Chapter 43 Rafael
Rafael
Two months later
The French armoire glistens in the late-afternoon European sun, taunting me. But no matter how hard it is to watch, not watching would be even harder.
‘They have a wedge heel, and this really pretty detailing on the strap,’ she says, her smile bright as she holds up the brand-new shoes she’s unboxed so the camera can pick them up.
‘My dad and I are going to the local market later, so I’m going to wear them with this dress.
’ She gestures to the white broderie sundress she has on.
Her blond hair is flowing around her shoulders and she’s a vision in white.
She looks like a goddamn angel.
That day in the hospital, and the day I left her in the helicopter . . . She cried for me.
She loves me.
I’ve spent my entire life since my accident avoiding it. Then when I finally got it, allowed myself to want it, I screwed up royally.
I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.
‘Jesus.’ I scrub a hand around my jaw, my eyes burning.
I’ve done this every day, watched her vlogs, the same as I always did. Only now instead of my dick throbbing, it’s my goddamn heart.
She’s been gone two months, and I’ve died a little more each day without her.
But I knew letting her stay would have killed her eventually.
She wouldn’t have known it to start with, but if I’d let her come with me that day I returned her father to her in the helicopter, then she wouldn’t have had what she needed: time.
Time to reconnect with him without anyone else placing demands on her attention.
Time to heal together after what they’ve been through, if healing is even possible.
And time to decide for definite if I’m worthy of her.
If she still loves me enough to truly forgive me deep in her heart.
Because if there’s even a shred of doubt left, then I could never live with myself if I let her ignore it, or gloss over it, thinking that’s the best she’s going to get.
Aurora deserves a man who loves and adores her.
But she also deserves to be one hundred per cent free to love in her own way in return.
I can’t look into her eyes for the rest of my life knowing I’ve stolen the purest form of love from her if she’s only ninety-nine per cent.
She needs to be completely sure. She needs to choose me, all by herself.
I pause the video. Her beautiful smile freezes on the screen, suspended in time.
Her and her father are staying in a chateau in the south of France.
Walking, swimming, cooking together. Dancing in the kitchen at night after bottles of wine from the vineyard the chateau sits on.
George has given me those little snippets when he’s messaged me, and I’ve clung to each one like a lifeline.
She’s getting what she needs. My girl’s happy again.
She has her father back, just like she dreamt of.
I’d be a greedy arsehole to ask for more.
She hasn’t messaged me. I don’t know whether she’s even tried. I asked George to delete my number from her phone. She needed to do this without me and our relationship hanging over her like a cloud.
I just didn’t realise how hard it would be to see her so clearly thriving without me when I’m barely functioning without her.
I’m rubbing at my temples with my head in my hands when there’s a knock at my office door.
‘Ready for the meeting?’ Dove asks, barging in, giving me no choice, not that I would have said no anyway. It’s our tradition. With one small tweak . . .
‘Sure am. I don’t need to say, “Make yourselves at home”.’
Despite the constant dull ache in my chest, I smile as my sister and two brothers spill into my office – our new location.
Dove flings herself on to one of the couches and Gabe deposits Benedict into one of the cat beds he somehow managed to sneak into my office.
And for some unfathomable reason, I haven’t drop-kicked it back out the door like I would have once.
The big ginger furball is actually a good listener when he chooses to hang around in my office, which he’s taken to doing.
Not that I’ll tell my therapist that; he might think his bi-weekly sessions are in jeopardy.
Or more likely, he’ll tell me I’m making progress again and give me one of his looks of pride like I’m a star student.
I chuckle to myself. I hate the guy because I need him.
But each time I walk out of his office I also feel lighter.
I rise from my desk as Angelo flicks on the coffee machine and starts fixing one for everyone.
‘Beautiful day,’ Dove comments, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows beside the seating area.
‘It is,’ I agree, strolling over to the window and sliding my hands into my pockets as I look out at the clear blue sky, and then across the city skyline.
The others continue getting things set up, understanding me enough that they don’t interfere.
I might look calm, standing less than a metre from my office windows, but they know better than anyone that my hands are inside my pockets to hide the white knuckles as I curl my fingers so tightly into my palm that I’ll leave nail marks.
