Lincoln is handsome. Sought after. Ridiculously successful.
And my insides stay stubbornly neutral, the exact reaction I’d have if sitting across from a well-meaning cousin.
As soon as he disappears from sight, I grab my phone from my clutch, ready to send an extraction demand to Quinn when the device vibrates in my hand.
Raffael’s name flashes on screen.
All the blood drains from my body.
I stare at those letters, the three syllables whispering through my mind, my heart pitter-pattering without permission.
I can’t answer.
I haven’t spoken to him since the meeting months ago. Haven’t read a text. Haven’t allowed a crack in my defenses.
But he also hasn’t initiated contact in a month.
What if something’s wrong? What if there’s been an incident at Prison Camp Cavallo?
I skirt my finger over the connect button, unable to stop myself from pressing it. A mass of nerves overtakes me as I raise the cell to my ear, my chest tightening into an aching knot. “Hello?”
“Hi.” Raffael’s simple yet refined reply is enough to have me closing my eyes in an effort to beat back the longing.
“Why are you calling?” I fake fortitude I don’t feel. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Why? Is your date the possessive type?”
My eyes snap open, my heart forgetting how to beat.
“My date?” I dart my gaze around the room, scanning faces, searching for a familiar silhouette.
“I assume that’s an accurate description for the man in the ill-fitting three-piece who I assume moonlights as a leadership coach for mediocre middle management.”
He’s here?
Watching?
My stomach floods with butterflies. “Where are you?”
“Keeping out of sight as stipulations demand. But it would be a disservice not to tell you how stunning you look in that dress.The neckline should be illegal.”
I force my free hand to remain on the table instead of slapping it across the gaping cleavage of said illegal neckline—my outfit another Quinn snafu seeing as though she’s the one who insisted I wear something I swore was far too revealing for a first date.
“If you’re calling about your brother, you need to speak to Quinn, and apart from that we have nothing else to discuss.”
“I’ve spoken to Quinn about Eliseo every week for months. That’s not why I’m calling.”
He has?
And she didn’t tell me?
Jealousy spears through me. Yes, I’d told my best friend to keep me on a strict CliffsNotes diet regarding the man who abducted me, but having her withhold information on Raffael when I’ve struggled to get over him seems cruel.
Logical, but cruel.
“What do you want?” I remain still. Act unfazed.
“Our arrangement to keep distance has run its course. It’s time to renegotiate terms.”