CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
I decide my best option is to bolt. I run with no sense of direction towards the house, feeling my racing heart swelling in my throat.
Rafaelle’s an asshole though. Headstarts should be at least a minute.
I get only about five seconds before I hear the sound of his heavy footsteps following behind me.
Panic and exhilaration collide violently inside of me.
I shove past corners and paintings and dimly lit corridors.
I don’t stand a chance and I have no idea where I’m even headed.
I burst through the first door I see once I’m in the house, opening it and then shutting it behind me right before he catches up.
The door has a fancy automatic lock which I hurriedly press and then I exhale a sharp breath of relief.
I cannot believe I managed that. He pounds on the door in the next breath and it’s startling enough that I stumble back, breathing hard.
“Open the door, Liliana.”
I smile, sticking out my tongue childishly although he can’t see me. I turn around to take in the room and sight of it steals the breath from my lungs.
Weapons.
Hundreds of them.
Knives line the walls in gleaming displays beneath low amber lighting, each one more beautiful and horrifying than the last. Some are sleek and silver, others dark and vicious looking with jagged edges that belong in nightmares.
Guns rest inside glass cases polished to perfection, arranged with obsessive precision beside rifles and blades from what looks like every corner of the world.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
I don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed. Probably both. Of course Rafaelle owns a room like this. It’s pretty typical though. A man like him would collect weapons like art.
A soft click sounds behind me and my blood freezes. I whirl around just as the door swings open. Rafaelle stands there, holding a key between tattooed fingers, chest rising slowly beneath the black shirt stretched across his body. His expression sends something uneasy curling down my spine.
He looks… alive. Like chasing me through the house woke something primal inside him. Dark eyes lock onto mine before sweeping lazily across the room.
“Interesting choice for a hideout,” he murmurs. “But there’s no hiding from me.”
My gaze catches onto one of the knives displayed nearby and before I can think better of it, I snatch it from the wall and point it towards him with shaking fingers. Rafaelle actually smiles. Its predatory, scary.
“Are you going to stab me, little siren?”
“Don’t test me.”
He steps farther into the room and shuts the door behind him with deliberate calm.
“I’m serious, Rafaelle.”
“I know,” his eyes flick toward the knife before returning to my face, “Go ahead.”
I blink. “What?”
“Throw it.” his mouth curves slightly. “You’re going to miss, but I’d still love to see you try.”
The smug bastard. Heat floods my face immediately. He looks so certain of himself standing there all broad, tattooed and entirely unbothered while my pulse rages a riot beneath my skin.
I hate him.
I hate how beautiful he is. I hate the way he looks at me. I hate that a part of me is thrilled by it.
“Don’t smile at me like that,” I snap.
His grin widens. So I throw the knife.
The blade slices through the air with terrifying speed and Rafaelle moves at the last possible second, body shifting smoothly aside before the knife embeds itself into the wooden door behind him with a violent thunk.
Silence crashes over the room. My eyes widen slightly.
Holy shit.
Rafaelle stares at the knife for one long beat before looking back at me. And suddenly he’s moving.
A startled breath leaves me as he crosses the room fast enough to make my heart leap into my throat before slamming me against the wall.
A whoosh of air escapes me, although he didn’t do it hard enough to bruise.
Heat engulfs me instantly as he cages me in with one arm beside my head while the other grips my waist to keep me pinned in place.
“This is getting old,” I mumble, referring to his habit of pushing me against walls.
His breathing is rougher now, dark eyes blazing with something wild and deeply inappropriate considering the situation. He’s so much bigger than me. He could break me with barely any effort. It should terrify me, but excitement licks at my spine with the realization.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I breathe, needing to say something, anything.
“You just threw a knife at me.”
“You told me to!” I exclaim defensively.
“If this is your version of foreplay, little siren. I can assure you it’s working,” his gaze drags slowly over my face, dropping lower, “All of this is doing nothing but turning me on.”
My eyes widen and I feel the evidence of his statement against my stomach, hard and prodding. A violent shiver racks through me. I expel a shaky breath when he reaches upward, his thumb gliding across my cheekbones. Desire, hot and heavy travels through me.
I’m still so fucking attracted to him. It’s embarrassing.
“You’re deluded, Rafaelle,” I whisper, the sound vibrating in the space between us.
The visceral need to close the distance between us steals the air from me but I stay put, trying to ignore his intoxicating heat. Trying to pretend it doesn’t affect me.
“What am I going to do with you, Liliana?” he asks, his forehead nearly brushes mine.
“Let me go,” I say softly.
“That’s the one thing I can’t do. At least not yet.”
He steps backwards with that admission, giving me some breathing room. I inhale some air that isn’t tainted with him as I reassess my position. A part of me can admit that there’s insane chemistry and attraction between me and Rafaelle. I felt it 18 months ago when we first met and I feel it now.
But the truth is, we’re doomed no matter what path we take.
Even if I could find it in me to look past the monstrous facade, he’ll never forgive me if he finds out my secret.
He may not want to hurt me now but I have a feeling that will change once he finds out the truth.
Then there’s the rivalry he mentioned between him and my supposed father.
From what I can glean, once this Ignacio Navarro finds out about me, he’ll want to do whatever it takes to keep me from the Vitales.
He’ll do anything to keep me from Rafaelle.
Ultimately, I’ll have to choose. I wish I didn’t have to at all though. Because I know I’ll choose the better option for my daughter. And I really don’t think Rafaelle would be that option.