But I’m standing. Not falling.
And each time I move a little closer, or push myself a little harder, the swirl of anxiety in my gut lessens, and my heart pounds just that tiny bit slower.
I’m making progress. One day at a time.
‘Let’s start with the Dellainy case. How’s that going?’ I ask, turning away from the view and taking a seat beside Dove.
‘Walk in the park,’ Angelo replies with a cocky grin.
I raise a brow. ‘A simple “signed”, or “still in progress” will do.’
He chuckles, lifting his palms up, either side of the armchair he’s sunk into. ‘Signed. And I got a referral from them for a friend of theirs who has a collection of private art they want to insure.’
‘Good. Keep us updated. How about Ketteridge?’ I direct at Dove.
The client has gone quiet since the party at their house months ago, but I expected that to be the case. The business has been going through some big restructures.
‘We’ve got the contracts ready. I’m meeting with Phillip on Wednesday to go over them. He sounded keen to sign when I spoke with him yesterday.’
‘Where are you meeting him?’ Gabe asks, looking up over the top of his laptop where he’s taking notes.
‘He’s coming here,’ Dove says.
‘Phillip Ketteridge is coming here?’
‘Yep.’
My brother’s gaze fixes on Dove’s for a moment before he clears his throat and looks back at his screen. ‘I have a meeting with the building’s security firm to go over some upgrades on Wednesday. Benedict and I will be out all day.’
‘Don’t they usually come here?’ Angelo pipes up.
Gabriel’s lips thin, but his fingers don’t slow from flying over the keys. ‘Not this time.’
Dove narrows her eyes in his direction, her lips twisted in thought for a moment, before the meeting continues.
We go over everything that’s coming up for the week, then Angelo and Gabe head out, taking Benedict with them.
Dove stays seated. ‘Have you heard from Dom?’
She doesn’t try to sugarcoat it, getting straight to the point.
I suck in a sharp breath.
‘Of course I haven’t! The bastard’s disappeared off the face of the earth. You think I’d keep it from the police if he’d contacted me?’
Dove winces. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just . . . such a bloody mess. Where do you think he would have gone?’
I purse my lips. ‘Dom might be a liar and a cheat, but this Ella woman had his baby. I still know him well enough to understand that’ll be eating him up, not knowing whether he has a son or daughter, or what their name is and if they’re doing okay. I think he’s gone after her.’
‘Yeah, well, actions have consequences,’ Dove mutters. ‘And he’ll have to face them when the police find him.’
‘Yeah, he will,’ I agree.
Dominic was dropped from the board immediately after they found out he tampered with internal records.
And he could be facing a prison sentence himself for his role in everything.
But he was already long gone by the time the police went to his house to question him.
Despite our history, I can’t bring myself to feel an ounce of sympathy for him.
‘How are you doing?’ I ask Dove carefully as she looks away, unable to meet my eyes.
‘Fine.’
‘Fine,’ I repeat, not believing a word. I know my sister. And the extra weight she’s been carrying around on her shoulders recently isn’t only from her best friend being absent.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she huffs.
‘Do you?’
‘Yes. And I’m fine. Seeing him again was a shock. But I’m good now.’
‘Still, the sooner Vance Falcon disappears back to Singapore, the better for everyone, hm?’
I study the pinch at the corners of her eyes as she shrugs. ‘I haven’t thought about it.’
My challenge to that statement is cut off by her phone ringing.
‘It’s Aurora,’ she says, glancing at me with a mix of guilt and sympathy in her eyes.
‘Answer it,’ I say as calmly as I can muster, despite the fact my pulse rate just trebled.
I did the right thing asking George to delete my number, but it still feels like my chest is torn wide open every time I hear her name.
But this time together is theirs. I have no reason to be a part of it.
Not when I’m a contributing factor to why they lost so much in the first place.
If I’d only dug deeper, not been so fast to accept that he was guilty, then I could have .
. . Bloody hell, I don’t know what I could have done. But I could have done something.
‘Hi,’ Dove answers. She smiles, nodding along as she listens.
I can’t hear what Aurora’s saying, even though I wish I could. Just to have that sliver of her. To hear her voice and know what she’s thinking at this exact moment.
