“I have always wondered what it would be like to be close with your father,” Rafael purrs, leaning toward me. I’ve watched him easily slip in and out of his controlled emotions, and I know he’s playing me, but my body doesn’t respond in the way he wants it to. I lean away him, searching his black eyes for some answers. While my body no longer responds to his techniques, I can’t deny he’s the most seductive man I have ever met.

“My father was amazing. The greatest man I’ve ever known,” I whisper, looking down at my lap. I can’t imagine having a childhood without a father present.

“What did he do for a living?” His soft tone only adds another element for me to lose myself.

“He was an accountant,” I answer obediently, meeting his eyes again.

“Mmm. Good with numbers,” he hums. “And, money.”

“Yes.” My brain is signaling me to stay cautious, but I’m overwhelmed by the secrets and questions floating through my mind; I answer before I have the chance to completely think through my answers.

“Did he work at a large firm?”

“No. He owned his own company, had private clients.”

“Did you know any of them?”

“Just Santiago.”

Our conversation is broken when the waiter pours a mimosa into the glass in front of me. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. I’m unsure what it is about Rafael that compels me to answer him. I want to believe that if I answer his questions, he’ll answer some of mine, but I know in my heart that isn’t the case.

I scoot farther away from him in the booth, seriously needing some space between us. Now that the fog he put me in over the past few days has lifted, I’m utterly confused and wary by his line of questioning. He wanted to know what it was like being close to a father, then started asking about my dad’s business. My dad’s business has nothing to do with why I loved him or why we were close. Money. Does he think I have money? I glance at his suit and watch on his wrist before looking around the restaurant. A small snort escapes, thinking that he would need money from me.

When the waiter walks away, Rafael continues his line of questioning. “Santi—” He stops, clearing his throat. “My father was a client of your father’s?”

I’m tentative to answer this now. “Why do you want to know about my dad’s business?”

Rafael raises one shoulder in nonchalance, slowly moving closer to me. I move farther around the circular seat each time he moves closer. He smiles and chuckles. “Don’t want to be too close to me, chiquita?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. You’re my landlord.” I swallow, trying to read his facial features, but his expression is perfectly composed. He’s claiming to want to know me, but he hasn’t asked a single question about me. Sure, my family is part of me, always will be, no matter the years without them. But why is he asking about my dad’s clients? What does that have to do with me?

“Is that the only reason?” he asks curiously, eyes watching me like a hawk, scanning every part of my face.

“Yes.” My response almost sounds like a question. I hate the way he’s making me react. Usually I’m more composed and confident. I’ve worked hard to make it appear like I have it all together and I’m ready to take on the world at any time. This confusing, and undeniably dangerous man is completely throwing me off my game. The questions and red flags are popping up too late, and now I’m here in a booth in the corner of a restaurant with this man as my only way home.

“You do not sound sure that is the only reason.” His hand on the table moves closer to mine, and I clench my hand into a fist and bring it down to my lap.

Roman appears in my mind. Roman’s eyes filled with heat and desire for me are burned into my brain. I should feel no loyalty to him; we haven’t been a couple in a long time. This morning was the first time I saw him in years and yet if any man asked me out on a date today, I would turn them down because of him. That just pisses me off.

“It’s the only reason,” I lie, once more, giving him a small, closed smile. My voice sounds more confident, but if he knew me at all, he’d know I wasn’t telling the truth.

Rafael stays silent for a moment, staring at me before he speaks. “You seem preoccupied today.”

I close my eyes, pursing my lips and trying to get Roman out of my mind. “I ran into my ex-boyfriend this morning. I think it’s just throwing me for a loop.” I don’t mention the run-in happened in my bed.

“Your ex-boyfriend?”

My eyes snap open at his menacing tone. His jaw is clenched and rage is building in his eyes. I look around the booth and the restaurant, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Even the mentions of his father didn’t bring this much anger. “What is his name?” Rafael seethes.

I answer without thinking, leaning away from him, pressing my spine into the leather back. “Roman.”

Rafael’s fist comes down on the table softly enough to not bring attention to our table, but hard enough to rattle the silverware. I move farther away from him and closer to the edge of the booth. He doesn’t miss my action. His fist uncurls before he shoves his trembling hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. This is the first time I’ve seen him having trouble reining in his emotions. He closes his eyes, breathing in and out for a few seconds before opening them again. I use his distraction to slide away even more. A charming smile falls into place and his eyes round in apology.

“Chiquita,” he murmurs. “I am sorry about my outburst. I find that I am bewitched by you. You have invaded my thoughts since I saw you in your little store. Thoughts of you with another man clearly don’t do good things to me.”

His words are spoken to be lovely but just part of a game to him. I don’t miss the subtle insult, my little store. I stare at him, trying to figure out what he wants. If I hadn’t noticed his mask, I might have believed his lies that are meant to make me swoon.

I grab my purse off of the booth and clear my throat. “I’m not feeling all that well. I would like to leave. Now.” I throw as much conviction into the last word as I can.

“Please don’t let my jealousy interfere with our date.” His hands slide across the table, reaching for my hand clasped tightly around my purse.

“This isn’t a date,” I insist.

The rage comes back to his eyes just for a moment before disappearing again. “I could give you more than you can even imagine.”

I wrinkle my nose, disgusted that he thinks he can buy me. “I’m truly not feeling well. I’ll call for a ride so you can finish your food.”

Rafael releases an agitated breath. “No. I will take you home.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I slip out of the booth and walk to the front door, not looking back at him. I don’t know if he needs to wait for the check, or if he will throw cash down on the table, but I’m not going to sit in that booth with him again and risk further hypnosis.

He’s at my side before I reach the front door, opening it for me. The valet pulls his car around quickly. Rafael tries to get more conversation out of me during the drive to my apartment, but I don’t really respond. When he pulls up in front of my building, he starts to open his car door, but I stop him.

“Please. I can go inside by myself. I’m really not feeling well, I’d like to just go in. Please stay here.”

“I would be happier accompanying you to your door.” He leans toward me, moving my hair off my shoulder and grazing my neck with his fingertips. “I want to see you again.”

“I’ll call you,” I say before rushing out of the car and into my building, letting the latch and lock close behind me. When I get inside my apartment, I lean against the door, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. This is all too much for one day, and it’s only lunchtime.

“Hey, Sugar.”