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How long had he been at the hacienda already? He thought it must have been months at that point, but they felt like years. Time didn’t have a true meaning for him anymore—not when his mind was just one big void that seemed to swallow up everything around him.
He blinked furiously as he tried to remember what had happened and why he was feeling so ill—almost as if he’d been run over by a truck.
There were some details that immediately came back to him. He’d been sold to the hacienda after Armand had died. Initially, he’d been working at the temple. He frowned. For some reason, he’d been locked in isolation, but he could not recall why. There was a brief image of an altercation, but no context behind it. And after the isolation…
The drugs.
His body tensed as that particular detail came back to him. He’d been moved to a different facility and had been regularly fed some drugs. Yet as much as he tried to remember more, he couldn’t.
He didn’t know what type of drugs, or what they did to him. He only knew that his body was weary, his muscles aching beyond belief. Whatever they were doing to him was affecting his health on a larger scale.
Then there was also her.
Lucero.
The voice leading him towards the light.
Unfortunately, no matter how much Raf sought to focus on her, he could barely grasp onto her. Her presence in his memories was tenuous at best. He knew her. He knew she was there. But most times, he didn’t know what was real and what was a product of his imagination.
She used to come speak to him through the wall. Of that he was sure.
They’d talked tirelessly about anything and everything, sharing all their hopes and dreams, but also their past and their regrets.
Some conversations, he could remember word by word. Others, he had to wonder if he hadn’t dreamed them up.
Yet as he honed onto the idea of Lucero, another face popped into his mind—one that was as beautiful as it was cruel.
“Goddamn it,” he cursed out loud.
Why did he have to think ofher?
Yes, she might have made an impression since she was quite honestly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But he’d quickly learned just how deceiving those appearances were.
Why the hell did he have to pictureher? He doubted she’d ever spared him a thought, even when he’d saved her. And going by what Lucero had told him about her, she was a bitter bitch to herfriendsas well.
His lips pulled back into a snarl, his hands curling into fists.
He didn’t know why he hated her so much. Of course, there was the obvious fact that she’d treated him like dirt. But there was more, wasn’t it?
The guards treated him like dirt. The master treated him worse than dirt. So why the hell did it matter so much whatshethought of him?
Rafaelo didn’t know.
His mind must be playing tricks on him. He should be focusing on his Lucero, not wasting time thinking about a cruel bitch that got off on humiliating others. So what if she was an attractive woman? She was also rotten to the core and Rafaelo wanted nothing to do with her.
Guilt swarmed into his heart.
His love and attention belonged exclusively to Lucero. He shouldn’t spare a thought for another woman that wasnother.
He supposed this all stemmed from the fact that while he knew who Lucero was at her core, he didn’t know what she looked like. If he did, maybe he would have picturedherinstead of that odious bitch.
But the fact of the matter was that he had only a vague idea of what she looked like. He had the descriptions he’d heard about her, and he had some foggy image of seeing her from a distance. But aside from her light hair and her small build that he’d seen from afar, he couldn’t envision her at all.
Getting his bearings together, he groaned out loud as he rolled off of the bed. He was a little wobbly as he got to his feet, moving tentatively around the room.
He reached a table, and pouring himself a glass of water, he drank greedily as he let his eyes roam about the room.
Odd how despite knowing that he’d been there for a while, it all felt so strange, almost as if he couldn’t trust his own memories.
