Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Good And The Bad
Chiara
Three weeks later
What about this one? It’s got good light and two bedrooms. *Insert link*
Big Bad Raf:
No. It’s on the ground floor.
That’s a good thing. Means I won’t have to lug all my photography gear down elevators or stairs.
Big Bad Raf:
No. It’s a bad thing because anyone can break in.
I’ll get Marco to install cameras.
Big Bad Raf:
No.
Let me remind you that you agreed to help me find somewhere to live, but so far you haven’t sent me any suggestions and have rejected every single one of mine.
Big Bad Raf:
It’s literally been less than a month and I’ve been away for almost half of it, which means you have virtually been living in a house of your own.
Big Bad Raf:
Besides, if we ever need to vouch for the legitimacy of our arrangement, we’d need proof of living together.
Wow. Are you sick? You just sent two messages in a row. Longer than two words.
But I digress. I think I might need to look into a new apartment-hunter helper.
Maybe Avery is the better man for the job. *Thinking face emoji*
Big Bad Raf:
No chance.
I should’ve known this fake-husband business would go to your head. *Insert rolling eyes emoji*
Well you’re going to be stuck with your fake wife for a bit longer now. I leave for Texas on Saturday for a promo shoot for a new television show. I’ll be gone for about a week or so.
Big Bad Raf:
I’ll miss you.
Awww, I knew you loved me, husband. *insert winky face*
Big Bad Raf:
As in, I will miss you because I had to extend my trip. I’ll be back Sunday now.
Uh-huh. I know what you said. It’s okay, I won’t hold it against you.
I’m going with Marco to his therapist appointment today. I have an appointment booked in after his.
Big Bad Raf:
That’s a big step. I’m really proud of you.
Thanks, fake-husband-with-no-benefits.
Big Bad Raf:
You’re a brat. Most wouldn’t complain about living rent-free in New York. I’m at my next meeting. Don’t forget your boxing session with Evie this afternoon. Stay safe on your work trip.
Yes, Daddy. Safe travels home.
And Raf…
Big Bad Raf:
Yes?
Miss you too. *insert kiss face*
I click out of our text thread with a smile on my face and disappointment in my chest because I thought I would at least get to see him for a day or two before I had to leave for my trip.
I may have tried to hide it behind banter, but I really do miss him.
So much. The more time I spend with him, the more he reveals the true color of his heart is not black at all.
Raf the dirty-talking, commanding lover is unforgettable, but Raf the caretaker who sat in the bath fully clothed, held me and gave me space to talk, then married me and fed me a dinner of my favorite Italian dishes before breaking all his rules by fucking me and letting me sleep in his arms—he’s unparalleled dream-man material.
Every time I think about how tender he was with me, it makes me teary.
Even with the distance and work schedules that mean we’re ships in the night, the lingering heaviness of sexual tension permanently swirls around us.
Maybe keeping things platonic as fake husband and wife is for the best if it means that I can have him as a friend I can count on, but my heart and body wholly revolt every time my logical brain presents the argument.
It’s also the logical part of me that reminds me I don’t necessarily need to have his permission to pack my things and go.
I have my own money and am old enough to sign a lease, but in a fucked up way, a part of me is holding out that we might cross those lines again and he’ll say the words I want to hear—Fuck being my fake wife roommate; I want you to be my forever-mate.
Oh man! Thank God I’m giving therapy another go because the longer I remain here, the more delusional my thoughts become about what Raf and I might be.
The doorbell chimes and it’s a little earlier than Avery mentioned we needed to leave, so I check the camera and see it’s Raf’s cleaner.
I told him not to worry about booking her this week, that I could tidy up, but I know he likes his space pristine.
I’m also not complaining. As much as I like blaring the music and losing myself in a therapeutic deep clean, there’s something so nice about coming home to a sparkling clean house—especially the shower—that you didn’t have to scrub yourself!
“Hi, Nina! How are you?” I say as I buzz her in.
“Hi, darling girl. Glad to see you’re still here. Where’s Mr. Serious these days?”
“He’s still traveling for work.”
“Ah, I see. You been sneaking in all the boys then?” she says, giving me a wink.
“Oh how I wish! But no, I’ve been working long hours too. Besides, Mr. Serious stipulated in the house rules, no sleepovers with boys.” I giggle.
“Ah darlin’, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. ’Sides, if he won’t snap you up for himself, he don’t get to make the rules.”
“My thoughts exactly, Nina,” I agree. “What’s that?” I ask, noticing she has a garment bag in one hand.
“Oh there was a courier here when I arrived. Looks like Mr. Raf’s dry-cleanin’.
And he gave me this too,” she says, producing a black envelope from her bag.
It’s got my name on it. Strange…no one except my cousin, the girls, and Raf’s family know I’m here.
Maybe it’s an invitation to one of Evie’s events.
“I can take that and put it in Raf’s wardrobe,” I say to her, taking any excuse to be in his space, to feel a little closer to him.
“Thanks darlin’,” she says, handing it over.
It’s only upon taking it that I see a clear bag fastened to the other side with an invite on a heavy card. It’s an invitation to a law dinner. It’s addressed to the firm, and I can see someone has scribbled Raf’s name on it and circled plus one.
Even with him gone for the last few weeks, I still get a whiff of his lingering cologne, masculine and smoky, when I walk into his fastidiously neat space.
I lay the suit bag on the bed, the same one that we were a tangle of limbs and sheets in all those weeks ago.
Want courses through me at the memory of what we’ve done in that bed and in his shower.
I touch my flaming cheeks to cool them. I wonder who he’s going to take to the dinner, and an idea forms.
I place the envelope addressed to me down on the bed and take my phone out of my jeans pocket to snap a close-up of the bag with the invite.
Let’s make a wager. *insert image*
Big Bad Raf:
You again? Is that my bed?
Yes. I thought you had a meeting.
Big Bad Raf:
I’m in the middle of it.
Why are you answering me then?
Big Bad Raf:
Why are you messaging me from my room knowing full well I’m in a meeting?
Ugh! You’re so annoying when you get all Law Daddy on me.
Big Bad Raf:
But also hot?
What have you done with Raf? What’s your ransom?
Big Bad Raf:
If photography doesn’t work out, you definitely shouldn’t consider comedy.
If you don’t help me find a new apartment before the event in two weeks’ time, then you have to take me as your date.
Big Bad Raf:
You would be bored out of your mind.
Oh, but you know I would make it interesting *insert winky-face emoji*
Big Bad Raf:
No doubt.
Do we have a deal?
Big Bad Raf:
I don’t make deals with the devil.
We both know that’s a lie.
Big Bad Raf:
Anyone ever told you that you make it hard to say no?
Once or twice. Maybe three times *Insert devil emoji*
Big Bad Raf:
Bye, Chiara. Go to therapy. And don’t forget your boxing session with Evie.
Yes, Daddy.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face now. Part of me hopes that he will fail the mission because the thought of being the woman on Raf’s arm in a room full of his peers gives me butterflies.