I leaned forward, pressing my mouth to his.
Then I held on to him, with the same raw desperation I heard in his voice.
For just a bit longer.
ChapterFifty-Three
RAPHAEL
Ilet her go.
It has been twenty-seven days, six hundred and forty-eight hours, and thirty-eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes since I dropped her off at my penthouse in Miami. Two of my most trusted men guarded the front door. I had a team of fifty men guarding the building and stalking her whenever she went anywhere.
And I still worried about her. Every goddamn second of the day.
My jaw tightened, my molars grinding hard as I walked away from her and my fucking eyes burned.Dios mío!Suddenly, I was a fucking pussy, weeping for a woman. But she wasn’t just any woman. She was my wife.
I got updates daily. She took up self-defense classes. She even went to a gun range and practiced shooting. She was good to begin with but she muttered to her bodyguard she wanted to be even better.Invincible.
The problem was that none of us were invincible, and she’d have to come to terms with it.
Either way, I knew what she ate, what she wore, where she went, and how badly she screamed at night. The latter tore at me. I wanted to comfort her, assure her I’d do a better job and protect her.
I fucking failed her.
So here I was. I let her go and hoped she’d find her way back to me. Unfortunately with each day that passed, that hope dimmed. I hadn’t shaved in days and the only reason I hadn’t been nursing a bottle of Aguardiente was because of Gabriel.
We agreed he’d split his time between her place and the island. He’d go to her penthouse after school and they’d work through homework together, play with Bruno, and she'd cook him dinner.Or burn it,Gabriel joked. Then they’d walk down the beach with Bruno at their feet. The little French bulldog became her only constant companion.
Despite the fact Sailor hated letting Gabriel go each evening when my driver went to pick him up, she refused to let him spend the night. She didn’t need to say why. Her nightmares.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes traveling around the table. I cracked my knuckles. Then cracked them again. The restlessness ghosted under my skin and my patience was running paper thin.
Each day that passed without Sailor became worse and worse. She needed space. I neededher. In my bed, in my home. Fuck, just with me. I didn’t know how I’d get through another fucking day without her, never mind another month.
Here I sat in front of three men from the Mexican cartel, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my wife. If a bullet lodged itself in my head, I’d fucking deserve it. You just didn’t do business with the cartel while fantasizing about a woman.
“We could start a partner—”
“I’m not interested in any partnership.” I cut the man off, my voice impassive. “Anything else? Or do you want to talk more shit?”
Tension crept through the air and the Mexican drug lord flashed me a knowing grin. “It looks like Señor needs a woman to warm his bed,” he started.Oh he did not!“I have a supply of women. You take your pick.”
“I’m married,” I snapped. “And the next time you offer a woman or even hint at bringing a trafficked woman onto my territory, I’ll burn your whole fucking business to the ground. Understood?”
His tanned skin turned blotchy and he shot up from his spot, then left the room, slamming the door behind him.
His men followed and with the meeting concluded, my eyes darted over the Atlantic Ocean, the clear aqua colors reminding me of Sailor’s eyes.
My men left with the rest of them, leaving me alone with Caine. He flicked a hesitant look my way.
“What?” I barked. Yes, my temper has had a short fuse these days.
“Listen, Raphael,” he said from the seat beside me, “you might have to consider that she’s not coming back.”
Never.
I’d find a way to bring her back to me. I was the devil. I’d find a way. I’d find a way to steal her soul, her heart, and her body. Somehow.