He’d promised.
I turn to face Rafael. “Don’t call me that again. Ever.”
His lips tighten and he nods once.
I can’t stand here pretending I’m all right while my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces.
Rounding the counter, I brush past him and dash to the bathroom, my fingers tugging hair off my face. I’m not sure what angers me more, the fact Rafael called me “Butterfly”, or the fact that he’s gotten under my skin, leaving me helpless as a newborn colt. There’s no way I can get him out. I don’t want to. But how can I welcome a man into my life, love him, and let him love me, when I’m barely holding the seams together? Lilli hasn’t spoken to me in days. I’m anxious about the bank loan and Kravic’s money. And then there are Dad’s files. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I know I’m beyond my element. I feel like I’ve lost control of my life, and I don’t like it. Not at all.
I brace my hands on the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
You don’t lose until you lose, and you haven’t lost yet. You don’t give up until you’ve tried and fallen, and even then, you stand and try again. And again.
Rafael seems drawn to me. And I’m definitely pulled to him. I won’t lose the chance to experience how it feels to be loved by him now that I’ve gotten a taste of his intensity. Everything else will fall into place. I just need to be on my toes. Lilli needs time, and I’ll be here when she comes around.
Flipping the tap on, I splash cold water on my face. Grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser, I dab my face dry and glance at my reflection again.
Crap! I look like a broken-hearted fury: bloodshot eyes, hair loosened from my bun, flushed cheeks. I grab more tissues, run them under the cold water, and place them under my eyes to lessen the redness.
When I exit the bathroom, Rafael’s gone. Thank God! I can’t face him after freaking out like that.
I head back to my desk, but halt at the sound of something crashing inside his office. Seconds later, I fling his door open, heart racing. He stands by the window, his back to me, repeatedly digging his hands into his hair. His shoulders rise and fall with his rapid breaths. Shards of glass are scattered all over the floor to his right.
“Rafael?” He doesn’t answer, so I call his name again.
“What?”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just, that name, it stirs up memories.”
He turns to face me, his shoulders tense. The expression on his face is completely foreign. His eyes look haunted, as if he’s been to hell and back. Tortured. If there was a way to crawl inside his head and see how his mind works, I would. There’s so much more to Rafael Van Rees than his calm facade.
“Look, I lost someone who meant a lot to me, but I can’t fault you for using that name. I do have butterfly tattoos,” I say, trying to ease the frown from his face. “Just . . . don’t ever call me that again. Please.”
“So, we’re good?”
I nod.
His shoulders noticeably loosen as he inhales deeply. “Before you leave, I need an update on Club Illicit.”
By the time I reenter his office, the floor is free of glass. I sit opposite him, watching him from beneath my lashes. Oh man, why is he such a mystery? Just when I think I’ve figured him out, he throws a curveball at my head.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his gaze soft, yet wary. There’s something else in his eyes I can’t interpret. What am I missing? I feel like I’ve been doing that since we met--missing something. Maybe Simone will know what’s going on.
I nod.
He tilts his head to one side, his index finger tapping his upper lip, and suddenly images of me licking and biting that lip slam into my vision. I wonder if scientists have discovered a cure for Lustitis?
AS SOON as I settle at my desk, my phone beeps. It’s Dani, asking if we’re still meeting at Olivia’s Circle to take measurements for new curtains and seat covers. Since I’m meeting with Carsten, Jace, and Lilli as well, it would be great to get so much sorted out.
The red intercom light flashes just as I finish texting Dani. Rafael’s face appears on the tiny screen, looking all handsome and alluring and mysterious. For a guy who seems allergic to technology, he sure seems to have fun posing for the intercom.
“Sophie, before I forget, will you dig out the contract for the ‘Adopt Me, I’m a Pet’ dinner gala? There are some details we need to iron out before we invoice. Please print the report Hawk typed up, and we’ll go through it together, before I leave for Italy?”
I nod, waiting for him to continue, but he just stares at me through the small, two-way screen. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Actually, yes. What are you doing tonight?”
