His jaw tightens. “No matter. My job with Una is done.”
“So Anna is going to her?”
“Not exactly.”
23
Anna
I can hear men walking up and down the hall, the low hum of voices resonating from downstairs. Something is happening. Opening the door, I find Lucas standing outside, leaning against the wall and looking bored.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
He shrugs, straightening away from the wall. “No idea.”
A man leaves one of the bedrooms down the hall, moving towards us. “Ask him,” I prompt, nudging him with my elbow.
The man passes us. “Hey, do you know what’s happening?” Lucas stumbles.
“Boss is moving to another house.” And then he walks away. Moving. Rafael is leaving, and he hasn’t said anything to Lucas or I, so, does that mean he’s leaving me here? This strange panic creeps up my throat, and I inhale several deep breaths as an aching pain settles behind my ribs. I stumble towards the stairs, walking numbly through the house. People mill about, moving things, taking things, but leaving all the furniture.
I find Rafael in his office, his chair turned away from the door as he barks orders into a phone.
“I don’t care, just get it fucking done.” He hangs up and turns around, tossing his phone on the desk roughly. He pauses when he sees me, and the angry energy he wore only seconds ago seems to dissipate in a single exhaled breath.
“Anna.”
“You’re leaving,” I say, the accusation clear in my voice.
He leans back in his chair, both eyebrows raised. “Yes.”
I clench my jaw and swallow around the lump in my throat—the growing panic. I’ve become too vulnerable because he makes me feel safe. How many times have I told myself that safety is just an illusion? I know better than to grow attached to a man like Rafael D’Cruze, a bad man, a cartel boss, but it’s impossible not to feel…this for him, whatever this is.
Fighting back the hurt and the fear, I nod my head. “Were you going to say goodbye?”
He tilts his head to the side and crooks a finger, beckoning me forward. And of course, I go. Gripping my hips, he tugs me onto his lap. My hand lands on his chest as I try to keep some distance between us, but he won’t allow it. His nose trails the length of my neck, inhaling along my skin. “I’m not sure I can ever say goodbye to you, little warrior.”
My heart thumps awkwardly in my chest. “No goodbyes then,” I whisper, stroking my fingers over the rough stubble of his cheek.
He takes my hand, turning it over and kissing my wrist. Such innocent touches compared to what I’m used to and yet each and every one sends a little thrill of energy through my body. Sparks seem to dart over my skin where his lips connect, and I want him to kiss me all the time. Every day. But he’s leaving, and this was always a limited time situation. I thought I’d lost the ability to feel emotions a long time ago, but this hurts, a deep throbbing ache that echoes with every strangled beat of my heart. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, wanting to revel in his closeness, the comfort of his touch. And his is the only touch I want because he is my exception to everything this cruel life has taught me. His fingers thread through my hair, kneading against the base of my skull.
A small laugh breaks through his lips, warm breath caressing my face. “Anna, I’m not leaving you.”
I frown and pull back. “You’re not?”
“Only death herself could take you from me,” he says, his voice hard.
I fist his shirt and stare at my hand, so small against the broad expanse of his bulk. “Don’t do that,” I whisper.
His finger presses beneath my chin, slowly forcing my gaze to his. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t act like you won’t hand me over to Nero as soon as he wants me. This is just business remember.”
“Ah, avecita, this has gone far beyond business, and you know it.”
“You…confuse me,” I confess.
“It’s really very simple. I want you.”
Guilt niggles at me. “Rafe…” I start.
He presses a finger to my lips. “Not just your body, Anna. I want your darkness, your fire, your sheer will to survive.” He trails over my lips slowly. “I need this; your trust, the way you look at me as though I’m your savior, even when you know I’m really the monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Rafe.” Far from it. In a way, Rafael and I both became something we hated in order to survive. That’s what we are, survivors. I lean forward and kiss him, allowing a little rush of excitement to fill me, the warmth of his lips to soothe me. “But I still belong to Nero,” I say sadly.