Chapter 35
Rafael
It had been hard to keep the secret from Caroline for this long. Like a white-hot ball of anxiety, the information bubbled inside of me for weeks. But it was worth it to see her reaction. She froze, like this was all a suspicious dream. She glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded.
Then she squealed.
Her joy was contagious, flooding into my system like adrenaline.
She jumped up and down, losing her composure and acting like a teenager for the first time since I’d met her.
It shocked me how much her mood affected mine these days.
When she was down, so was I. And when she was elated, I couldn’t help but smile for her.
Until she threw herself into Harrison’s arms, clinging to him in a way that made my stomach tighten.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you thank you thank you!”
I wasn’t a jealous man, but it was impossible not to feel something as he returned her hug, one hand lightly touching the back of her head.
They had grown closer over the past month, spending a lot of time together at Harrison’s place.
And not just as biographer and subject. They were becoming something more.
I didn’t think they had actually hooked up yet. Harrison would have told me. But they were on an unmistakable trajectory.
My own feelings had become… complex. Since St. Kitts, Caroline and I had hooked up twice.
Both of them happening late at night, a booty call from me, followed by one from her.
Both times were perfect, full of grins and giggles and happy little goodbye kisses.
We had amazing chemistry, far more than I had ever felt from just a casual fling.
But there was one indisputable fact that loomed over it all: I couldn’t compete with Harrison. I could never compete with him. I was just the muscle behind the man, while he was a literal-fucking-billionaire. He could give her the kind of life I could never hope to offer a partner.
I had been thinking of ending it. Pushing her away before I could allow myself to get hurt. It was a shitty defense mechanism, but it had worked for me before.
We exited the plane, Harrison lingering behind to take a phone call. When it was just the two of us, Caroline turned and gave me the happiest little smile.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “Taylor Swift!”
“You’re very lucky,” I said.
“I KNOW!” she squealed, throwing herself into my arms.
A soft ache pressed against the inside of my chest. That’s when I made my decision. I would tell her tomorrow, when we were on our way home. After all, I didn’t want to do anything that might ruin her night.
They had rented an entire luxury resort in Montana for the wedding, cabins that looked rustic on the outside but were nicer than any five-star hotel once you walked inside.
A few hours later, after I had gotten settled, I walked over to Harrison’s hut and used my key to let myself in.
He gave me a perfunctory wave as he paced, his phone to his ear.
“Dyson’s stirring up trouble for the next board meeting,” he said when the call was done. “He’s still pissed about the Intel deal.”
“The man has more money than most small countries,” I said, “and he’s still finding ways to be upset.”
“We’re a competitive group,” Harrison said. “Supposedly, he used to be a relaxed guy, back before he sold his tech company. Money changes people, Rafa. If you had his net worth, it would probably turn you into a massive asshole.”
I smiled. “Fortunately, I have something he’ll never have.”
“What’s that?”
“Enough,” I replied. “I have enough.”
Harrison nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. I like that.” He turned to the mirror and adjusted his bow tie. “I have enough. But I like the game too much. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I stepped back from Blackstone and Moreau and retired.”
“You’d go crazy,” I agreed.
He frowned at himself in the mirror, then turned away. “Still though. The idea of settling down and starting a family is tempting. Sometimes.”
I thought about that as we left his cabin.
Caroline was waiting outside, and the sight of her nearly stopped me in my tracks.
She wore a gown that shimmered like moonlight poured into silk, the fabric slipping over her curves with an elegance that seemed both effortless and devastating.
Diamonds caught in her hair, glinting as she turned to watch us approach.
Every detail was a quiet torment for me.
Her lips curved in a smile, and I smiled back with all my heart. But the smile wasn’t for me.
“You’re looking quite dashing,” she told Harrison. “Throw in a British accent, and you could pass as James Bond.”
“I would say you would make an excellent Bond girl,” Harrison replied, “but that role would be beneath you. You might upstage the bride tonight, Ms. Fairfax.”
I stood to the side and watched Harrison kiss her lightly on the cheek. The ache of wanting her was sharp and breathless.
