Page 21 of Deal with the Devil
Any thoughts about my investigation fall by the wayside. I can’t bring myself to give a fuck about them when I’m here enjoying dinner with a man I had very real, very intense feelings for. Regardless of who he might be affiliated with or where he got his start in Italy.
Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, Iknowwhat comes after; eventually I am going to have to return to these things and find answers for the many questions piling up.
But in the moment as Rafael and I cut into our steaks and sip our wine, I decide to let it go.
For now, for tonight, we’re two exes enjoying each other’s company. The rest can wait ’til tomorrow.
When we leave Sullivans and he offers to give me a ride back to my place, I’m so overcome I’m not ready for the night to end. He’s not either, his eyelids low and his hands hovering on my waist as I lean closer into him.
“Where are you staying?” I ask. “Maybe we can go back to your hotel for a drink or two.”
The insinuation is clear. The energy between us is thick and unmistakable.
He pulls me closer, his hand slipping lower down my back, toward my ass. “I’m at the Echelon Hotel a few blocks away. My driver can have us there in five minutes.”
A small smile teases my lips as I let my hands slide up his chest. “Sounds great.”
6
RAFAEL
Her scent lingers evenin my sleep. It’s a blend of floral notes like roses and jasmine with a hint of something warmer and spicier, like sandalwood. I’ve come to memorize the smell, finding it both soothing and arousing all at once.
I turn over in bed, eyes still closed, arm stretching out to reach for her. For no other reason than because it’s instinctual. Some intrinsic urge of mine even after so many months apart. I reach for the woman I’m obsessed with like I expect to find her in my bed.
Then the morning sun floods me and I jerk awake, realizing the curtains must be open and I must’ve slept in.
Ineversleep in. My idea of sleeping in is waking up minutes before dawn.
So as I sit up in bed and the sunlight bursts into the room and the clock on the hotel nightstand reads ten in the fucking morning, needless to say, I’m shocked.
Where did the time go? And more importantly, what the hell happened last night?
I run a hand through my already disheveled hair and look around the room. My clothes are discarded on the other side, slung over an armchair like I’d been in a rush.
There’s a bottle of Cabernet on the table by the balcony and two near-empty glasses. The second has red lipstick on the rim…
The last thing I remember about the night was dinner. I’d invited Portia to Sullivans for dinner. She was a few minutes late, which was unlike her, but then she turned up. The image of her entering the front doors materializes in my head, backlit by the amber lighting.
She’d looked so damn gorgeous in a sleek black dress and red lipstick.
I rose to my feet to meet her and pull out her chair.
And then… and then…
Nothing.
Last night is a blank space in the reels that are my memories.
I run more fingers through my hair, growing irritated with myself. Did I drink myself blind like some dumbfuck cazzo? Did I make a fool of myself in front of Portia and she walked out?
It’s as I lower my hands that I finally notice the bruises on my knuckles and blood under my nails.
I go still at the sight.
Where thefuckdid this come from?
I get up and start toward the bathroom at a fast stride, stopping after only a few steps once I spot what’s at the foot of the bed.
