“Ras—”
The door slams behind him.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Okay, I earned that.
That man probably has my vomit somewhere on his shirt, and here I am being an asshole before he’s even had a chance to change his clothes.
I’ll need to fix that.
Add it to the never-ending list.
But it’ll have to wait until after that shower. I move to the bathroom. A strip of light from the skylight above bisects the space. I step into it and turn to the mirror.
A gasp escapes me.
My makeup’s gone.
And on my left cheek, there’s a fading bruise.
Five hours later, I’m showered, dressed in clean jean shorts and a button-up blouse, and my things are all packed up in the trunk of Ras’s car.
“We need to make a short detour to my apartment before the airport,” he says gruffly as we exit the driveway of the house. Behind us, two guards draw the gate closed and wave goodbye.
I pull down the sun visor and check my reflection in the small mirror. Ras hasn’t brought up the bruise he had to have seen, and that makes me nervous. I mean, it was obvious until I meticulously covered it up with makeup a few hours ago. Why hasn’t he asked how I got it?
Or did he?
He seems like the type that wouldn’t let something like that slide.
Another fuzzy memory surfaces briefly before I lose the thread.
My lips pinch together. It’s so frustrating to only have glimpses of what happened over the last few days.
Ras would mention the bruise to Vale. She texted me earlier, checking in on how I was doing, and she made no mention of it.
It’s strange.
I shift in my seat. Have they already made up their minds about what happened? That would be bad. Very bad. I need to set everything straight, but if I bring it up, I might just make it seem like a bigger deal.
If Vale finds out Papà hits me, there will be no coming back from it. Our family would be finished. It would be civil war with repercussions I can’t even attempt to imagine.
When did everything get so damn complicated? So messy?
I close the sun visor with a loud snap and glance at the man beside me.
“How far is it?”
“Not far. Ten minutes.”
He’s so angry with me. It’s been curt responses and zero eye contact ever since he came to collect me from the bedroom, and it bothers me.
A lot.
“Ras?”
Silence.
“Ras?”
His jaw hardens, but he says nothing,
“Ra—”
“What?”
“Look, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I open my mouth and shut it, unsure how to phrase it. I settle on, “For what I said. For assuming the worst.”
“It’s fine, Gemma. You already made it clear what you think of me the night of Mari’s wedding.”
I wince. “Yes, well, things have changed since then.”
“Have they?”
“It’s not lost on me that you didn’t have to—”
“Oh, but I did. I was just doing my damn job.”
“Why didn’t you ask someone else to watch over me? One of the staff?”
“I did. And then you woke up crying five minutes after I left. You were inconsolable. The staff called me back. Took me a half hour to get you to calm down.”
That renders me speechless.
My bottom lip makes an embarrassing tremble as I attempt to process what he just told me. He had to comfort me for half an hour while I cried? Did I mentally revert to a five-year-old child?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You kept saying how you didn’t want to be alone.”
A bitter taste floods my mouth.
I hate being alone. It terrifies me.
I’m not even sure why. Probably some incident from my childhood that I can’t remember. I don’t have a lot of clear memories from when I was a kid.
So I’d lived through one of my fears with Ras watching me from a front-row seat.
But he didn’t just watch.
He helped me through it, not leaving my side for two whole days, and even though I can’t recall everything, I recall enough.
His gentle touch against my skin. His soothing words when I was scared.
His familiar scent.
I cup my hands over my face as a realization cascades through me.
I don’t hate this man anymore.
CHAPTER 13
GEMMA
“Gemma?”
I blink, snapping out of my trance. Ras is holding the car door open, his hand outstretched, and his expression questioning. He’s probably wondering what’s going through my head. If only he knew.
“We’re here.”
It takes me a moment to process the fact that we’re in an underground parking lot.
“Oh.”
I give him my hand, and his warm grip swallows it for the second it takes me to hop out of the car. Something zings lightly beneath my skin, and I shiver.
“Come on. This will only take a moment.”
I shake out my hand and follow behind him.
As we walk through the lot, we pass by a man with gray hair and a name tag. When he sees Ras, his face breaks into a smile, and he waves. They exchange a few friendly words in Spanish, and Ras laughs at something the man says. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his whole face lights up.
It’s…devastating.
My heart flips inside my chest.
Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with me? The fact that Ras is handsome has never been lost on me, but I’ve always managed to ignore it. I usually filter that part of him out of my awareness.
The last few days must have broken that filter.
“You coming?”
My head snaps up to see Ras arching a brow at me. “Yep.”
We get to the elevators, and Ras gestures for me to go in first. He uses a fob, presses on the button labeled A, and comes to stand by my side.
“What does the A stand for?”
“Ático.”
“What is that? Penthouse?”
“Yes.”
“Fancy. Have a lot of guests?”
“Used to.”
The elevator moves at a glacial pace, giving me plenty of time to bask in the awkwardness between us. I might no longer hate him, but Ras seems intent on drawing a clear line between us.
I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the banter. It felt far better than this cool indifference.
Ras’s biceps brushes against my arm. His scent fills the tiny space.
Vanilla. Chocolate. Burnt wood.
Something tightens low inside my belly. Why does he have to smell so good?
I roll the hem of my shirt between the tips of my fingers and shoot him a sidelong glance.
He’s not looking at me. He’s focused on the elevator door, and a thick vein pulses in his neck.
When I let go of my shirt and accidentally brush my arm against his again, his jaw tightens.
Ding.
The door opens, and we both move at the same time.
Our bodies collide.
“Shit—”
“Sorry—”
Those big palms wrap around my shoulders, steadying me. Our eyes meet. His flash with some foreign emotion that he quickly blinks away.
“Go ahead.” He nudges me forward with a tap against the small of my back.
I feel lightheaded as we step directly into his place.
My mouth parts. The apartment takes up the entire floor, but it’s not the sprawling size that impresses me. It’s the view. On the other side of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows lies the Mediterranean, and the peninsula of the island wraps around it like a soft embrace.