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4
Rafael
I smileas I watch Anna run from the bathroom. My chest heaves as I try to catch a breath. Shit. I can’t even find it within myself to feel ashamed. She came in here, she wanted to watch me, and fuck, if that didn’t make my dick rock hard. With her innocent eyes locked on me, I’ve never come in my own hand so hard. The girl turns me inside out, and she has no idea.
I rinseoff and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. I wonder how far she went? Will she be waiting for me in the bedroom? When I step through the doorway, I find it empty. Of course it is.
Anna is dancingthat fine line between inviting everything I want to do to her, and running from it as far and as fast as she can. My little warrior is curious. She’s never been truly touched, kissed or loved. I see it in her eyes every time she presses her lips to mine, a ravenous kind of need, but it’s so fucking innocent. And it’s that innocence that makes me both long to desecrate her and preserve her. I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so much in my life, but she’s not ready. Maybe it wasn’t wise to show her just how much I want her, but fuck, she shouldn’t come in here and look at me like that. A man only has so much restraint. At times I wonder if she was put in my life to test me, like some kind of punishment for failing Violet.
* * *
Carlos foldshis arms over his chest, leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s too quiet.”
I flickash off the end of my cigar and bring it to my lips. “He’s planning something.”
“He’ll make a move soon. He has to. He’s pulled all his dealers off the streets. That has to be hitting him hard.”
I don’t like it. I don’t like that Dominges might be ahead of me in any way. I strive to know every possible move an opponent might make, but he’s unpredictable and wily in ways that most of my adversaries aren’t. In any other situation, I’d almost appreciate the challenge of it all, but not when I know he wants Anna. Not when he’s successfully managed to take her once already.
“Start upping bribes. Someone has to know something. One of his men will sing for the right price.”
“And if they don’t?”
I lift a brow. “I don’t have to tell you how the cartel works, Carlos.” Blood and violence. The only real currency there is. If you can’t buy a man, you bleed him out.
With a small smileand a jerk of his chin, he straightens and leaves the room.
It’s lateby the time I leave the office, and as I drift down the hallway toward the stairs, I hear a sound, a lone, somber note echoing around the house. A piano note. Turning down the corridor toward the sunroom, I follow the sounds of more notes. The sunroom is bathed in moonlight, drifting through the windows and casting a silvery light over everything.
Anna’slone form sits behind what was once my mother’s piano. Her fingers glide over the keys slowly, as though testing them. I watch, as a solemn note becomes two and then three. She winds together a tune I’ve never heard before, and it’s so brutally sad, each note a painful stroke that weaves through the air like a growing cloud of despair. And yet, in each melancholy sound is a tortured beauty that is every inch Anna. I watch her play until she suddenly stops.
It’s onlywhen I hear the soft hitch of her breaths that I realize she’s crying. I feel like an intruder to her heartbreak, a silent witness to her pain. She was almost right when she said she was a lie. She’s two halves of a very splintered whole. On the one hand, she’s this strong, resilient, beautiful woman, and I am in awe of her. On the other, she’s so fucking broken, so dark and twisted and utterly ruined. And truthfully, it’s this raw, stripped version of her that calls to me on a visceral level. It’s the way she can pick herself up and morph from one to the other that makes me love her so effortlessly.
“Avecita,” I say quietly, stepping into the room. She quickly swipes at her tears, refusing to look at me.
“Rafael. I thought you were working.”
I sweepher hair away from her neck and place a small kiss below her ear. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was.” I fall into a crouch beside her stool and study her face. She drops her chin to her chest, allowing her hair to fall over her face. Reaching out, I tuck it behind her ear and swipe at a stray tear on her cheek.
“Don’t hide from me.”
“I had a nightmare. I’m fine.” She’s not fine, but I’ll let her pretend for a little longer.
“You play well.”
“One of the many gifts, The Master gave me,” she says bitterly. “I should take joy in it, but when I play, it just…hurts.”
“So why play?”
She turns to face me, those blue eyes of hers hard. “Sometimes, you do the things that hurt you, just to remind yourself that you can survive them.”
“So strong, little warrior.”
She staresat me for a beat, nothing but silence stretching between us until she finally breaks it. “Why do you try to fix me, Rafe?” she whispers.
“Why do you think?”
