I walk into my office—our office, now that I’m sharing it with Rafael—and take a deep breath. It’s Monday, and we’ve formed an uneasy truce since our fight in the kitchen. That truce came after a silent dinner and another round of angry sex. We also watched a movie in bed, and by the time we fell asleep, we were cuddling. It’s as if we’re reenacting our last weeks together, with rounds of fights, make-up sex, and glimpses of tenderness. 

All of our previous moments from before play in a loop in my brain. He doesn't want to talk about the past. It’s ripping my heart to shreds.

Rafa looks up from a spreadsheet. One of his financial analysts from Miami is here, seated across the desk.

“Hola, mi amor…” Rafa says, then abruptly stops. I shoot him a sharp stare, then look over at the analyst, a guy named David. He clears his throat and stands up, glancing uneasily at Rafa.

“Well. I’m headed for lunch. Rafa, don’t forget that we have the conference call with the Venezuelans later today. And, Justine, thank you for having me this week. The inn you suggested was perfect. I’d like to bring my girlfriend back here. I think she’d enjoy it.”

Smiling, I stand behind the desk, near Rafael. “I’m glad, David. I’d love to meet her. Oh, and before you go, I wanted to tell you both I found the information on the building’s property appraisal like you asked.”

I set the blue folder next to Rafa’s arm and slightly lean over to open it. My long hair spills over my shoulder and brushes his forearm.

He straightens his back and jerks his arm away. He’s back to being cold. I pretend not to notice.

“Rafael, we have the meeting to make our announcement. Are you ready?”

He nods and rises, clicking a pen twice. We head into the conference room, and I feel a pang of anxiety shoot through me. It’s never been easy for me to talk to the staff. It had been my dad’s job, and I feel like an impostor whenever I have to make an announcement. It’s even more nerve-wracking today because Rafael takes a seat in the front row.

I stand behind a worn lectern that’s probably twice as old as me. “I have a couple of big announcements today. First, I would like to start off by saying that, like almost all of the other newspapers in the United States, the Times has gone through difficult days with ad revenue and subscriptions. Craigslist took much of our classified revenue. The recession nearly devastated us. But unlike other newspapers that have laid people off, we—I—are seeking a slightly different path as we move forward. A path that I believe will put us on firm financial ground. That’s why I’m pleased to announce that Rafael Menendez de Aviles now owns a seventy percent stake in the St. Augustine Times.”

I never expected to utter those words in my lifetime.

Murmurs ripple through the conference room, where about twenty-five editors, writers, and photographers are assembled. I swallow, hoping this first meeting with the editorial staff to announce Rafa’s investment will go smoothly. We have other meetings to attend with various departments: advertising, circulation, marketing and distribution. As a former reporter, I know how skeptical and cynical the journalists are and assume this will be the toughest crowd.

“I’d be lying to you if I said this deal wasn’t bittersweet. My family has owned the Times for one hundred and forty years, and today is the first time an outsider has owned a stake in the paper. But although the investor isn’t family, he and I are very close.”

Close enough that he’s left me speechless after devouring me for the last two nights.

I’m not the kind of woman to blush, but I can feel my cheeks flash with heat as I extended a hand in Rafa’s direction. “Rafael Menendez de Aviles is a college friend. He’s a financier from Miami who has made his mark in South Florida real estate and other business holdings. He owns Florida Capital Group, a private equity investment firm, and he’s graciously offered to help the paper in its time of need and will be giving us—me—his business expertise over the coming months to help us become a profitable, stable business. He now owns a majority share in the Times.”

His expertise includes his body. His beautiful, sexy, talented body.

“So if you see Rafael around the building, don’t hesitate to chat him up. He’s Cuban-American, a Miami Hurricanes fan, and has been reading the paper closely every day. I’m sure he’ll have some thoughts on our operation. We’ll be putting an announcement in tomorrow’s paper about the deal. I hope you are all as happy as I am about this.”

I smile at Rafael, who stands up and nods at the staff.

“May I say something?” he murmurs to me, and I sweep a hand toward the lectern.

