Rafael

Opening the door, it moves without a sound. The man behind the desk is on the phone with his attention on one of two computer monitors. He is speaking Spanish. It’s rapid-fire yet almost melodic, and the sound of it sends the hair on the back of my neck up. He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. Deep and smooth with a hint of smoke, it rumbles out of him. I wonder what it would be like to have him whisper in my ear. Shock hits me. Where the heck had that thought come from?

Desperately, I try to banish the thought by focusing on the man rather than the voice, but that only makes it worse. Because holy shit, he is gorgeous. His eyes meet mine and the ground shifts beneath my feet. My chest clenches tight as my stomach drops. Every cell awakens, vibrating with electricity in reaction, in expectation…of what, I don’t know.

He blinks, breaking the connection. I shiver from the loss even as I’m desperately trying to figure out what just happened, what is still happening as I fight to take in air to lungs I only just now realize are starving for it. With his attention back on the computer monitor, it gives me free rein to take all of him in.

A sigh escapes me…it’s all his fault. The man is stunning, gorgeous. If I saw a picture of him, I wouldn’t have believed it was real. I would have bet money he was airbrushed. No way could a man be as beautiful as he is in real life. His skin is a light caramel stretched tight over a stern brow deep with lines. A hawkish nose and cheekbones sharp enough to cut diamonds fit the strong jaw lined with a beard I resent for covering up his face. Yet the beard and mustache perfectly frame his mouth. It makes sense his mouth is as sexy as his voice, thick molded lips, with a bottom lip I long to suck deep on…okay, what the fuck is the matter with me? I’ve never sucked any man’s lip before, so why the hell do I want to do that to him?

He tilts his head as he speaks and silver catches the light. Thick, inky black hair glows silver at his temples. How fitting, because gray is far too boring for him. I wonder how old he is. Although the frown lines are deep they don’t detract from his appeal in the slightest. And why aren’t his laugh lines deep? Is he one of those eternally grumpy people?

I tighten my purse across the front of me as if in protection. I don’t dare take the seat in front of his desk until he tells me to. Pulling my eyes from him is harder than I want it to be. How freaking embarrassing, this is so not the time for my long-forgotten libido to come surging to life. Besides, a man who looks like him wouldn’t be interested in me. At the sound of the phone crashing into the base, my head goes up.

“Mrs. Whitney, please have a seat.” His accent is so faint it’s startling after the flood of Spanish he had spoken.

“Thank you and it’s Ms., Mr. Castillo.” It’s obvious he doesn’t like the correction. Crap, I don’t want to annoy him. Sitting, I force a weak smile. “I want to thank you for taking the time to meet with me today. I understand you’re busy. I’m here about Riley and Elliott Turner. I want to apologize about what they did. We will pay for the damage done. I’m pleading with you to drop the charges.”

His frown has my stomach flipping a dozen times.

In a rush, I continue. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you they are good boys and don’t deserve to pay for what they did. Obviously, if they were good they wouldn’t have broken into your worksite and vandalized and damaged it. They know perfectly well it was wrong and did it anyway. They’re bored and unchallenged young boys. I’m willing to admit they are hovering on the wrong path, but if they go to juvenile detention I’ve heard it will send them down that path and I won’t get them back.”

I work to take a deep breath as his frown deepens. Those hazel eyes are hard, unfeeling. His jaw tightens and I long to find out how it would feel beneath my fingertips. Oh god, knock it off and focus. Dropping my eyes to his chest doesn’t help. His chest is so wide, and despite the cut-to-fit silk suit his muscles are easily discernable, as with every breath he takes they ripple impressively. Normally, muscular men scare me. Yet an ache is building low within me at the idea of finding out what his muscles feel like beneath my hands. Stop it, damn it. Get it together.

Unease at his lack of response spurs me on. “This is my fault, I had to move them from Austin to Fort Worth when I lost my job. They were in advanced classes and kept busy there. Since we moved here, I haven’t been able to get them enrolled into a good school. They haven’t been challenged and are bored and looking for trouble. Over the summer I used to enroll them in math and science camps. This year I didn’t have the money. I’ll make sure they are punished. Please don’t press charges.”

Leaning back, he studies me intently. I’m hoping he doesn’t see the way my body is responding. Those eyes are as heavy as a touch. A touch my body likes—my breasts are swelling and my nipples tightening with need. I fight not to blush as wet heat builds at the apex of my thighs. This is so unfair because he appears completely unaffected.

“Ms. Whitney, your children are ill-behaved savages. How exactly are you going to pay for over three hundred thousand dollars in damages if you can’t afford to send them to a camp to keep them busy?”

“Thr—three hundred thousand dollars?” The words stutter out of me.

Dark eyebrows go up. “Did you really not know?” He’s mocking, that deep rich voice taunting me. “They damaged one of the CATs on site and trashed the construction trailer. It was not simply vandalization—they destroyed with intent and purpose. I think juvenile detention is the best place for them, lest they get bored again and go after something else, or someone else.”

Still reeling from the amount of money he’s talking about and the insults he’s throwing at me, I fight to keep from exploding in anger. “They are not my children. Elliott and Riley are my little brothers. I’m doing the best I can on my own. I had no idea the damage was that high. I am very sincere in taking blame for what they have done. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

The louder I get the more still he becomes. His words are scarily quiet and cold, without inflection, almost robotic. “You are here to keep them from facing the consequences of their actions and looking bad as they are in your care. Maybe they should be with their mother and father instead. They would have a better ability than one as young as yourself to handle them. You have fallen short of what they need.”

The words are a slap across my face. I close my eyes at the pain those words cause. He’s right. He is saying what I have been thinking for months. I’m failing them; my best isn’t good enough. The platitudes of love being all that mattered were meaningless when it came to raising two young teens too smart for their own good. They were going to end up in jail or worse, just like their father.

I want to cry and scream the room down, this isn’t fair. Only it wouldn’t matter—life isn’t fair, I learned that lesson long ago. “Our mother is dead. Their father is in prison for killing her. The twins were there when it happened. Only six years old, they knew enough to call the police because he’d beaten her badly a few times before. The two of them got to sit there with her while she bled to death.”

The words are ripped from my throat. I fight to blink back tears. I don’t want him to see me cry. He’ll see it as an attempt to manipulate or even worse, a weakness. This was a mistake, a waste of time. I need to get out of here, before I completely lose it. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Turning away, blind from tears, I run right into a wall of muscle covered in soft silk.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry, so sorry.” His voice is low, close to my ear. I shiver as his hot breath slides down my neck.

His hard body against mine sends electricity coursing through every cell inside me. The current is so strong it’s almost painful. And yet everything inside me is begging for more, for this to never end. This isn’t me. I don’t ask for help. I don’t cry. All I want to do is cling to him and let him shelter me from the world outside. The thought shocks me so much I struggle in his arms, afraid to give in to the weakness.

Rafael’s arms tighten around me and god forgive me, I melt into him. In his arms I’m safe. Everything will be okay—I believe him. Beneath my ear, I can hear his heart pounding steady and sure. His large hand slides up and down my back soothingly as he whispers something in Spanish. I attempt to apologize, feeling like I should say something. A sob comes out instead. Embarrassed, I bury my face in his chest.

“It’s all right, cry. It’s okay, it all needs to come out.”