Chapter 3 SPLIT FEELINGS

Rafael's POV

The city skyline stretches below me, as I stare out the window of my room in the penthouse suite with a glass of whiskey and ice in my hand.

Ariella Sinclair.

That name tastes like ash and at the same time, honey on my tongue.

Her father's legacy- Sinclair Global Holdings- destroyed my family, chewed us up and spat us out like we were nothing.

I was fifteen when it happened; old enough to understand what was going on but too young to do anything about it.

I close my eyes now and think of my father's office- wood paneled, always smelling of his cologne and old books.

It was like a fortress to me until the day the letters came with bank notices and eviction orders.

Things became tough for us, but the final blow was a buyout ordered by Alexander Sinclair, Ariella's father, that left my father with nothing but debts and... despair.

I remember my mother's non stop tears and the way my father stopped looking me in the eye like he was ashamed of himself.

I didn't understand his shame but I finally did when we found his body, and I remember the promise I made at his funeral.

... 'One day, I'll make them pay.'

Now, years later, I direct at the heart of the empire that destroyed my father's.

Sinclair's daughter is the final piece in a game that I've been playing for a long, long time to finally have my revenge but she's not at all what I expected.

Ariella's not the ice princess I imagined her to be.

She's fire and defiance, strength and a surprising sort of vulnerability all tangled up together.

Each time she looked at me since the funeral, it's like she's trying to see through me and strip away the layers I've spent years building.

Exhaling, I take a long sip of whiskey and feel the burn slide down my throat.

A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts but before I can answer, the door opens.

The others don't lightly or gently at all so I should know who it is, but for some reasons I'm actually surprised to see Ariella standing there, framed by the low light.

Perhaps it because she's in a silk robe that does nothing to hide the curves on her body that even the funeral clothes this morning couldn't cover from my eyes--- curves I've tried not to think about.

"Rafael," she says in a low and hesitant voice.

"Can we talk?"

Her eyes are wide, and I know she's here for answers I can't give.

Mentally I scold myself for talking too much earlier in her room--- there's no answer I can give her now.

"Come in," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended it to; I wish she had just fallen asleep as soon as I left.

She steps inside, and the door clicks shut behind her.

Bastard thing.

"Why did you leave me like that?" she asks, twisting her hands on the belt of her robe. "One second you're... and the next you're gone."

I stare at her, "Because this-" I gesture between us "-is complicated."

Her brows knit together at my words like I've confused her and she says; "It doesn't have to be."

I let out a harsh laugh. "Doesn't have to be? Ariella, nothing in this world comes without a price. You should know that by now."

She steps closer to me and the scent of her skin- vanilla and sweetness fills my senses.

"Then tell me the truth. Why are you here? Why do you care to be in this... one to seven marriage?"

I don't answer; I don't plan answering any of her questions but then she adds;

"Richard said Directors could leave but they would be compensated for all the years they'd worked with my father---- unlike in my case. So tell me why did you agree?"

"Why did YOU agree?" I ask, turning the question back at her.

"I'm my father's daughter," she replies, raising her eyebrows at me like I had just asked the most stupid question possible.

"Well...?" She says, still stubbornly waiting for my reply.

I look away from her to the window and see the city lights blurring into a mix of white and red.

"I'm here because your father destroyed everything I loved," I say and the words taste like blood on my tongue.

"He stole my family's business and ruined us."

Ariella gasps softly as if she's surprised at the fact---- seems like daddy didn't tell his daughter how he operated his business.

"My father-?"

"Yes," I snap,. "Your father was a monster, Ariella. He crushed anyone who stood in his way, and he did it with a smile."

She swallows hard. "I didn't know," she whispers. "I swear."

I close the distance between us in one stride and wrap my arm around her wrist.

"You didn't know, but you're part of it now. You're his heir and his legacy."

"I'm not him," she immediately claims--- typical--- but even as she says that her lips tremble.

"I want to believe that," I say, surprising myself by actually saying that aloud.

"But every time I look at you, I see him."

She reaches up, brushing her fingers over my cheek, burning me with her touch is electric.

"Then look at me," she whispers. "Really look at me."

I do, and her eyes are wide, dark and full of something I can't name- hope, maybe, or fear, that makes more sense.

Suddenly all I see is her and my hand slides to her waist, pulling her even closer.

Her robe parts slightly, revealing the curve of her neck, her collarbone and the soft skin I'm feeling now that begs to be touched.

"You're playing a dangerous game," I murmur, hovering my lips over hers.

"So are you," she breathes and I crush my mouth to hers.

She gasps, flying her hands to my shoulders and digging in with her fingers.

I lift her, carrying her to the bed and hear the whiskey glass break on the floor.

Seems I'd let go of it without knowing.

"Rafael-" she rasps, breaking from the kiss and looking up at me with her eyes wide and her lips swollen from my kiss.

"Shh," I whisper, tracing my fingers over the curve of her jaw.

"Let me."

It feels better to touch her than to answer any of her questions, especially about her father.

I untie her now loose robe completely, watching the silk slide over her skin like water and watching as her breath catches, and her breasts rise and fall as I drink her in.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, my voice rough and her lips part, letting out a soft moan as my hands explore, sliding over her curves.

"Please," she whispers, her now hooded.

"Please what?" I tease, brushing my lips over the shell of her ear.

"Please don't stop," she pleads.

A growl rumbles in my chest as I claim her mouth again, roaming my hands and exploring every inch of her.

She arches into me, trembling and tangling her fingers up in my hair and I take her slowly, savoring every gasp, every shiver, every whispered plea.

But even as I lose myself in her, a voice in my head whispers that I shouldn't want her and shouldn't definitely be doing this

But her moans, the way her nails scrape down my back, the way her lips part when she says my name-

Fuck.

I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her scent and the sweetness, and the heat of her skin.

"Ariella," I groan, my voice coming out ragged.

"Rafael," she gasps, arching her body against mine.

Our bodies move together in a rhythm for every thrust and every kiss as I lose myself in her sweet scent and soft skin.

When she comes, I watch her eyes roll into the back of her head and hear my name become the only word she remembers, and I wish I had met and fucked her sooner.

I'm not even sure why I think that way.

"I hate you," I murmur, my voice muffled by my own pleasure and confusion.

But she's too far gone to hear what I said and I'm too far gone to realise that someone's taking a photographs of the both of us from outside the window.