“It’s all yours.” I take his place in the front row, sinking into his warm seat and scrutinizing him anew, as if we hadn’t spent all weekend inhaling each other.

He’s in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit and hasn’t shaved that morning because, when we woke up, I mentioned that he looked dangerous and sexy with stubble. Laughing, Rafa had flipped me over, told me he’d keep the stubble for a couple of days, and proceeded to spank me and fuck me until I clutched at the sheets and cried out from a soul-shattering orgasm.

I squirm in my seat as he speaks, my flesh still tender. I look around. The reporters seem perkier than usual, and they study Rafa and his dazzling smile.

“The first time I walked into this newspaper was on Christmas Eve, fifteen years ago. Justine brought me to the newsroom’s annual holiday party. The staff was a lot bigger back in those days, of course, but then, as now, I sensed that this was a place where people worked hard. Where people fought for the truth. I’ll be honest with you: I don’t know much about journalism. Only what I know through my close friendship with your publisher. I don’t know if many of you know this, but Justine’s passion for your industry goes back to when she was in school. She fought hard to achieve what she has, sometimes at great cost to her personal life.”

My mouth opens, and I hold my breath. Please don’t let him say any more about me. About us. Please. I don’t want to risk revealing any emotion or affection for him here.

“I come from Cuba, a place where there is no free press. There, the literacy rate is nearly one-hundred percent, but there’s nothing for people to read because the government keeps a tight control on all printed material. My mother was a political dissident, and she put me on a boat. I sailed to Florida with my aunt and uncle and six others. I was just a boy, not even old enough for school. We were all searching for a better life. I found it, all because of this country and its love of freedom, and of course because US policy allowed Cubans a path to citizenship back then. Upholding the rights of free speech is a passion that’s close to my heart, and I’m proud to invest in such a historic paper.”

Rafa pauses and I exhale. His words are not only making me admire him, but they’re a journalist’s wet dream. He’s so fucking sexy when he talks like this. I grin wildly as he continues to speak.

“There’s a reason why the First Amendment is first in the Constitution. America values free speech and free thought, and should always value that above everything else. Democracy needs a free press.”

My mouth hangs open, and I know I must look stupid. But I’m genuinely shocked at how passionate, how inspiring, he sounds. I’m trembling as I listen and watch him gesture confidently. From the tone of his voice to the way he’s seized command of the room, it’s clear that Rafael has achieved a level of success that even I hadn’t comprehended until this moment.

He is captivating.

“I do have some bad news, though. Things will probably change around here. Your industry is in flux, and I’m sorry for that. But I will try to help you as much as I can, so you can continue to do good work. Award-winning work. Work that we’ll all be proud of. I look forward to seeing what we can do together.”

Everyone applauds. As he grins rakishly at the assembled reporters and editors, I can tell that every woman with a pulse in the room is smitten. Probably a few of the men, too. Nothing turns journalists on more than talking about free speech. Although a few holdouts, including Ethan the managing editor, smirk. Many journalists believe that corporate takeovers of papers usually don’t end well—because they rarely do.

Caroline is there, too, and she rises from her chair and walks to Rafael. Then she kisses him on the cheek and the room erupts in whoops.

“Thank you for helping us. You are still such a handsome young man. Are you single?” she asks, pinching his cheek. He takes her hand and kisses her fingers in a gentlemanly way. Everyone roars with laughter; Caroline’s of the age where she can do anything and say anything. Even I’m giggling now and shaking my head.

“Why? Are you?” Rafael flirts back.

Rafa’s kindness to Caroline makes me swoon. I stand and move to Rafael’s side.

“Thank you, everyone. I’m sure Rafael would love to chat later. I have some more good news. Today I heard from the Florida Press Association. The Times won six awards this year, including a public service award for our series on the city’s law enforcement corruption scandal.”

The mood in the room has transformed almost to something akin to happiness, a feeling I haven’t detected in months at the paper. I list the awards and fight back a laugh when I catch Rafa’s eye. He’s smiling that amused, sexy smile.

