Page 19 of Forbidden Deception

From visiting all kinds of construction sites with Rafael, to giving him feedback on the smaller models made for him in cardboard, to even dealing with his contractors, it has been a good, fulfilling two weeks.

“I think it’s going to rain.” I point out eyeing the misty clouds.

Rafael sighs, running a hand through his softly curled caramel locks sprinkled with grey. I love his hair. I love his rough yet clean look. I love how his age reflects on his face, the sharp edges of his face. His white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his brown tie neatly hangs in the centre of his shirt, and his matching slacks are fitted to his legs.

Rafael is so much older than me, rougher, quieter, and when he speaks, it’s always some kind of veiled insult. His dry humour cracks me up sometimes.

“Do you think I am a good assistant?”

Silence.

I place my chin on my hand, propped up by my elbow on my leg. And I watch him.

I only had lunch in the canteen twice, and then I just stayed in my office. Having been in a boarding school full of girls who argued, bickered, and blackmailed each other, taught me to identify when and where I should and shouldn’t be.

Boarding school was both a good and bad time for me, though I haven’t talked about it to anyone yet, despite leaving four years ago. I refuse to believe it was part of my life. I refuse to acknowledge I went through that trauma because my parents disowned me and didn’t want me.

Remo and Aurora made me feel loved, gave me my own apartment, space, job, and everything so I could feel like I have control over my life again, but I still didn’t talk about my time in the boarding schools.

I’m not ready to open that Pandora’s box.

“You have a meeting in an hour with the managers,” I mutter quietly, finally giving up. Maybe he does like silence, as he said, and I am just bothering him.

He will end up hating me more than liking me, and forget ever thinking about befriending me.

“Did your parents not teach you manners?” Rafael mutters, making my heart stop.

He looks up from the sketch he’s working on and pins me with a dark, thunderous stare. I tremble.

“Sorry?” I hate to admit this, but my voice squeaks.

“If there is silence, you don’t have to fill it. Especially if the other person isn’t replying to your attempts at conversation. Have some dignity, please.”

Words climb up my throat, retorts and remarks that I want to shoot at him, but he’s jabbing at a deep, painful wound.

“I—”

“Venezia.” He takes in a deep breath.

My skin prickles with irritation. Why does he hate everything I do so damn much?

“I wouldn’t know. Mine left me at an orphanage’s door.” I stand up to my full height, flip my hair over my shoulder, then smirk at him. “Glad I irritate you. It’s the least I can do, considering what you put me through.” With a huff, I turn to leave.

At the door, I pause, then turn back towards him. I walk straight to his desk, posture stiff. Rafael’s eyes are on me the whole time, and his ‘boss’ mask slips. His brows furrow, and he looks truly flabbergasted. He’s stopped working, his hands still over his sketch, while his eyes are stuck to me in shock.

Picking up the coffee cup I gave him, I take a long sip while keeping my eyes on his.

I make sure to finish the remaining sip and place it back in front of him.

“I make a damn good coffee,” I murmur.

Hoping to not get fired, I turn and stride from his office, then wait in the safety of my office.

I don’t know what that stupid stunt was, but I had to do something so I didn’t lash out at him and risk losing my job.

An hour later, we are both sitting in the meeting room, surrounded by at least fifteen site managers with their updates. There are mostly men, but there are women, too, and that makes me happy to see. Rafael sits at the front of the room at the head of the table with me on his left. He silently watches everyone’s presentations and gives feedback, while I jot down important notes.

The tension is so palpable between us that I don’t even risk glancing at Rafael in case I find him glaring at me.

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