Then she took Harrison’s arm and gave me a private, giddy smile.
The resort was walkable, but golf carts zigged and zagged across the property, picking up guests and taking them to the ceremony venue. We rode in one, then Harrison formally gave his name to a man with an earpiece and a clipboard.
“Right this way, Mr. Blackstone,” he said, gesturing. Then, to me: “Bodyguards and other retinue are gathered in the space over here.” He gestured down a different path.
Harrison and Caroline were already inside the venue. My gaze followed her for another heartbeat, then I went my own way.
The ‘help’ were gathered in a luxurious building next to the ceremony itself. There was a full bar with three dedicated bartenders, and a buffet of food that made my mouth water. I went to the bar first, identifying the nicest bottle of whiskey on the shelf and ordering a double.
It went down smooth, but still couldn’t compare to the glass I’d shared with Caroline the first night we made love. That had more to do with the memory attached to it, and not because the bottle belonged to Napoleon.
I nursed my drink and took a look around the room.
There were a few personal assistants here, all of them wearing backpacks or messenger bags that held laptops and whatever their bosses needed.
But the majority of the people in the room were bodyguards.
Most of them were tall, broad-shouldered men whose mere presence would deter any would-be attacker.
But one of the bodyguards was a woman, and she was headed straight for me.
“You have expensive taste,” said Jasmin, a bodyguard who had flirted with me on St. Kitts. She leaned on the bar and gave me a knowing smile. Or maybe the smile was suggestive. Sometimes it was tough to tell.
“It’s not my fault,” I replied. “I’ve been spoiled working for Mr. Blackstone.
“I know how that goes.” She raised a hand toward the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having. And he’ll have another.”
I turned to give Jasmin my full attention. “I probably ought to get some food in my stomach before I get trashed. I’d hate to make a scene at this wedding.”
“That’s why it sucks to be the help. Everyone else can enjoy themselves, but we have to remain composed.”
“Always,” I agreed. “But how else would we get to be here, at the wedding of the century?”
Jasmin’s mouth twisted. “I’ve never been a Swift fan. I think she’s fake.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Speaking of thinking about things…” She accepted the whiskey from the bartender and knocked it back in three gulps. “How many times have our bosses met up? Twice? Three times?”
“Three sounds right,” I said carefully. Where was she going with this?
“I’ve flirted with you all three times,” she went on, giving me that same smile.
It was definitely suggestive. “And you’ve ignored my advances all three times.
I’m not a fool; I can take a hint if someone isn’t interested.
But that’s the thing: I think you are interested.
I’ve seen you checking me out when you think I’m not looking.
So I’m done flirting, and I’m going to be a lot more forward. ”
She stepped closer into my personal space.
“Want to come back to my place after the event?” she asked bluntly. “We can pretend I’m inviting you over for a drink, but it’s not a bottle of beer that I want to put my lips on.”
Fuck.
Jasmin was attractive, in a muscle-mommy sort of way. And she was my type. Normally, that kind of forwardness from a woman would have made my dick hard in the blink of an eye.
But I just didn’t feel it. Not tonight. Not with the way Caroline was occupying such a large part of my mind.
“Sorry,” I said. “You’re great, but…”
“You can stop right there.” She put a hand on my chest. “Message received. But I had to ask.”
I raised my glass. “Maybe another time?”
Jasmin downed the rest of her whiskey, then shrugged. “Maybe so. I hope it works out with her.”
I gave a start. “With who?”
“Whoever is currently torturing you.” She gave a final, pointed look, then sauntered over to another bodyguard, clasping hands with him and striking up a conversation.
I stared at the second glass of whiskey, then picked it up and took a sip. Was I really that obvious? I had always prided myself on having a good poker face, never letting anyone know what I was thinking about beneath the surface.
Putting the glass down, I went to make myself a plate of food. This was the wake-up call I needed. I had a problem, and the only way to fix it was to end things with Caroline.
A profound sadness came over me with that realization, but I quickly shook it off. That was life.
Eventually, all good things came to an end.