Secrets and Sins:Raphael(13)

       
           



       

Hell, she knew that; she remembered. She could recall every detail about  that night with obsessive clarity. When she didn't jerk awake from  nightmarish images that eluded her like tendrils of smoke as soon as she  woke, she tossed and turned from the hot, erotic memories of a night  filled with tangled limbs, sweat-slicked bodies, soft moans, and harsh  cries. The events of that early December morning may be lost to her, but  not the hours before it. Not the man who'd introduced her to a  devastating, shattering pleasure she still hadn't recovered from.

Nor could she forget or run away from the results of her one selfish, reckless act.

She hadn't been lying about the six-month period of abstinence and  rededication so she and Gavin could have a true wedding night. She  didn't lie, period.

After a lifetime of observing her father perjure himself to score the  next big client or loan, witnessing her mother delude herself into  believing she had the perfect marriage, and watching her brother deny  who he was to fit the rigid mold of an Addison, Greer had adopted a  personal code of telling the truth.

Raphael couldn't know that, though-he didn't know her. A sexual  one-night stand didn't allow the time for getting-to-know-you  conversation.

Even now she didn't have time for him to become acquainted with her  personality, quirks, and history. That time had come and gone when she'd  discovered she was pregnant. And that someone wanted to harm her and  her baby. Unconsciously, she curved a hand over the still-flat plane of  her belly. She still woke up in the middle of the night scared, but so  filled with wonder that another human slept inside her. Awe and love  welled up in her chest, pressing against her rib cage until she believed  she'd bust with the emotion that seemed uncontainable. It amazed her,  this sudden, overwhelming love for a being that looked like an alien  and, at seventeen weeks, was no bigger than an avocado, so her doctor  said.

The flip side of that devotion was fear. A paralyzing fear for her baby's safety.

She swallowed a sigh and struggled to maintain the mask of dignity and  self-control that had been drummed into her since birth. The camouflage  was habit-no matter how hurt, tired, or frightened, never show it.

And right now she was all three.

But, God, Raphael's aloof manner wasn't helping. Expect him to welcome  her with open arms? No. Yet he was so … distant. Sarcastic, mocking, even  cold at times. Part of her wanted to get up and leave. Being dependent  on another person for something as basic as her safety stung.

But the rational side demanded she remain seated. Raphael could be the abominable snowman, but she still needed his help.

"First thing we'll do is get those extra security measures set up at  your brother's. I have my doubts about the letters or damage continuing  once you're no longer there, but I'd rather err on the side of caution. I  can supervise that while-"

Her attention sharpened, focused on Raphael as he leaned forward and  reached for his desk phone. His words bounced against the inside of her  head, growing louder and faster which each rebound. Once you're no  longer there … once you're no longer there …  onceyour'enolongerthere …  What  the hell did he mean by that?

"Wait." She shoved to her feet, holding out a hand as he picked up the  receiver. His brow arched in question as he tucked the phone between his  ear and shoulder and punched out a number. "What are you talking about,  once I'm no longer there? No longer where?"

He held up a finger, silencing her. Yes, he did just shush me. Anger  flooded up her chest and poured into her face. He just shushed her!

"Hey, where are you at?" He paused as the person on the other end of the  line obviously replied. "Okay, that can wait. Meet me at-" He rapped  out her brother's address, which momentarily made her forget her  irritation. How did he know where Ethan lived? "I'll be there in about  thirty minutes. Here's what I need for you to bring." He recited a list  of technical-sounding names that went right over her head. "You got  that? Okay. Thirty."

"How did you know Ethan's home address?" she demanded, although that  wasn't the most pressing issue. Just the most immediate that came to her  mind.

"I've known for a while," he said, brushing it off with a shrug. "You're  no longer going to be staying with your brother. As a matter of fact,  while I'm getting the security cameras installed, you can pack up your  things, and we can leave for my house straight from there."

A vacuum opened up inside her head and roared long and loud. Shock  robbed her legs of substance, and she wavered before groping behind her  for the abandoned chair. Slowly, she sank down, trying-and failing-to  wrap her mind around the utterly ridiculous explanation he'd just  offered her. He had to be joking. Had to be … right? She glanced up and  searched his expression. His blue gaze was steady, resolute. His lips  straight with no hint of a curl that would've suggested this was some  kind of prank on the pregnant lady.                       
       
           



       

"You can't be serious," she finally rasped.

He crossed his arms, cocked his head to the side. "Three things I don't  joke about. The Sox's chances of going the distance. My Die Hard movie  collection. And safety."

How the hell was she supposed to respond to that and not sound as crazy as him?

"I'm not going home with you," she gritted out between clenched teeth. "That's ridiculous."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because … " She twirled her hand as if conjuring a reason to explain why  his suggestion of her moving in with him defied the boundaries of logic.  She wanted to scream, "Because we had hot, sweaty sex for hours on your  backseat," but so didn't want to go there. So instead she settled for,  "Because I live with my brother," she sputtered. Damn, it sounded lame  even to her own ears. And from his arched eyebrow, he agreed.

"You live with your brother in a house where a wack job has been sending  menacing letters to you for months, did a slash 'n' smash on your car,  and left you a gift that screams I'm off my meds. Did I miss something?  Because if I didn't, I'd say your brother's house is what we call  ‘compromised.' You're no longer safe there."

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, the horror from his too-accurate  description, the stinging sarcasm, or all three that had her palm  itching to smack him one. Raphael Marcel had a talent for getting under  her skin and inciting her to act rashly. Whether it was having sex in  the backseat of a car on a public street or punching him, she'd never  had such a visceral reaction to anyone else in her life. Not even the  man she'd been prepared to pledge the rest of her life to.

"But if you're going to add the extra security there … " she said, desperation swirling in her stomach.

"For your brother." He crossed his arms. "Look, Greer, this person has  upped the game. We're past intimidating letters and onto criminal  mischief, vandalism, and threats. Do you really think he'll be satisfied  and go back to mailing letters again?" He shook his head. "Not going to  happen. The next thing he does will only escalate in aggression or  cruelty. No cameras are going to protect you from that. But I can-it's  my business. And when I'm not there, my house is like a damn fort. No  one's getting in or out. Face it. It's the best solution."

Despair varnished in a nice coat of shame covered her, swamped her. "I  can't," she whispered. How could she explain? How could she make him  understand? All her life she'd been dependent on something-kept by  someone. First her parents, then Gavin. Even after she'd earned her  business degree and moved into her own apartment, she'd still worked at  her father's bank as a glorified receptionist, because he didn't trust  her with anything more complex than answering a phone or taking a  message. Her main job had been being Gavin Wells's fiancée. For her  father it had been the only smart move she'd made, the only thing she'd  done to give him even a moment of pride.

After Gavin's death, she'd been too immersed in grief and shock to  protest when Ethan had suggested she come stay with him and Jason after  her father had ordered her not to return to his home. When she'd finally  emerged from the mental cave she'd hibernated in, it'd been to find she  was once more dependent on another, sponging off another. Not adding or  contributing. Just taking. Like her mother.

Raphael wouldn't get it. Wouldn't understand the horror of waking up one  day and realizing you'd almost become what you resented most. A month  and a half ago, she'd set in place plans to reclaim her life, to be  self-sufficient and self-reliant. She'd decided to apply to art school,  had started working on the portfolio required for submission. She'd  begun paving the way for a new Greer-a Greer who followed her own  desires and passions instead of obediently kowtowing to others out of  fear of disappointment.