Page 44 of A Million Shades Of Love and Betrayal

"Uh-oh," I teased. "You've been thinking, should I be worried?"

"Depends," he said, a playful glint in his eye. "How do you feel about trying something new today?"

"New?" I echoed; curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "There's a shooting range not too far from here. I thought it might be a good way to blow off some steam."

I blinked, taken aback. "A shooting range? Really?"

"Yeah," he said, his expression serious now. "We've both had a lot on our minds lately. I thought it could be... therapeutic."

I considered it for a moment. It was certainly unexpected, but maybe that was the point. I probably should tell him that I was an excellent shot, and my dad and brother taught me and Amirah how to shoot but I wanted this experience with him. "Alright," I agreed, setting down my fork. "Let's do it."

The drive to the shooting range was quick. I've held a gun before, but it’s been a while since I've had to use one. As we pulled into the gravel parking lot, he glanced over at me.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I replied, trying not to give anything away.

Inside, the range was a stark contrast to the cozy bistro. The walls were lined with targets, and the air was thick with the scent of gunpowder. Rafael led the way to the counter, where he rented a couple of handguns and purchased some ammunition. The staff gave us a brief rundown on safety procedures, and then we were shown our lane.

Rafael handed me a pair of ear protectors and safety glasses. "First things first," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Safety is the most important thing here. Always keep the gun pointed downrange, and never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot."

I nodded, slipping on the gear. The weight of the firearm in my hand was familiar, and Rafael's steady presence was comforting. He positioned himself behind me, guiding my hands as I adjusted my grip. I was better at playing a novice than I thought.

"Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Relax your shoulders and take a deep breath."

I did as he instructed, feeling a strange mix of tension and calm. As I squeezed the trigger, the loud bang echoed through the range, followed by the sight of the bullet hitting the target, albeit not exactly where I had aimed. I turned to Rafael, who was watching me with an approving smile.

"Not bad for your first shot," he said. "Try again."

I nodded, adjusting my stance, and aiming once more. This time I let the years of training kick in and I fired hitting the bullseye with ease.

I turned around just in time to see the suspicious look on his face. "You're quite good for a beginner."

I laughed. "It must have something to do with the years of training."

"I knew it," he laughed, not at all angry by my earlier omission of the truth.

After a while, Rafael took his turn, demonstrating his skill with impressive ease. I watched as he hit the target with precision, each shot making me feel like he'd held a gun at least twenty times. When he was done, he set the gun down and turned to me, a grin on his face. "You're not the only one with training."

I smiled, but before I could respond, he cleared his throat, his expression turning serious. "Yasmin, there's something I need to tell you."

I felt a knot form in my stomach. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath. "I think we should move out of the penthouse."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and unexpected. I tried to mask my shock, focusing on adjusting the firearm in my hand, but my mind was racing.

"Why?" I managed to ask, keeping my voice as even as possible.

"Ethan's becoming more of a problem," Rafael explained. "It's not safe for us to stay there anymore. He was lingering in the lobby, who knows what would have happened if he saw you instead of me?"

The words hit me like a shockwave, but I forced myself to stay composed. Adjusting my grip on the gun, I asked. "Do you already have a place in mind?"

Rafael nodded. "Yes, I have a house. The only reason I stayed in the penthouse was because you seemed comfortable there, and I didn't want to take that away from you."

A pang of sadness washed over me. I wondered why a billionaire was living in a penthouse, but I never would have thought I was the reason for it. He hasn't mentioned me at all in his plan to move. Did this mean he wanted me to live elsewhere? Before I could voice my concern, he continued.

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