“Uh . . . meeting with friends. And my sister.”
Something crosses his face. “Well, then. Enjoy your evening. I’ve got everything covered,” he says, then seems to remember something. “One more thing--Alejandro will be flying in from Barcelona either this week, or next, for a day. He’s organizing an event in Barcelona, but might need some sample files. He can find whatever he needs in Hawk’s computer.”
I nod again. “Have a nice evening, Rafael.”
He leans closer to the screen, his voice low. “I was going to check out the art exhibition opening at the Belvedere Gallery tonight. Do you want to come with me?”
“Are you asking me out for a date?”
“Yes,” he says.
YES! “Can I take a rain check? Maybe we could work something out before you leave?” I say. As much as I’ve been waiting for this chance, I can’t just blow off my friends. Dani has some busy days ahead of her with her upcoming show in Paris, and she took hours off her schedule to help me today.
“I look forward to it.”
I clear my throat. “This might sound awkward . . . or not . . . but you seem like you were really close with my mom and Simone. Did you ever visit us?”
His eyes widen slightly. He leans back, his expression altering right before my eyes. His trademark look. Expressionless. Untouchable. “Your mom and Simone were there for me during my teenage years, so yes. We were really close.” He averts his gaze from the small screen. “Now, go home. That’s an order.”
“Sure,” I say. Is it so hard to say yes or no? I just need something to kick this niggling feeling out of my head. “Goodnight, Rafael.”
I open the drawer, scoop up my bag and helmet, and nudge it shut with my foot. Glancing one last time at Rafael’s office, I walk out through the glass doors and toward my bike.
Rafael
AS SOON as Sophie leaves, I stalk to the built-in glass cabinet and grab the bottle of scotch on top of it. Forgoing the glass, I yank the cap off and drink straight from the decanter.
It doesn’t help scour the taste of guilt and regret from my mouth. I’d need something much stronger for that.
My whole damn life has been a perfect lie. Pretend. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to survive. My only regret is not keeping Olivia safe. I should have, but I didn’t.
I don’t know where to go from here. My mind is so messed up right now, I can’t think straight. I knew this was coming. I chose not to dwell on it because I’m selfish. The thought of losing Sophie again just when I’ve found her, rips my fucking heart out. Worse, I wasn’t expecting her question to hit me so hard.
I bring the bottle to my lips, then stop, and slam it on my desk. Shutting my eyes, I relive the moment she rushed back to my office. I shouldn’t have smashed the glass on the wall. My world is spinning out of control, and I can’t do a thing about it.
When she’d rushed to the bathroom, I knew she was upset. She needed space and I gave her that. I can’t figure out why she doesn’t remember me, when she’s been my entire world. I’m a damn coward for not telling her who I am. I feel so fucking powerless, and I know I’m a dick for wanting this so much. For wanting her, even though I don’t deserve her. It doesn’t stop me, though.
I’ve been avoidi
ng thinking about my past. But right now, I’m desperate to go back to that innocent little boy I once was. I take another swig from the decanter, close my eyes, and let myself sink into my past. To the first time I met Sophie, and Olivia.
Fourteen years ago.
LAST NIGHT, I heard Mama and Papa arguing again. He shouted at Mama, making her cry. She cries every day, and I wish I could make her happy. She’s always so kind to me. She tells me I am the biggest, brightest star in her life.
Today, my parents look happy. I caught them in the hallway, kissing and laughing. The first time I’ve seen them that happy in a long time.
We’ll be flying to Vienna today, in the afternoon. Mama is visiting her friend, Olivia. They went to the Conservatory together for what Mama calls a “master’s degree in opera”. It sounds so cool, I want to get one someday.
I’ve never been to Vienna before. What if I don’t like it? What if Mama’s friends don’t like me? Papa says I’m not a very easy child. Mama says I’m the most loveable child in the whole world. I’m not sure who to believe, because I know there’s so much I’m not, compared to the other children my age.