A wave of desire washes over me, but then I suddenly recall our fight and how the condom had broken. It’s a detail I’m trying to forget. Surely a woman in her mid-thirties wouldn’t get pregnant just like that, would she?

My attention snaps back to the room, and I clear my throat. “Any other questions?”

One reporter wants to know if there will be layoffs.

“Not at this time,” I reply. Really, I don’t know. It will all depend on Rafael.

Another reporter wants to know about a rumor that the paper will go all-digital and stop printing a daily product.

“Not if I can help it.” I glance to Rafael, and his smile has vanished. I chew on the inside of my cheek.

A reporter raises her hand. “Now that we have all this money, can we get the coffee service back?”

Rafa shoots me a confused smile and fiddles with his Rolex.

“My dad stopped the coffee service because he couldn’t afford it,” I murmur.

Rafa holds up a hand.

“Folks, I’m going to buy you some state-of-the-art machines and set up gourmet coffee delivery. Think of it as my gift to you for the hard work you did to win those awards.”

Huge applause. I grin. Coffee is the way to journalists’ hearts. And a happy staff is the way to my heart.

“Well. On that positive note, Mr. Menendez and I have an appointment with circulation soon. You can continue your news meeting.”

We walk out of the room and into the elevator. Smiling, I push the button for the fourth floor. I want to have a private word with Mr. Menendez.

He leans against the wall, appraising me with those burning eyes.

“You were great with your staff. I’m surprised how confident you are.”

I frown. “Why are you surprised?”

He shrugs. “You used to be so timid when we met. You’ve changed a lot. I like it. I guess I didn’t give you enough credit when I first arrived. You’re a good leader.”

This makes me laugh. “It’s always like men to underestimate women in positions of power.”

He smiles, a sweet grin. “Justi, isn’t circulation on the first floor? And when’s the next meeting?”

“We’ve got a half-hour. I need to show you something important about the paper up here. Come.” I sweep out of the elevator and down an empty hallway, my black flats padding on the chipped linoleum floor.

“This area used to be where paste-up physically put the paper together, before digital.” I take a ring of keys out of my purse and unlock a door leading into a musty, warm room.

“And now this is…storage?” Rafael scans the room, which is filled with dusty furniture and other assorted junk from over the years.

I jab at the locking button on the doorknob.

“This is where I thank you for being so wonderful to my staff.” I deposit my purse on a table and press Rafa against a desk, running a finger down his black-and-blue-striped tie. I kiss him fiercely. My mouth finds his throat, and I mash my nose against his skin, wanting to savor his scent forever. I kiss and bite him while rubbing my hand over his growing erection.

He chuckles low as he trails his hands down my back, cupping my ass.

“I like this reward incentive program you’ve instituted, Ms. Lavoie.”

I keep my eyes locked on his as I slowly unbuckle and unzip his pants. Sliding down his body, I can already feel him breathing laboriously. Once I’m on my knees, I pull his pants and black boxer briefs down to reveal his erection. He hums as I slowly stroke him.

I open my mouth, and he wraps my ponytail around his big hand while I trace his tip with my tongue.

“Coño, I love seeing your mouth on my cock like that.” His eyes glitter in the sunlight filtering through windows that haven’t been cleaned in years.

I lick and tease until he pulls the elastic out and fists my hair with both hands, hard. “Justine, stop teasing and take me all the way in. Now, please…”

I continue to run my tongue over his hard ridges and the veins of his cock, gazing up at him as he shudders. I love this feeling, this wild, powerful knowledge of being able to control him. There was a time, long ago when we first met, when I didn’t know what to do with him in my mouth. Through lots of exploration, I discovered how to drive him insane and have never forgotten.

Today, I’m using it to my advantage. And my satisfaction. Stroking him slowly, I grin and look up at him. “Do you want me to continue?” I lick and suck the tip, hard.

After a low, feral laugh, Rafa lets out a string of sentences in Spanish, ending with a few in English: “Please? Make me come, please. Take all of me inside your mouth. Now. I’m begging you. Te lo ruego.”

