15. Jealousy IgnitesRafael
Fifteen
Jealousy Ignites
Rafael
I sit in Milos’ office, the air heavy with cigar smoke. The leather chair beneath me groans as I lean back. Milos drones on about the wedding plans, making my head hurt. Layla sits across from me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, but her eyes… they’re far away. She’s not here. Neither am I.
I’m in a different world—a world of her. Mila.
The memory of her tonight burns behind my eyes like a lit cigarette pressed into flesh. The way she sat there, poised, polite, indifferent. It made my skin crawl. She didn’t care. Not a goddamn flicker of jealousy in her eyes at the thought of me slipping a ring onto another woman’s finger.
It shouldn’t matter to me. I know that. But it does.
My jaw aches from grinding my teeth through dinner, through her smiles at Anatoly, through the way she tilted her head when she asked him to dance. That fucking smile. Like I wasn’t sitting right there. Like I wasn’t the man whose hands had been on her, whose lips had devoured every goddamn breath she had to give.
She’s mine.
The fact she doesn’t think she has any claim over me? It’s maddening. She should feel possessive of me, the same way I feel when I see her even glance at another man.
Anatoly. I wanted to snap his neck. She doesn’t know how close I was.
“…end of the month,” Milos says, cutting through my thoughts. I lift my gaze to him, but his words barely register. He’s talking about dates and timelines, and I don’t give a shit. I did this whole thing to punish Mila, to hurt her… But that isn’t the reason her indifference guts me.
Layla shifts in her seat, but her silence doesn’t bother me. I twirl the strand of hair in my pocket between my fingers. Mila is different. She claws her way into your soul, leaving scars in her wake. Layla for me, is just there.
“I’ll leave the finer details to the women,” Milos says, smirking like he’s cracked a joke.
I see her through the office window. Mila. She’s leaving the mansion. Where the hell is she going?
My body moves before my mind can catch up, pushing back the chair as I stand abruptly. Milos doesn’t even get the courtesy of an excuse as I leave, his words cutting off mid-sentence.
By the time I’m in the driveway, she’s already there, the guards standing uselessly as she moves toward the waiting car. My blood roars in my ears as I stride toward her.
“Where are you going?” I bark.
She freezes for a second but doesn’t turn around. “None of your business,” she screeches.
I grab her arm and spin her around, pulling her flush against me. I have no concern for the gawking guards. I don’t give a damn who sees.
“I asked you a question,” I hiss, my grip firm. “Where are you going?”
Her face twists with frustration, a fire sparking in her eyes that always pulls me under. “To a physics convention, if you must know!” she screams back, practically spitting the words at me.
The guards shift awkwardly, keeping their distance. They know better than to interfere.
“I’ll take you,” I demand.
She shakes her head, her hair brushing my face as she pulls back. “It’s not appropriate to go out with my sister’s future husband. Sorry.”
Layla chooses that moment to step into the scene, Anatoly, who came with me, is trailing behind her. They both freeze, their eyes darting between us. Milos apparently decided to skip out on the chaos.
Mila’s eyes flick to them, and then back to me. She knows what she’s doing, setting me up to burn.
My voice lowers, enough for only her to hear. “Do you even know the stakes, Mila? Do you know what people would do just to get me to look their way? My name is on you now. Do you think for a second that’s safe? For you?”
Her eyes narrow, her chin tilting up in defiance. “I can do whatever I want. I have my guards. I don’t need you.”
“Your guards are incompetent,” I snarl.
“I’ll go with Anatoly, then,” she says suddenly, turning to him. “If he doesn’t mind.” Her words are casual, but I know her better than that.
It’s like gasoline on an open flame.
“You’re not going with him.”
“Stop it, Rafael!” .
The words grind out of me. “Not with him.” My eyes snap to Anatoly, who’s still watching.
“Why? Afraid he’ll actually enjoy my company?”
My fist tightens at my side, and the world narrows. Layla’s eyes are wide as she watches the unfolding chaos.
“Either with me, or you’re not going,” I say again, my words cold, final.
“Watch me.”
Mila shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Are you jealous?” she taunts.
“No,” I snap, but it’s a lie, and I know it. Goddamn, I am.
“I’ll be going, Rafael. It’s either with my guards or Anatoly. Your choice.”
I don’t respond immediately. My jaw tightens, my fists clench. She’s pushing me, daring me to make a move. I’ll make the move, Mila, don’t worry about that.
I hate it, but the words come anyway. I don’t have time to argue with her stubborn ass forever. “Anatoly,” I growl.
Before he can move, I grab him by the collar, dragging him close enough that my next words are only for him. “Touch her and die.”
Anatoly doesn’t flinch. He chuckles instead, shaking his head slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He knows what she means to me. He knows better.
But before he can even take a step, Layla’s hand snakes out, wrapping lightly around his forearm. She glances up at him, her grip lingering a second too long. Her gaze flickers briefly, hesitation, something unspoken, and then she turns to Mila. “How about you take Rafael, Mila? If it’s safer…”
Interesting.
I catch the subtle shift in Anatoly’s posture, the way his eyes dart to Layla’s hand before she lets go. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s there. Something.
“No,” Mila snaps, cutting through whatever moment just happened.
She strides toward the car, yanking the passenger door open and sliding in before I can say another word. Anatoly takes the driver’s seat without hesitation, the picture of composure, but I see the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
As the car pulls away, I stand there, watching, my blood boiling. Mila’s taunt echoes in my head. Are you jealous?
Hell yes, I am. But the worst part? She knows it. And she’s using it against me. My plan backfired. It’s me burning now, not her.
Layla clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Um… how about we discuss the wedding a bit more?”
Good God. The last thing I want to do. But I nod, gesturing for her to go on. She just watched me unravel over her sister. The least I can do is humor her, I suppose.
We head to the living room, and she pulls out her phone, scooting closer on the couch to show me a series of venues.
I can’t even pretend to care. My eyes drift to the window, to the door, to anywhere but her.
She sighs, setting her phone down. I feel her staring before I turn to meet her eyes.
“When are you going to stop pretending you’re not in love with her?” she asks quietly.
Everything in me stills.
“Stop with the nonsense,” I say flatly.
But she doesn’t back down. “You look at her like she’s your enemy, but you love her. Anyone can see it.”
I lean forward, locking eyes with her. “And what makes you think I look at her like she’s my enemy?”
Layla bites her lip. Then, in a barely audible voice, she mutters, “I overheard your conversation in the bathroom.”
The words barely land before I’m on her. My hand snaps to the gun at my side, pressing the barrel to her temple. Her breath catches, and her lips part in a soundless gasp.
“I’m not an easygoing man, Layla.”
“I—I know,” she stammers, her body trembling under the pressure. “Please… forgive me. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
It’s the fact that she looks so much like Mila that makes me pull the gun away. Layla exhales shakily but doesn’t move.
“Why don’t you learn to forgive her?” she whispers. “At least her. She was young, na?ve. She didn’t know what she was doing.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, dark and humorless, filling the space between us. Layla flinches, her shoulders curling inward like she’s trying to make herself smaller.
“Forgiveness isn’t in my nature,” I say, leaning back, the gun still in my grip. “And I’m not your salvation, Layla. I’m going to destroy all of you.”