Page 45 of The Dark Obsession

“Well, I didn’t expect you to have a bar.” I approached a table.

“There’s a lot you wouldn’t expect from me.” He sits opposite me.

“Then, tell me …” I sip from my wine glass.

Rafael looks behind him.

Lucy pours us more wine, then leaves the bottle on the table.

“You can go now,” he says to her, and she leaves the room. Rafael walks to the bar and returns with another bottle and two glasses. “Scotch?” he asks, pouring it anyway. He drinks his back, and I follow. He pours another, then sets down the bottle. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“Well, what is it that I wouldn’t expect from you?”

He sighs, and a smile creeps across his lips. “There’s a lot, Rosalie, ranging from my childhood to why a man like me works in a small town like this, and even my family. The reason I’ve not married and settled down is usually one of the first questions I’m asked.”

“Then why? Why haven’t you married?” I fiddle with my hair, waiting for his reply.

His lips turn upward. “Since living here, I’ve filled my alone time with women and fun. Settling down doesn’t attract me.” He frowns at his hands.

I shuffle in my seat with a tinge of jealousy towards these women, then I drink back my drink. “You’re single. Why not.”

“I feel like a bad person,” he murmurs. “I should do better. I’m meant to do better.”

“I think we’ve all done it.”

“Done what, exactly?”

“Slept with people just because we want to feel something.”

“Really? You too?”

“Uh, yeah, a couple times. It never really helped anyway.”

He looks away, his jaw is tight. “You’re right; it doesn’t. When was the last time you did that?” He still doesn’t look at me.

I think for a second. “Maybe with Dale. The more I think about us, the more it doesn’t make sense. I’ve just been so alone recently, and I just thought he’d make me feel less lonely.”

“You’ll never be alone again, Rose,” he mutters. “But my reasoning is maybe a bit more selfish, and I think I’ll always feel bad for that.” His deep purple shirt hangs loosely off his chest, and he’s leaning forward, his elbow on the table and his hand cradling his chin. His beautiful eyes stare at my hands. The most angelic man I’ve met truly believes he is bad.

“You’re not at all bad.” I take hold of his other hand.

“I feel like I’ve failed,” he whispers and squeezes my hand.

“Failed whom?”

“Never mind.” He brushes his hand across his cheek to wipe away an invisible tear.

“Can you dance?” I ask, trying to distract him.

He grins and stands, pulling me up. “Naughty or nice?”

I splutter awkwardly as he wraps his arms around me and holds me close. I take a deep breath, my forehead against his shoulder.

“We’ll start with nice.” He laughs, his breath hot against my ear.

I shiver against his body as the music grows louder.

He spins me around the dancefloor, his lead easy to follow. His hands rest delicately on my waist as the song echoes to an end. He looks at me.

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