I move my hand up and down his shaft. One of his hands grips the side of the desk, while the other is on the back of my head, gently pressing me toward his erection. I put the tip in between my lips and swirl my tongue.

“Por favor…I’m going out of my mind,” he chokes out.

“Now? Do you think you can come for me now?”

When he tilts his head back and exhales with a throaty groan, I slide all of him in my mouth, taking him deeper and deeper.

Clutching the desk with both hands, he comes in long, hot spurts and I swallow it all. I slide up his torso and nuzzle his neck with my nose, feeling the strong throbbing of his pulse against my lips.

He’s trembling. Good. Exactly what I want.

“What are you doing to me, Justine?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

I pull away and stare into his velvet-brown eyes. I use a dainty finger to wipe the corner of my mouth and smile.

I held the white rose in my hands, running my index finger over the velvety outer layers.

“I feel bad for doing this because they’re so gorgeous, but…” I tore the flower from its stem, letting the green stalk drop into the water. Opening my cupped hand, I separated the delicate petals, then clasped my fingers around them, creating a cocoon.

I leaned into Rafael’s body, and he slipped his arm around my waist. Kissed the side of my head. We were standing in knee-deep water on a beach in the Florida Keys, and the sun was bright, intense, making the sky a pretty, white-blue.

This was my way of marking the day that my mom and brother were killed in the crash. It’d been three years. Usually I did it alone, but that year, I’d asked Rafa to come with me.

Slowly, I raised my arm and twisted my hand so my fingers faced the water. I released the white petals, and they fluttered downward, into the pale blue water.

“My mom loved white roses.” I sniffled a noseful of salt air as Rafa handed me a second rose. I again plucked the bud from the stem, separating the petals and tucking them into a soft fist. After a moment of silence, I scattered them into the glass-clear water. The petals bobbed and floated around our legs.

“Sometimes I feel so guilty.”

“Why?” Rafa asked. “You didn’t cause the crash.”

“Because I’m the one who lived. My brother was the one with all the promise.”

“Justine, stop. That’s not true.” He pulled me toward him roughly.

“No. I can see it in my father’s eyes. He also wishes my brother had lived, so he could take over the paper. I’m useless to him. I’m a writer. I can’t take over the family business. If anyone should have died, it should have been me. I’ve wished it had been me. Why was I the only one in the car who lived? I didn’t have a scratch.”

He tightened his grip on my arm. “Don’t ever say that again. Don’t ever wish you weren’t alive. If you hadn’t lived, we wouldn’t have met.”

I nodded and rested my head on his chest.

“I haven’t felt awful lately. Not since meeting you. It’s today, the anniversary, that’s getting to me.”

I turned to look at the ocean. Rafael was still holding a white rose in his hand.

“Who’s that for?”

Rafael tore the bud from the stem.

“My mother.”

“Do you even know that she’s dead?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her since she put me on that boat with my aunt and uncle. She might as well be dead.”

Pointing with the stem toward the horizon, Rafael squinted into the sun. “I left Cuba from right about there.”

He flung the stem into the sky. It made a buzzing noise as it flew through the air.

“She probably had a really good reason for sending you to Florida with Tio Marcello and Tia Rosa. So you’d have a better life.”

I was shocked to see him close an angry fist around the bud, crushing the delicate petals. He opened his hand, and the crumpled flower fluttered to the water.

“Maybe she did. Or maybe she just didn’t want to be a mom.” His voice was bitter.

“No. I refuse to believe that. And like you just told me, don’t be angry or bitter or sad. If your mom hadn’t put you on that boat, we wouldn’t have met.”

I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled my nose into his collarbone.

He kissed the top of my head. “We’re kind of broken, aren’t we?”

I peered into his face and smiled. “Yeah. But together, we’re like one whole person.”

Rafael grinned. “I like that. One whole person.”

That was what I loved about him—that he accepted me, understood me, gave me space for my grief. “Kiss me, Rafa.”

As he did, the last of the white rose petals floated away.