Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Plain white t-shirt. Dark jeans. A profile that belonged on a coin, or a warning sign. Rafael stood waiting outside of Monaghan satisfaction, approval, anchored deep in his gut. The world already saw her differently, written her permanently into his world.
“When is the ceremony?” Rafael asked.
Andrew gave the date.
Two days after the wedding. The date they’d agreed on, before Bea had started putting a pause on everything.
“April?” Finn scoffed. “There’s no way.”
Rafael didn’t answer. He rolled the glass between his fingers instead, watching the cognac climb and fall along the curve as he thought.
Marek watched him, incredulity breaking through. “She agreed to marry you by next month?”
Derek glanced up from the cards. “She pregnant?”
Rafael angled toward him, knee turning out just enough that Dean suddenly had less room than before. “Careful.”
The man lifted both hands immediately. “No disrespect.”
“There’s no pressure to decide today,” Andrew said smoothly. “We won’t be printing for several weeks. Also, as Ms. Cruz was part of the Graduate Enrichment Cohort, she’ll receive an additional certificate.” He paused. Cleared his throat. “Presented by King Global Capital.”
Rafael’s gaze sharpened. “King Global?”
Andrew nodded. “They’ve taken an interest in the program.”
The circle went quiet, every man calculating. Watching Rafael, as he was watching the implications line up.
For a moment, he let himself picture it. Bea on that stage. His wife. His name. Gage King forced to witness the final line drawn in public. Maybe it was petty and beneath him, but the pull was acute.
It would be after the wedding, simple enough to explain as automated. All it took was one instruction. One signature. The institution would comply. The room already agreed with him.
And more than that, he wanted to.
Rafael locked his knees against the temptation. “Leave it as it is.”
Andrew’s brows lifted, just slightly.
“That’s generous,” Derek said slowly, studying Rafael now.
“On King’s stage,” Finn added.
Marek exhaled smoke through his nose. “If she walks up there as Cruz after your wedding, people might talk.”
“I can call again before the deadline, in case you change your mind,” Andrew offered.
“Leave it as Cruz.” Rafael lifted his cognac and took a long sip. “There won’t be confusion.”