RAFAEL SOLANO.
Across the stone lies one white rose, snapped clean in half.
Chapter 9
Lady
Shady shows up at my tower with a clean shirt, cafecito in one hand, and a white bakery box in the other like carbs can keep me from murdering him.
It is almost insulting how well he knows me.
After my revenge set at Eclipse, he followed me home and promised the patched men he left to watch me wouldn’t bother me. They haven’t. He hasn’t either. The space has been both refreshing and devastating. I’ve had almost a whole week to think, and I still don’t know how I feel.
I watch him through the peephole for a full minute before I open the door. He doesn’t knock again. He doesn’t text. He doesn’t lean on the bell like a macho pendejo with a death wish. He just stands there in the hallway, boots planted, cut on, blond hair damp from Miami humidity, mouth set in that rough line that usually means he is deciding whether to say something smartass or violent.
His eyes lift to the peephole.
“I know you’re looking, baby.”
I stay silent.
He lifts the coffee. “Brought peace offerings.”
“Did you bring roses?”
“Fuck no.”
“Smart.”
“I have my fucking moments.”
“Rare, but cute.”
His mouth twitches.
I unlock the door because I’m weak, angry, horny, exhausted, and curious. Dangerous combination. The kind Miami builds entire nightlife economies around.
The second I open it, his eyes run over me.
Not slow enough to be dirty.
Not fast enough to be polite.
He takes in the oversized silk robe, the bruises along my cheek, the leather cuffs still hiding the worst of my wrists, my bare legs, my swollen lip, my hair piled messy on top of my head. His jaw tightens at every mark.
I lift one brow. “If your face keeps doing that, I’m closing the door.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Doing what?”
“Look like you don’t like the marks you didn’t put on me.”
“I don’t.”
“You have two expressions. Murder and annoying.”
“Annoying is my charm.”
I roll my eyes.
