Page 74 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

Accusation sharpens his words. I shove aside a niggle of guilt. I have nothing to feel guilty about.

“No one I’ve met in Paris knows I’m married.” I brace, then hold up my left hand, waggling my fingers before refocusing on shoving food back into my bag. “It’s easier that way.”

“Easier for who?”

“For me,” I shoot back.

The lobby goes quiet again, save for the rustle of produce and the tiny grunt that escapes my lips as my leg spasms again.

“You fell.”

I tense. Then, finally, “Yes.”

“Did he cause you to fall?”

“Rafe—”

He appears at my elbow, not close enough to disrupt what I’m doing, but close enough that every cell in my body responds to his proximity. To the memory of what occurred between us last night.

“I asked you a question, Tessa.”

My head whips around and I stare up at him.

“I heard you, Rafe. Don’t talk down to me because your ego’s bruised for some obscure reason. Yes, Thomas caused me to fall. No, you can’t kill him and bury him in a quarry somewhere. Yes, I’m in pain. Thank you for asking.” I reach out and wrap my fingers around the nightie still clutched in his hand. “And that’s mine.”

The bastard doesn’t relinquish his hold. No, he arches a brow and stares down at me, indiscernible emotion flickering in his eyes.

“Who did you buy it for?”

My thighs clench. I steady myself as I toss back my head and meet his gaze head-on.

“Me.”

His eyes darken. The air between us charges with electricity. My breathing grows ragged as he leans down slightly. God, is he going to kiss me?

“We need to talk.”

His voice is still measured, controlled. But the underlying huskiness sinks into my skin as warmth pools between my thighs.

“Okay.”

“Not here.”

I look away first, not wanting him to see how much I’m feeling right now. How much I’m desiring him. “Where?”

“Come with me and find out.”

I swallow hard. It’s hard for me to picture Rafe inviting me back to his hotel or some other location with a bed just so he can divest me of my virginity and send me on my way. Although at the same time, I think with a tiny smirk, he’s known for his efficiency.

No, the most likely scenario is that he wants to talk through terms and conditions. Negotiate in a setting where he’s in control. I’d prefer the comfort of my apartment. But I’m also learning when to pick my battles, when to push and when to accept that things might need to go a different way.

“All right. Let me put my groceries up and get my wheelchair.”

“You still use it?”

I nod. “Some days are good for crutches. Others aren’t, especially if I’m tired or hurting. Or if I might be moving around for a long time.”

“I’m coming up with you.”

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