Page 69 of Damián

“On it.” I lift the book in a casual goodbye wave and head toward the door, but Rafael steps into my path. “Move,” I warn him.

“Enjoy all the drugs and dicks you like so much while you still can, because when I run things, you won’t be able to get away with shit.”

In the next second, I raise the heavy notebook and strike Rafael across the face with it. The skin above his eyebrow splits open, and bright red blood gushes from it.

Don’t faint, Oliver. Please, God, don’t faint.

“You’ll never run shit,” I scream at him as he stumbles backward, dropping to the floor in shock.

I drop to a crouch, grab him by the collar, and drag his bleeding face close to mine.

“You need to get this into your small fucking head, Rafael… Yeah, you are good at killing. So what? I could buy six hundred of you tomorrow.”

I slap him across the face.

My hand is shaking from the adrenaline and fear, but I move too fast to give either of them time to notice how scared I am.

“The day you are capable of solving a quarter of the shit my brain solves while high is the day Father will finally see a shred of worth in you as the heir. In the meantime? Shut the fuck up, let the adults handle their own lives, and don’t ever get in my way again.”

I release my grip, letting Rafael slump back against the floor, and walk out of the office before my eyes start to water.

And as I walk down the hall, I honestly don’t know what disturbs me more… the sheer, murderous hate I saw in Rafael’s eyes, or the pride I saw in my father’s.

I reach my room, get inside, and lock the door. In the time it took me to get the book and come back, Martin had already set my table with breakfast, the ingredients for ten mimosas, and a clean silver tray so I could cut and inhale the coke.

Level of service, ladies and gentlemen.

I throw the notebook across the room and collapse onto the carpet. My entire body is shaking.

Ugh… maybe I am a chihuahua and not a corgi…

Still, no matter what dog breed I am, right now I’m drowning in a dozen different emotions at once.

I hate doing this.

I hate how violent I have to be. I hate it with all my heart.

But after the incident three years ago, I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep Rafael from becoming the heir, and unfortunately, humiliating him with violence is the easiest way to keep him from rising. Because there is no way my father will ever let someone he perceives as weak take the throne.

Any other day I pulled a stunt like that with Rafael, I would’ve felt sick for hours. I would’ve felt trapped and terrified, and it would’ve taken at least half of the movie The Holiday for me to feel better and calm.

But strangely… I don’t feel that way today.

Yes, I am trembling, and yes, I’m in shock. But I also feel… okay.

I unbutton my shirt pocket and pull out the folded list Damián gave me.

Yeah, yeah, I’m a fucking idiot for carrying this around with me.

But holding this piece of paper makes me feel electrified. It gives me a new sense of purpose and a feeling I’ve rarely ever had: like someone is actually sharing this burden with me.

I’ve been trying to pretend that the fact Damián had it, and exactly how he passed it to me… has nothing to do with this sudden rush I feel.

But please, who am I kidding?

My body has been on fire since that night, still tracing in my memory all the places where he touched me, where he kissed me.

Would he be thinking the same?