I grab the voice recorder from the nightstand and press the red button to send a message to Hawk--I was supposed to spend the holidays with him. I hate to write. I’d rather speak to him this way.
As soon as I’m done, I take out the tiny cassette and enclose it in a yellow envelope Mama gave me. She said the little plastic bubbles inside will keep it safe. Mama’s already scribbled his current address in France on the front, so I just carefully place the stamp.
Mama yells from the hallway, asking if I’m done packing, and I tell her I was done two hours ago. She enters my room and hugs me. I feel safe. I always feel safe in her arms.
Thirty minutes later, we climb down the stairs, Hawk’s envelope in my right hand. Papa waits for us at the foot of the stairs, frowning as he looks at his watch. For just a second, I glimpse the man I remember from before--before the doctor’s test destroyed him. The test that changed my life, and strained my parents’ relationship.
He jerks his head toward the main entrance. “Good morning, son. The car is waiting outside.”
My heart twists as he turns and walks out the door without looking back. I should be used to this by now, but my heart still hurts, feeling small inside my chest. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me, or touched me. Every time I reach for him, he recoils, as if I’ll contaminate him. It hurts so bad, and I can’t do anything about it.
I push those feelings away like I’ve learned to do over the past five years. Mama crouches so that she’s eye level with me.
“I am so proud of you, Rafael Arie Van Rees.” She kisses the top of my head. “So damn proud. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And don’t let anyone tell you different.” Her gaze darts toward the door, then back at me. “He will come around, you’ll see. He loves you too.” She presses her lips on my cheek. I love how she smells. Like spring and laughter.
My heart mends again. “I love you too, Mama.”
“WANT TO come with me?” Mama asks, leaning against the doorway that separates my room from the rest of the hotel suite.
Papa left this morning. Said he’d be back in the evening. She’s been trying to convince me to go with her to visit Olivia, but I just want to stay in my room.
I glance down at the book in my lap.
“No,” I say. “I want to read. Papa asked me to read pages four through ten.” I hope when he comes back and sees I can do it, he will be happy. I want to make him happy.
Mama looks at the book, and blinks quickly. I’ve made her sad?
“You can take the book with you.” She walks toward me and the smell of spring fills the air, comforting. “Simone has a room full of musical instruments. You could play with Sophie, Olivia’s daughter.”
I don’t want to meet a girl. Girls are stupid. They giggle a lot and talk nonsense and cry like babies. At least, those in St. Xavier do. But the thought of playing music . . . I smile at Mama.
Her lips spread into one of those special smiles she reserves just for me. “Would you like to meet Sophie? It’s good to make new friends, sweetheart. I know Hawk is the only one who makes you comfortable. But try. Please, honey.”
I look at the book and frown. What if this girl, Sophie, laughs at me like most people do when they find out I can’t read? Maybe I could go, play my music, and ignore her. Pretend I don’t see her. She’ll get the hint and leave me alone. I haven’t played my piano or violin for a long time because Papa locked them away. Said if I ever wanted to have them back, I’d better be able to finish a book first. When Mama asked me about it, I lied. Because that’s what I’ve learned to do. I see how Mama loves Papa, and I want her to be happy. But I don’t understand how the same person she loves can be the one that makes her cry.
Thinking of music flowing from my fingers, I toss the book on the bed and leap from it. Girl or not, I’m going.
MAMA TURNS and waves at me. She’s been doing that every few minutes since we walked into the room. Sitting beside her is Olivia. She has brown, kind eyes and long, black hair. She’s pretty, just like Mama. Next to Olivia is a woman with very blue eyes, and black hair reaching her chin. Simone. This is Simone’s music room. If only I could live here. It’s so peaceful! I can still feel the impression of their arms from when they’d hugged me, as soon as Mama and I stepped into the room. It makes me feel like I’ve known them all my life.
