Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Exams made the perfect hiding place.
Numbers and notes were predictable. They stayed in their lanes. She couldn’t control Rafael. Or this thing between them. Or, apparently, her own thoughts.
Uninvited, gone as suddenly as they came. But the second the thought of Gage hit, she knew how Rafael would see it.
The look on his face wasn’t one she’d ever seen before. The knowledge hit her deeply: she’d hurt him. She saw it in the split-second before he locked it away.
If a memory could shove in mid-kiss, what else could it do? When else?
She flipped through her notes, forcing her mind back to the page. It worked, mostly. Except when it finally didn’t. Two days later, she got a message that simply said:
RAFAEL: You’re avoiding me.
Her heart wouldn’t settle after reading it, because he was right. She was dodging him, and the part of herself that could ruin everything.
A shadow fell over her desk, and the hair follicles on her arms raised.
Don’t be him. Don’t be him. Don’t be—
“How long are you planning to keep this up, little Bea?”
A shiver of recognition went through her before she even looked up. Rafael was here. Grey tee, dark jeans, hands pocketed. He took in the books, the coffee, then her.
Bea modulated her voice for calm. “I’m studying. They’re my last exams at St. Ives.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Your grades aren’t the problem. Stop pretending they are.”
He dragged a chair around and straddled it, forearms braced along the backrest—the posture of a man at ease, or who wanted you to think he was. He wasn’t leaving until she gave him something.
“You should go,” she said quietly, chest tight even as she said it. She didn’t mean it. She didn’t want him to. But she wasn’t ready.
He didn’t move. “You should look at me when you say that.”
She considered crawling under the table. Just for a minute.
Rafael leaned in slightly, voice quieter now. “I’m giving you space, but I’m not letting you run.”
Bea’s pulse kicked. Her fingers curled around the edge of her book. She met his gaze. “I know. I know we need to talk.”
He tapped his fingers against the table. Once. Twice. Then stilled. “When?”
“After my exam.”
He nodded once. Stood, muscles bunching and flexing with the simple movement, exuding absolute certainty. “Good. Be ready.”
And then he walked away, leaving her pulse pounding in her throat.
RAFAEL
The hearth burned low, amber licking at old brick, when Rafael stepped inside Midnight you added a new stitch every time you had a lunch date with Selene.”
“I did not.”
Claire laughed at Bea’s face, warm and merciless. “Bey, you knew. Maybe not at first, but eventually.”
That was an outrageous allegation. Just because Selene asked about her parents, her childhood, and her future plans.
Okay, maybe the exchange of secret family recipes was questionable. But that didn’t necessarily mean she had volunteered as tribute into the Griffin dynasty.
“Your time’s running out. Show me what you’re wearing.”
Bea spun her camera toward the explosion of clothes on her bed. Dresses, skirts, blouses—every possible version of I swear I’m wholesome and also not secretly thinking about sex with your son.
Claire whistled. “Wow. Wardrobe vomit.”
“Focus,” Bea begged, holding up a pale blue dress. “Too sweet?”
“You can do better. This is an important day, Bey.”
She dropped her face into her hands. An idea came to mind, and she perked up. “Maybe I could go to the graduation part, then suddenly fall terminally ill and skip dinner.”
“You really think Rafael is going to let you wriggle out of parading you in front of his entire bloodline? Please. He’ll carry you in himself.”
“You’re not helping.” Bea pointed, tapping on her face on the screen.
“The yellow skirt and white halter,” Claire said, pinky up, munching on a chip. “Pair it with the gold heels. Fresh, bright, sweet. Like the girl he wants to marry.”
“Claire!”
Claire only grinned wider. “Did I stutter?”