Page 33 of The Senator: Raphael

I sit next to her, and she wrinkles her nose. “God. You smell like an ashtray. You stink!” She laughs.

“Sorry. I met some friends in a cigar room and now I think I have to burn this new suit.” I chuckle. “What is all this?” I gesture toward the papers.

“I was catching up on some homework.”

I frown and she sees my puzzled expression and clarifies. “I never got a chance to finish college. I was a senior at NYU when I testified and got put in the protection program. I couldn’t stay enrolled there and couldn’t transfer because with the new identity I had no records from a previous school. But I had this one professor who’s been helping me study for my courses, as though I’m still a student there. I think he suspects who I am, but we have this silent agreement where he doesn’t ask, I don’t tell. I’m studying for my MBA, but without the pressure of tests and finals. Isn’t that cool?”

She’s trying to be positive about it, but I can tell it’s forced. That testimony fucked up her life and my heart aches for her. I wish I could help, but even with all my money and connections, I can’t change her situation.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What were you studying?”

“Criminal Justice. I was going after a career in criminal law. I wanted to catch the bad guys, but apparently the bad guy got to me first and ruined that for me.” Her smile never reaches her eyes.

A pain stabs at my chest. God only knows how much I wish I could go back and save her from this life. If only I could carry this burden for her, give her a chance at the life she dreamed of. We’re so alike in our aspirations it’s almost ridiculous. The only difference is that I can and I’m working for it, and she got her wings clipped before she even learned to fly.

I lean closer to her, weave my fingers into her hair and crush my lips on hers. At first she’s surprised, but when my tongue slips between her lips, she melts in my arms. I drag her to my chest; her hands trail up my shoulders and get buried in my hair. A moan escapes her lips and I’m ready to catch it with mine. I need to feel her closer, kiss away her sadness, make her feel better. She doesn’t deserve the life she got. She doesn’t deserve to be punished for doing the right thing. She deserves to be happy, and I’ll do anything in my power to make it happen. She chose to help me because she wanted to do the right thing. Again. And I don’t want to be her punishment.

Someone once told me I have a hero complex because I want to save everyone who’s in need, even when they don’t ask for my help. I don’t want to be a hero. I just want to be the one that erases her sadness.

I’ve been hiding for years. Ever since the trial, I’ve been trying to be less noticeable than possible. I’m used to blending with the crowd, becoming part of the wallpaper, avoiding situations where other people notice me. I’ve never hidden from a kiss.

I’m still in bed when Raphael wakes up and goes to the bathroom. I’m wide awake but pretending to be asleep. That kiss last night was incredible. It took my breath away and for a long moment, I forgot we were pretending.

It was easy to forget because no one was around, we didn’t have to put on a show. He just kissed me out of the blue and now I don’t know how to act around him.

I can hear Raphael walking around the room, getting ready for his day. He steps lightly to the door of the bedroom and stops for a long moment. I don’t know if he knows I’m awake, avoiding a confrontation with him, but he seems to hesitate before walking out the door and closing it softly.

Half an hour later, I’m heading to the kitchen and there is no trace of Raphael. I sigh in relief and immediately feel guilty for it. It’s immature to avoid facing him, but I need to wrap my mind around that kiss before I speak with him.

On the counter I see a plate under a plastic cover with a post-it on it. Raphael’s horrible handwriting makes me smile. He’s perfect in many ways, but handwriting is not his strong suit.

Eat breakfast, then try this.

There’s a key under the note. I frown, not sure what does it means. Putting post-it and key aside, I remove the plastic lid and smile when I see toast, jam, yogurt, and fruit. He knows this is my favorite breakfast and I appreciate that he remembers it. A pang of guilt hits my chest because avoiding him sounds awful after he took the time to prepare this. Maybe that kiss was nothing to him and this is just another normal day. I’m the one overthinking it, and the guilt turns to disappointment.

I shouldn’t be disappointed. I should be indifferent, and this realization scares me.

I sit down and eat my breakfast, picking up the key from time to time. I wonder what it is. As soon as I finish eating, I walk around the house looking for a door to open. Excitement bubbles in my chest. I feel like a kid trying to spy what her parents got for her birthday: a bit eager, a bit scared to be discovered, very naughty for doing it. It’s silly, but it’s been a while since anyone thought about me enough to surprise me with anything.

It doesn’t take me long to find the door. It’s to one of the many guest rooms in this mansion, and the only locked room besides Raphael’s home office.

When I open it, my jaw drops. The room is completely stripped bare, the bed and dresser gone. The only things left are a desk and a chair in the middle of the space. I walk into the room and see my laptop and notes neatly laid out on the desk. A post-it similar to the one in the kitchen is attached to my computer.

It will take a lot of work to make it feel like home, but this is a start. This is your office, where you can study, work, or spend personal time. You deserve a place where you can be yourself. Raphael

I feel tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. He gave me an office. He gave me an office to be myself. I’m so used to being someone else that I don’t even know who I am. He understood that and gave me a space where I can find out.

I have no idea how he pulled this off without me noticing, but this is the best present anyone has ever given me. And the weight of that kiss becomes even heavier.

***

“I thought he’d locked you up in his bedroom and thrown away the key.” Lola greets me with a scowl.

I cringe inside. My life has been so hectic in the last month that I forgot about her. It’s like I stepped into another dimension and my previous life was completely erased. Sort of what happened eight years ago, but without the trauma of a murder.

“Sorry about that. My life is upside down right now.” I cringe at the bland explanation.

She rolls her eyes but smiles while we sit in the sand on a Malibu beach. I chose this place because it’s less crowded than Venice Beach or Santa Monica, so less people will notice the huge bodyguard dressed in a black suit a few feet behind me.

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