‘Yeah, he’s here.’
My heart pounds as Dove looks at me, listening intently to whatever it is Aurora’s telling her.
Maybe she’s ready to talk to me. Sourness swirls over my tongue. Or perhaps she has something to tell me. What if she’s met someone new? What if she’s in love with them? What if she’s calling to tell Dove she’s marrying some French arsehole who’s never hurt her like I have?
‘I’ll tell him,’ Dove says. ‘Okay. Bye.’
I stare at her as she ends the call.
‘Aurora says thank you for the video of Freddie.’
‘Freddie?’
She nods.
I exhale, my body sagging. Of course that’s all she said. I’ve been sending videos Kate’s shared with me to George’s phone so he can show her.
‘Thanks.’ I nod at Dove. ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’ I stand and return to my desk, busying myself with sifting through a stack of papers on top of it.
‘Loving someone isn’t just the highs, you know?’ she says, eyeing me with concern.
‘Excuse me?’
Her eyes shine with a rare vulnerability she never usually lets anyone see.
‘It isn’t just the highs,’ she repeats. ‘It’s sitting beside that person when their parents die.
It’s holding their hand when they bring your children into the world.
It’s bathing you if you get sick, feeding you when you’re hurting too much to eat.
If Aurora comes back to you, then she’s choosing all of that.
She’s telling you that she’ll be there for you in grief, chaos, uncertainty. The beautiful and the ugly.’
She rises from the sofa and looks me dead in the eye.
‘You did the right thing, Rafe. I’m proud of you.
You gave her time to heal. And space to decide if you’re meant to be all of that for one another.
It’s a big decision. And her taking her time to make it isn’t a bad thing.
It means that if she comes back, then you can be sure it’ll all work out, no matter what else life throws at you. ’
My throat thickens and I nod.
She walks to the door, but before she can leave, I call out, ‘What if she decides I can’t be all those things to her?’
She looks at me sadly. ‘Then you have my deepest sympathies.’
She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.
I fall back into my desk chair, the air punched from my lungs. Aurora might never come back to me. And seeing the understanding in my sister’s eyes as she spoke told me something else.
Vance Falcon didn’t just break her heart once like we all thought he did.
He broke her.
And it’s only because I know exactly what that feels like now that I recognise it in Dove.
If I ever see the bastard again, I’ll not just want to deck him like Angelo did, I’ll want to kill him.
My phone chimes with an alert, and I wipe my clammy palms on my trousers. I only have that sound set up for one thing.
Aurora has posted a new video.
Despite knowing it’ll only hurt to watch it, I pull my phone out and press ‘play’.
Her smile hits me first. It isn’t as bright, almost as if she’s worried, or cautious about something. Or . . . nervous.
But maybe she just looks different because the sun isn’t streaming into the room like usual. In fact, it’s not even the same room she’s been filming in these past two months. An empty rail fills the screen behind her, flanked by a set of open shelving on either side. Both are empty.
Like me without her.
I lean forwards in my seat, squinting at the screen as she holds up a purse, showing off the little compartments in it.
A flash of fabric comes into the periphery of the shot as she repositions the camera.
My mouth goes dry.
She’s in my dressing room. She must have filmed this months ago, then only chosen today to upload it for some reason.
But her skin is bronzed, kissed in the same way the southern French sun has done to her in her newer videos. And her hair is longer, the same length as in her most recent videos.
I look closer, raking my eyes over her face, absorbing every detail.
I know her. I know every little piece of magic that makes her her. I’ve studied them all. Kissed each one. Loved them.
She puts the purse down and looks directly at the camera, her eyes glassy.
‘Sorry it’s a little bare in here. I have some unpacking to do.’
My heart skips a beat . . .
And I know.
She isn’t talking to her followers.
She’s saying those words for one person.
Me.
I jump out of my seat, sending it crashing to the floor. Blood rushes in my ears as my vision tunnels for the door. For my exit out of here.
My route to her.
The door crashes against the wall as I throw it open.
I sprint out of my office like my life depends on it.
I’m coming, Beauty. Bloody hell, I’m coming.