Page 46 of The Collector
She smoothed the hem without thinking, fingers brushing the fabric as if what he thought mattered more than the way she felt. He looked at her for a beat longer than he meant to. "Yeah," he said. "Just a dress, filled with enough sex appeal to make a man forget his edge. You're beautiful."
He didn't say it for effect. He said it because it was true. That dress, her eyes, the way she looked at him like he wasn't dangerous at all.
It made everything else in his mind go quiet.
And damn if that didn't mess with his head.
God damn, she is such a good girl.
Raven took her hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."
Shelby had done exactly as he asked.
A hundred candles bathed the back patio in soft glow, scattering flickering light across the stone and tracing a path to the beach. The air smelled faintly of salt and wax, with a hint of warmth. If this wasn't romantic, Raven didn't know what was.
"This is… beautiful," she said softly. "You did all this for me, Raven?"
Raven smiled, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Shelby handled the setup. I just told her what I wanted tonight to feel like—with you."
He nodded toward the candlelit path. "There's more. Beachside buffet, champagne, and later—music."
She tilted her head, curious. "What kind of music?"
"Something soft," Raven said, his gaze steady. "I've got a few songs lined up." He saw the flicker of surprise in Mynx's eyes and grinned, a little sheepish.
"So tonight," he added with a laugh, "you'll be hearing the musical stylings of Raven Cordoba." He meant it to be light, casual even—but the truth pressed just beneath the surface. He'd practiced one song with her in mind, each note a quiet confession he hadn't yet found the courage to speak. The melody carried what his voice couldn't: the ache, the hope, the pull. And when he played it, he didn't look at her—because if he did, she might hear everything.
And if she smiled the way he hoped she would, he knew he'd play it like it mattered.
Talking to Mynx was easy—once you got past the fierce protectiveness she carried for her family. Beneath that, she was laid-back. Relaxed, even. The kind of woman who didn't need conversation to fill the space between them.
She listened like it mattered. Spoke like she meant it.
And Raven, who'd spent years keeping people at arm's length, found himself leaning in to her without even realizing it.
"Alright," Mynx said, leaning in and resting her head on his shoulder. "Let's hear this amazing guitar playing you've been hyping up all night."
Raven chuckled, nerves flickering in his stomach. "Okay, but just so we're clear—I'm no David Gilmour, Butterfly."
He reached across the blanket, picked up the acoustic guitar, and sat in front of her. "My dad didn't go easy on me just because I was his son. If anything, he made it harder."
He shifted, brushing his fingers over the strings. "Back when I was a kid, guitar wasn't about music. It was survival. Escape. From the violence. From the blood. From him."
He paused, eyes on the horizon. "I hadn't played in years. Not until I saw you at Cover Girls. You got stuck in my head, and suddenly music made sense again." Mynx smiled at him, wrapping a blanket around her shoulder and settling back to listen.
He glanced at her, voice softer now. "So, I learned this song. Didn't know if you'd ever hear it. But you were on my mind so much, it just felt right to put it somewhere."
He gave her a crooked smile. "If it's not perfect… bear with me."
The first few notes came out shaky. Raven winced, laughed it off, and started again. This time, the intro to "Yellow" by Coldplay came through—fragile, but honest. Every note said what he hadn't figured out how to—that he saw her—and everything that made her who she was: the fire, the beauty, the dedication she had to her family.
When he finished playing, Raven looked at her and saw the tears in her eyes—quiet, unspoken, but real. He knew she understood him. Not everything. But enough. Enough to shift something in him. She mattered. If not to the rest of the world,then to him. And in that moment, he decided. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Claim her. Marry her. Pay off her debt. Whatever it took. She was the woman for him, and he wasn't about to let her slip through his fingers.
The music faded, but the feeling lingered. They didn't say much after that—didn't need to.
Eventually, the night folded in around them. Stars overhead. Her head on his shoulder. His fingers were still tingling from the strings.
And somewhere between the last note and the first light, Raven made peace with the choice he'd already made.
