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A waiter brings our dishes, and I stifle back a laugh at the effort he'd put into this. More than anything, I'm wary about his intention and his sudden change of heart concerning me.
"I'm still a little confused, why go through all this trouble? I was already your prisoner," I mention, my tone skeptical.
"My brother doesn't know, does he?" He ignores my question as he asks.
"What?" I frown.
"You. He doesn't know you, does he?"
I blink, taken aback by his words.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say," I lie.
"Rafaelo hasn't changed much since our childhood. Sure, he has his stupid vendetta right now, which admittedly isn't unwarranted. But his core never changed."
"And that is?"
"He wants everyone to be happy. Hard to achieve, but he's an idealist. But most of all, he's a protector, isn't he?"
"I still don't see where you're going with this, Michele," I roll my eyes at him.
"He likes to take those smaller, and weaker than him under his wing. It's his weakness. He can't say no to someone in danger—to someone who cries for help. He has a thing for the underdog and those treated unfairly."
I school my features to not reveal my feelings on his assessment. Because heisright. And I can wager a guess where he's going.
"That's how you got to him, isn't it? You made yourself the victim," he smirks.
I blink, a twitch in my jaw at the wordvictim.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say carefully.
"You see, I had a very interesting conversation with this Lucero. She was very helpful in answering my questions and clarifying a few things for me."
"Why would you trust anything that comes out of her mouth?" I fire back. "This is a competition of sorts, is it not? After all, it's her or me. Of course she'd say anything to get ahead."
"That's where you're wrong," he leans forward, holding my gaze. "I didn't ask her about Rafaelo. I didn't even tell her about him. I only asked her about you."
I swallow uncomfortably.
"And?" I ask blithely.
He doesn't answer. He merely lets his lips widen in a feline smile.
"We're more alike than you think, Noelle. We see something we like, and we take it. Regardless of the consequences."
"I'm nothing like you," I grit out.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that. But you did propose the bargain. You want him, dead or alive."
"You don't know what you're talking about," I huff out, put on the spot.
I may be wicked, but I'm nothisbrand of evil.
"You've never been in love, have you?" I ask, satisfied when his eyes narrow at me, his hands balling into fists.
"Love is a foreign notion to me," he says carefully—too carefully.
"Who is she?" I demand sharply.
