The question caught me off guard.
My lips parted, but no immediate answer came.
What was I supposed to say? That we had just argued? That he had practically drawn a line between us and dared me to cross it?
Before I could form a response—
A voice cut through the open window.
“We’re leaving together.”
Both Ramiro and I turned at the same time.
Rafael stood just outside, framed by the golden wash of the setting sun.
The light caught against him, sharpening every line, every angle, turning him into something almost unreal for a suspended moment.
He hadn’t changed.
Still in that tailored grey suit that clung perfectly to his tall, broad frame.
Control radiated from him naturally.
His dark eyes flicked between us, assessing, decisive.
Then he made a small gesture—just two fingers.
That was all it took.
Ramiro immediately stepped out of the car without a word, closing the door behind him with quiet precision.
I watched the exchange, something tightening faintly in my chest.
The kind of loyalty Rafael commanded... it wasn’t earned lightly.
The door opened.
And then Rafael was there.
He slid into the driver’s seat with fluid, effortless grace, his movements economical and sure.
The door shut, sealing us inside together, the space instantly feeling denser.
His hands settled on the steering wheel.
The engine came to life with a low, smooth purr, barely a sound at all as the car began to move, gliding away from the building like it belonged to the road itself.
I told myself not to look at him.
I failed.
My gaze flicked to him once.
Then again.
And then lingered longer than it should have.
From this angle, his profile was... unfair.
