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“Like diamonds.”
“I don’t want to be a diamond.”
“What do you want to be?”
“A lump of coal.”
There it is again. An almost smile. “Then you’re a precious lump of coal.”
“Be careful, bodyguard. I’m going to think you’re flirting with me.”
His eyes meet mine. “And if I am?”
“Madam will kill you.”
“Let her try.”
His large hand cups the side of my face. The music around me goes dim. My heart pounds. His breath is warm at my lips.
When he kisses me, his beard scratches my cheeks. His tongue curls in my mouth, claiming me. It’s hot. And intense. And—
Completely in my imagination. The tempo changes, but Archer and I are still sitting chastely side by side. Not kissing. Not touching. Not even moving.
But suddenly, I find it hard to catch my breath. The lace at my throat chokes me, and I want to rip it from my body.
“Drinks!” Raphael says, appearing with a large yellow drink with pineapple stuffed in the top.
Before he can trap me back in the booth, I quickly exit it. “Thank you. I’m sorry—I just, I need a minute, I’ll be right back.”
My heart won’t stop pounding. Is it panic? Or arousal? I can’t read my own emotions.
But I don’t get far.
I’ve barely made it a couple of steps from the table when Raphael’s hand snakes around my arm and grips.
“One moment,” he says, and he’s wearing this malicious smile. It’s the smile of a man who has just posted a “kick me” sign on the back of his best friend—the sadistic glee of a good joke at someone else’s expense.
“Raphael.” I use his name. I try to protest it. I’m dizzy from the flashing lights, and I need cool, crisp, fresh air.
But either he doesn’t hear me over the music, or he doesn’t care, or both. He drags me over to the DJ booth, where a white man in dreadlocks is scratching records.
My eyes fall to the ground. Koi fish dart back and forth underneath me, as though they’re trying to send me a cryptic warning.
Raphael says something to the DJ that I can’t hear, and the music cuts suddenly. He takes the microphone and taps it.
“Hello?” he says. “Can you hear me?”
All eyes turn to us.
Including Archer’s. I feel his dark stare all the way across the room.
I want to melt into the floor, but Raphael still has his strong grip on my arm.
He draws his hand down and links his fingers in mine. Then he raises my hand up with his, as though I’m an Olympic athlete who has just won gold. “Friends!” he shouts over the microphone. “Can I get a rousing happy birthday to this girl here?”
The place explodes into a cacophony of hoots, hollers, and happy birthdays. I feel my cheeks go hot. I smile politely, lift my hand in a small wave, and mouth a thank you.
I try to pull away to bow out from the public humiliation. But he doesn’t let me go. Instead, Raphael turns to me and continues. “It’s been almost ten years since you came into my life. You were…so lost. So alone. And my family gave you a home.”