Feeling a smile stretching my lips, I duck my head and stare at the piano keys, letting my fingers play the tune I’ve mastered in my head--Beethoven’s Sonata Quasi una Fantasia. One of my favorites. I close my eyes as the tune fills me, my heart racing. When I finish, I look up to find four pairs of eyes staring at me. Mama wipes hers, smiling. She always cries when I play. But I don’t think she’s said. She’s always smiling through her tears.
Suddenly, the extra audience--a girl with extremely big eyes that light up like fire--barrels toward me. She skids to a stop, grinning.
“I’m Sophie.” She sticks her hand out, and I just stare at it. She doesn’t look like the girl I’d pictured in my head. She seems so open. There’s no malice in her eyes, and her face resembles a pixie: delicate and small. She has a dimple on her chin. Her hair frames her face, falling down her back, and she looks like she might keel over carrying all that weight around.
I turn away from her and start playing the piano again, hoping she’ll leave me alone. She might be nice, but girls can also be mean. I won’t let myself be fooled by her pretty face. Undeterred, she scoots up onto the bench, snuggling closer. I scowl at her. She smiles brightly, tapping a finger on one of the black piano keys.
“You should leave.”
“Not until you tell me your name,” she says, pressing a white key.
“Why?”
“Because it’s rude to ignore a lady, especially if she introduces herself to you. My mom told me that.”
“Arie. Now, leave me alone.”
“Come and play with me.” She points to some stupid dolls on the carpet a few feet away.
My scowl deepens. “Playing with dolls is stupid.”
Her smile wavers. She presses her lips together and the little dimple on her chin glares at me.
Is she crying? What a baby!
She stands and drags her feet away without looking back.
Within minutes, Sophie and her dolls are out of my mind, along with every other person in the room.
It’s just me and music.
ON THE second day, Olivia invites us for dinner at her house. It’s beautiful and warm. There’s so much laughter here. Sophie’s father is away on business, and Papa didn’t come with us. I’m glad he isn’t here. Whenever he’s around, everything feels dark, and I can’t seem to breathe until he leaves the room.
Sophie is sitting across from me, smiling.
Again.
Doesn’t she ever close her mouth? I scowl at her, and then turn t
o look at her little sister, Lilli. She’s one, and has big eyes like Sophie. Lilli’s playing with her food, sending clumps of it flying everywhere. Olivia doesn’t seem to mind, though. She just touches her daughter’s cheek, the way Mama does to me when I’m sad.
“Arie,” Sophie whispers loudly. I bring my gaze back to her. She motions with her hand as she leaps from her chair, a mischievous look in her eyes. She turns to Olivia. “Can I leave the table, Mom? I want to show Arie the butterflies in my room.”
Olivia nods, distracted, as she listens to something Simone says. Mama smiles at me, nodding as if to say, “See? A new friend, and a girl, nonetheless.” I roll my eyes and stand to follow Sophie, my scowl still in place. Why the hell can’t she leave me alone?
She grabs my hand and drags me upstairs to a very pink room. Yuck. Can she be any more girly?
She pulls me to a stop in front of a glass, rectangular case set into the corner of the room. Her hand feels so small in mine. I kind of like the way she’s holding it, as though she never wants to let go. When she drops it, mine feels cool, and I have the sudden urge to snatch her hand back again. But I don’t. I take a step back, instead. She opens the lid to the glass, and shoves the same hand that had held mine inside. A blue butterfly with black lines outlining its wings flutters to a stop on her palm. She slowly slides her hand out of the box, making sure to close the lid, and turns to me.
“Here,” she says, staring at me with big, gold eyes that seem to strip a part of me away. “Come on, she doesn’t bite. It tickles a bit, but I swear, they don’t bite.”
I stretch my hand toward her, still staring into her eyes. She looks away for a second as she lines her palm with mine, turning it so the beauty in her hands does a little fly and hop. Moments later, the butterfly is on my palm.
For the first time in a long time, the corners of my mouth lift. It’s such a strange feeling. This girl managed to make me smile without even trying. My stomach feels weightless and my heart races in my chest at the sight of her. And, for a moment, I don’t remember how sad my life was without her, because she has a gift for making me forget.
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