as bad as the one when we’d lost our parents because now, I would be losing not only my sister but myself as well.
Since my grandfather couldn’t afford to pay Raphael the money he owed, Raphael would take me instead. He would marry me for my inheritance—fifty percent of the winery would belong to me on my twenty-first birthday.
This…transaction, it wasn’t about me. It was between Raphael Amado and my grandfather. I was collateral damage.
I knew my grandfather wasn’t telling me the whole story. There had been too much anger, too much rage in Raphael’s eyes for this to only be about money. My grandfather had done something terrible to Raphael. I knew it. I just hoped Raphael wouldn’t punish me for his sins.
After returning to school in January, I called nightly to talk to Lina and didn’t even go home for winter break. Lina had been allowed to come to the school to spend it with me, for which I was grateful. That was when I’d told her about the agreement that would bind me to Raphael Amado.
I finally reached my room, and my woolgathering ended. I frowned. The door stood open a crack. That was odd. Cathy and I were both good about locking up behind us. The sisters had a strict policy on not tempting anyone to sin—in this case, that sin being stealing. Each of the doors had locks on them. I guessed in all the rush and excitement, Cathy had forgotten to lock the door behind her. Although it could just as easily have been me. I was so distracted these days.
I pushed the door open and gasped, my hand going up to cover my mouth.
He looked too big standing here, my room suddenly too small and emptied of oxygen.
Raphael Amado closed the book—my book—and set it down on the nightstand. He’d cut his hair since the last time I’d seen him but had what looked to be two days of growth across the hard line of his jaw. He wore dark jeans and a navy button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking more casual than he had the last time I’d seen him. Dark hair dusted powerful, tanned forearms. My gaze traveled upward, and I imagined the contour of his biceps, chest, and wide shoulders.
All the while, he studied me.
And I stood like a trembling mute before him.
“Sister Amelia let me in,” he said, his tone relaxed, his body at ease. He cocked his head to the side, and a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I hope you don’t mind.”
When he spoke, I forced my gaze to his face. His eyes looked just the same as they did in my nightmares, although they weren’t as fierce as they had been that day at Grandfather’s house. Not as angry. A hardness still edged them, though, and my mind screamed its warning inside my head.
This man was dangerous. His soul was dark. And if I wasn’t careful, he would drag me down into his hell.
“I do,” I managed, my voice quaking. “I mind.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he let his gaze circle the room, making me see it through his eyes.
He took a step and picked up a bra hanging half off a chair, then dropped it back down. “You’re messy. Or is that your roommate?”
“I wasn’t expecting an inspection.”
“Not an inspection. Not of your room, at least.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Curious, I guess.”
“It’s not time yet.” It wasn’t, I was sure. I had until graduation. And I wasn’t eighteen yet. He couldn’t take me until my eighteenth birthday. I had seven more days.
He stopped his perusal of the room and turned his gaze on me, slowly taking me in from head to toe. I swallowed, blinking fast, lowering my gaze momentarily when his found mine but forcing myself to look at him.
I couldn’t cower, no matter what.
I wouldn’t.
“I like the uniform.”
“What do you want?”
“Come inside. Close the door.”
I shook my head.
“I said come inside. Don’t worry. You’re still safe from me. I won’t touch you.”
Touch me? God. He would touch me soon enough.
I bit my lip, searching his face, imagining this man close, his face to mine, his hands on me. His mouth...
