Page 48 of Mr. North
R aph: The house arrest ended, yes. But I haven’t left.
E verythingaround me seems to just…stop . The gentle hum coming from the fridge. The ticking of the small clock on the wall in the hallway. My own heartbeat. I stare at the words, trying to figure out what the hell he means by that.
M e: When was the last time you left your apartment, Raphael?
A gain, it takes him a long time to reply.
And then:
R aph: I haven’t left at all. I haven’t left the penthouse in five years.
* * *
W hen Raphael opensthe glass door to the apartment, the dark shadows beneath his eyes have worsened significantly. He gives me a brief, pained smile, then moves to one side so I can move past him. I’ve had plenty of time to compile a list of questions as long as my arm on the drive over here. I allowed him to send Nate for me this time. I needed to speak to him immediately, and the subway would have taken too long.
“You haven’t left this penthouse in five years. You’re trying to tell me that’s why the media doesn’t get shots of you anymore? Why no one’s seen you at meetings? Because you’ve been holed up here for five years?”
Raphael walks past me, down the hall. He heads for the huge lounge. I follow after him. “I go out onto the roof now,” he says quietly. “I didn’t do that before.”
Oh my god. This can’t be…he can’t be for real . “And the anteroom? That’s why you always meet people at that damned door? You rarely ever step foot into the anteroom. Only when Thalia was here, and when we…” I trail off uncomfortably.
Raphael opens up the fridge in the kitchen, taking out a bottle of water. “The ankle bracelet I wore would vibrate if I stepped out into the anteroom. I fucking hated it. It was a constant reminder that I couldn’t leave, so I just…stopped going out there.” He cracks the bottle and drinks; he still hasn’t looked me in the eye yet. He seems physically incapable of doing so.
“Raphael?” I’m standing directly in front of him now, but his gaze is still trained on the bottle of water in his hands. “Raph. You aren’t to blame for what happened to Chloe. If Nate says the brake lines were tampered with, then I believe him over your ridiculous self doubt.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says steadily. “I was convicted. I served the time I was sentenced.”
“Just because you completed two years’ worth of house arrest doesn’t mean that it’s over for you,” I say softly. “You obviously still carry the guilt of what you think you did around with you. Why else wouldn’t you have left your apartment in five years? Why else would you not be able to look me in the eye right now?”
He looks up at me slowly. His eyes are stark and sharp, quick and assessing, despite the tired, drawn expression he’s wearing.
“Staying here is safe, Beth. Staying here means no one can fuck with me, and I can’t fuck with them. And, yes. Looking at you is hard for me right now. I should have told you from the beginning about what happened that night. It kills me to think that I’ll see judgment in your eyes when I look at you. Or hatred. Or even pity. It’s just fucking unbearable.”
“I don’t feel any of those things, Raphael. If you see any emotion when you look at me, it’s because I’m hurting for you. You’ve punished yourself needlessly for so long. It’s all been for nothing.”
I haven’t always been the best at recognizing emotion when it comes to this man, but I can plainly see the doubt and pain he’s experiencing right now. It’s pouring off him in tangible waves that turn my stomach. He goes to take another sip from his drink, but I snatch the bottle out of his hands, sending a jet of water up into the air, spilling all over the counter and the floor tiles. “Don’t fucking hide behind a prop, Raph. You invited me here. You wanted to talk to me about this. Where’s the man who owned me when he fucked me? Where’s the fearless, dominant guy who told me he wasn’t afraid of anything?”
“He doesn’t exist, Beth! He’s not fucking real!” Raphael’s words explode out of his mouth, violent and angry. He was so calm a second ago, but now I can see how hard he must have been working to keep his feelings at bay. “It’s this place. I can be whoever I want to be inside the four walls of this apartment. I could be whoever I wanted to be foryou! But this is the truth. This ugly, awful, nightmarish truth. I killed someone. She was my girlfriend. She trusted me to take care of her, to get her home safely, and instead she ended up dead. So yeah. This is who I am. I wanted to keep things light with you. I wanted you to come here and play fucking chess with me, and that was going to be it. But I fucked that up, too. I developed feelings for you. I was fucking selfish. I should have told you not to come here anymore, and instead I made things so much worse. I kissed you. I pushed you. I fucked you up against those windows, and the whole world saw. And now you’re life has been turned upside down. You’ve lost your job. You can’t step foot outside your own fucking front door. I should be a better man right now. I should tell you not to come here again. I should tell you to leave and never come back, but I can’t. Now you know the truth, maybe you’ll be stronger than I am. Maybe you’ll walk out, and you won’t come back. I won’t blame you, Beth. I won’t stop you.”
His pain is a tangible thing. I’ve not had much time to think over the information I’ve just been given; I’m suffering because of it, too. It kills me to think of Raph in that situation, knowing the woman he was in love with was dead. Believing it was his fault. Yes, the fact that Chloe died is terrible. Yes, what happened on that was awful. I realized on my way over here, as Nate was babbling incessantly about Raphael’s innocence and generally saintly behavior ever since that day, that I’m not mad at Raphael, though. I do believe Nate. I don’t think Raph was responsible for what happened, and I want to do everything and anything I can to exonerate him. He’s been trapped up here in this penthouse for way too long. I understand how his mind works. He sees his exile at the top of the Osiris Building as justice, and so long as he feels guilt for what happened to Chloe, he’ll never leave. He’ll never be able to forgive himself.
I’ve already forgiven him, though. Raphael has such a firm grip on himself, so much self-control. He’s just not the kind of man who would get behind the wheel of a powerful sports car if he were overly tired or drunk. I have no evidence, no real proof that he is innocent of this crime, but every cell in my body is attesting to the truth of it, declaring it, screaming it out loud.
“You think after all of this, I’m just going to leave and give up?” I ask quietly.
It takes him a long, awful moment to answer. “If that’s what you want.”
“No! Of course it isn’t what I want!”
“Then what do you want?”
The question catches me off guard. I don’t know how to answer at first. Frustration takes a hold of me in the end, forcing a response from my lips. “I just want you! You spent so long convincing me that we’re meant to try and make this thing between us work, that I really started to believe you. I really started to listen. So…I just want you. I want your hands on my body. I want your mouth on my mouth. I want to feel everything you’ve promised me and more, Raphael. Fuck, at this point it’s more than just a desire for me. More than just a want. It’s a fucking need, and I demand for it to be filled.”
Shock. That’s what I see on Raph’s face before he masters his features. He lets out a long, shaky, nervous breath, then nods, smiling ruefully. “You’ve no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” he whispers. He really did think I was going to leave him. He really did think I was going to disappear from his life and never speak to him again. His whole body seems to loosen; it’s as if he was braced for impact a moment ago, and now that the hammer hasn’t fallen, he has no need for the anxiety and adrenaline that was surging through his veins.
Slowly, he slides his hand into his pocket and takes something out of it. Something small and shiny. Gold. Metal. Holding the object up to the light, Raphael shows me what he’s holding between his fingers. It’s a key, attached to a length of silken ribbon, green and vibrant, like his eyes.
“There’s a room in my home you haven’t been inside, Beth. A secret place I haven’t shared with you yet. If you’re sure for some reason that being with me, despite all of this, is something you want, then I’d like to show you now.”
