Chapter 2 #2
Bea froze mid-celebration, arms dropping back to her sides as she cleared her throat. “Of course it matters.”
Rafael was rich, and he reminded her often that his money was hers, but that didn’t make this feel any smaller. This was hers. A rung she’d climbed herself.
Was it dumb she wanted to call home and tell Umma and Papa?
“You’re an asset here,” Maris said, unusually generous with her praise. Normally, she’d have vanished after that statement—heels clicking, message delivered. But this time, she leaned one hip against the edge of Bea’s desk. “Can I see it again?”
“You’re asking?”
“Even tigers pause for diamonds.”
Bea snorted and held out her hand.
Maris tilted her hand left and right. The blue and whites sparkled in the cold LED lighting. “However Griffin got his hands on this, one thing’s obvious.”
“What’s that?”
“That man is crazy about you.”
Bea noticed her colleagues inching back into range, notebooks in hand, pretending very badly to be on their way somewhere else.
“Buying a ring is shopping,” Maris continued pointedly. “Hunting down a stone like that and deciding it only ever belongs to one woman?” Her eyes cut to Bea’s. “That’s him staking his reputation.”
The mats were warm beneath her bare feet, her gi clung at the collar, damp and heavy, wrists buzzing from bad grips and worse decisions. Across from her, Melody circled, light on her toes. They were evenly matched on most days.
Tonight, the balance wasn’t there. Her timing lagged, her grip slipped. She recovered, then found herself pinned, cheek pressed to the mat.
Tap.
Melody let go immediately. Bea rolled onto her back and stared up at the lights. Her chest rose and fell hard. She counted three breaths. Four. Pushed up before the burn faded.
“Again.”
They reset. She didn’t wait for the nod this time. Bea shot in fast, overcommitted, tried to muscle through a sweep she normally set up properly. Melody caught her.
Tap.
Bea exhaled through her teeth, sharp and annoyed. She slapped the mat with her palm, and rolled back onto her knees.
“Again.”
Melody hesitated. Bea didn’t. She closed in too aggressively, everything brute instead of clean. It took less than ten seconds this time.
Tap.
Greg, their instructor, crouched in front of her. “You alright?”
“Fine, Prof.”
Just a tad pissed that upstairs had congratulated her, then wondered if it was ‘cleaner to wait until April, when Griffin’s name will be on her contracts.’ She’d earned that promotion; she didn’t need Rafael’s signature on it.
Greg brushed a single knuckle along his nose. “You’re fighting the floor instead of your partner.”
She opened her mouth.
“Go shower. You’re done for the night.”
Bea didn’t argue; it would have made it more humiliating. She grabbed her towel and headed for the showers. By the time she emerged, hair damp and pulled into a knot, a new class had started on the mats.
Manny, the gym manager, was locking up the office, keys jangling. “Saw you left the floor early.” He tossed a grin her way. “You’re either improving or you’re making the same mistakes faster. It was hard to tell from the desk.”
“Encouraging,” Bea muttered.
“That’s my brand.” His expression shifted when she didn’t bite back. “You okay, Scholarship?”
“I’m fine.” The lie was automatic now. “See you next week, Manny.”
She pushed through the glass doors into the warm Northgate night.
Rafael stood just outside. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
For a second, neither of them moved. The street hummed around them, ordinary and indifferent.
He took a step toward her. Bea shifted back, just a fraction. It stopped him cold. The space between them held, fragile and intentional. “You’re mad.”
“Of course I’m mad.”
“About something specific?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I’d rather not talk about it yet.”
Rafael’s jaw flexed, the impulse to close the distance written all over him. For a beat, she thought he would anyway. He considered her for long, tense moments. Then he exhaled. “Okay. Not tonight.”
Her relief was sharp.
They moved, close but not touching. When he drifted closer, she adjusted her pace enough to keep the space. He didn’t comment.
“I’m flying out tomorrow for Thailand,” he told her. “Anurak called in a favor.”
Rafael’s Thailand partner. The deal he’d secured by winning a Muay Thai match, while she’d watched with her heart in her throat.
“When will you be back?”
“Tuesday.”
Her heart sank. Four days without him. Physical distance, layered on top of the emotional one. But she needed the space, because thinking clearly with Rafael close by had never been her strong suit. “Alright.”
He stopped walking. “That’s it?”
She glanced at him. “What do you want me to say?”
“The thing you’ll regret not saying when I’m gone.”
Bea lifted her hand to fix her hair, stalling for time. His focus followed the movement, then locked.
On her empty finger.
“Where’s your ring?”
“At home.” Her lips felt dry. She licked them.
His jaw worked. “Did you wear it today?”
“Yes. I took it off before BJJ.”
Rafael seemed to resume breathing, but it wasn’t quite even.
They walked again. The silence lasted until they reached her building.
“I’m tired,” she said when they stopped in front of the automatic doors.
“Bea—”
“I need time to think. Space.”
A vein stood out at his temple. He squinted slightly, like he was trying to figure out how to deal with her. She waited, body rigid. Then: “I’ll message you when I land.”