“Morning,” Raf says, his lips curving into that crooked smirk when he catches me staring at him. He looks like a man without a care in the world. No sign of guilt. No sign of remembering the way he touched me last night—or how he used me to fulfill his fantasies about Genevieve.
I’m grateful, in a twisted way. It’ll make it easier to bury all of this.
“Morning,” I rasp, my voice like gravel, and I clear my throat as I slip quietly into the bathroom to wash my face.
We dance quietly around each other, me avoiding Raf’s eyes at all costs while I dress in jeans and a fitted sweater, then twist my hair into a loose braid that drapes over my shoulder.
Raf’s voice pulls me up short as I head toward the bedroom door.
“Where are you off to in such a rush this morning?” he asks, crossing the room in three long strides to open the door and follow me down the hall.
“What do you care?” I ask stiffly, keeping my eyes focused forward.
His voice is irritatingly normal when he says, “I thought I might join you for coffee.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod.
We walk in silence toward the freshly renovated dining room, and I force myself to take slow, deliberate breaths in an attempt to calm my racing heart, but all I succeed in doing is catching the scent of him.
He smells fresh, clean—mint combined with amber, bergamot, and cedarwood—infuriatingly good. I hate that it still gets to me.
He steps ahead once more to open the door for me, hand brushing the small of my back as if he intends to let it rest there, and I jerk away instinctively, swatting at his hand.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
Seeming startled by the venom in my voice, Raf stops short, his eyebrow quirking.
I don’t even look at him as I add, “Did you forget this marriage is fake? Save the displays of affection for when others are around.”
He inhales sharply, and when I glance at him, I catch a flicker of surprise in his hazel eyes before it’s snuffed out.
He nods once, controlled. “Of course.”
Lifting my chin, I lead the way into the dining room.
The long table is already set, sunlight pouring across polished wood, and as Raf pulls out a chair for me, I ignore him, heading straight for the far end of the table—as far from him as possible.
He stands behind the chair for a moment, studying me, trying to read me.
Then with a long-suffering sigh, he follows me to the far end of the table, where he pulls out the chair right beside me—just to piss me off.
He finally sits, posture straight and impeccable. “We have a charity gala in a few weeks,” he says quietly, keeping the topic of conversation for my ears only as he gets down to business.
My eyes lift briefly to meet his, then I turn with deliberate indifference to see if breakfast will be served shortly—just in time for one of the maids to enter with a tray full of fruit.
“It’ll be our first public appearance as a united front. Every family who matters will be there, the Tanakas included.” His jaw tics once. “So it will be a perfect opportunity for us to get under Tatsuo’s skin.”
I take a sip of the coffee another staff member sets in front of me, already prepared just the way I like it.
I might hate Raf, but I have quickly come to appreciate the people who work for him. “Of course.”
His gaze narrows a fraction. “I believe your family will be attending as well. Perhaps you can do a better job of convincing them that we’re getting along this time around.”
Relief floods me at the thought of seeing my family—not just my brothers but my parents, Siobhan, and Riley too. It’s only been a few weeks, but I already miss them desperately. “Well,” I say lightly, “That should be easy, given how close we’re becoming. Right, my love?” I pour on the saccharine sweetness until we’re alone in the room once more. Then I let my face fall into a cold, flat expression. “I just hope you’re ready to keep up the whole ‘loving husband’ act for an entire evening. I imagine it must be taxing, given how foreign the feeling must come to you.”
Raf’s stare sharpens. “I can pretend to love you just fine, Aisling.”
My breath stutters—not from the words, but the precision of them, the way they land. My throat tightens, but I force a shrug. “Wonderful. Then we’re on the same page. Now, unless you have something more to discuss with me, I think I’d prefer to enjoy my coffee in our room. Alone.”