Rafael

Chapter 18 - Speak Of The Devil And She Will Appear

Rafael's POV
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It had been a few weeks since she-who-shall-not-be-named kissed me and then ran out like her ass was on fire.

She had me questioning my...abilities for a second but after a trip down memory lane later I was certain she had basically told me to fuck off for other reasons.

Usually, it was me who snubbed women after I had grown tired of them and now this assistant had the nerve to tell me to forget it ever happened.

Forget it ever happened?

The best kiss of my life and it seemed like she wasn't affected in the least.

Not knowing what the hell she was thinking was driving me insane.

Poetic justice for all the other girls I had discarded like trash, no doubt.

All I could say was that it was certainly no fun being the trash.

When Gareth told me that he and Mia were just friends and would be nothing more, I couldn't resist putting the moves on her at work even though I knew I was the opposite of what was good for her.

Selfish people like me didn't take those things into consideration until people got hurt.

Her sharp intake of breath when I had wrapped my arms around her so she couldn't get away told me that she had figured out in a matter of seconds that I was bad for her, like cigarettes for healthy lungs.

I hated that she figured me out so quickly.

I was fucked up in every sense of the phrase and I often let parts of it out unknowingly.

As far back as I could remember, my father had physically abused my mother and me in ways that to this day, I couldn't even fathom.

For the simplest things such as leaving a light on in the bathroom, I would receive a cut on my arm from a knife that wouldn't even get a chance to fully heal before 'dad of the year' cut it open again to make sure I completely learned my lesson.

I couldn't even use the excuse that he was a drunk to try and excuse his behavior because Prometheus Montero had never even touched a bottle of spirits in his life.

He abhorred people who chose to waste their lives with frivolous activities like getting drunk.

He was just naturally ruthless and wanted everything to be done in a specific way or else.

Sometimes he would lull us into a false sense of security by actually being decent towards us for a while then strike suddenly and painfully like a cobra when we least expected it.

I remember when I was about eleven years old, Prometheus gave my mother a beautiful gold necklace for their anniversary.

My mother was so blinded by the jewelry's beauty that she didn't see the despicable smile on his face when he was securing the clasp around her neck.

A few hours later he grabbed that same necklace that was still on her neck and suffocated her with it until she fainted.

It was very traumatizing to eleven-year-old me because I thought she was dead and all I was doing was standing there in shock.

My feet felt as if they were glued to the floor.

All I could do was stand there and cry, quickly wiping my tears before he could see them.

He thought tears equaled weakness and anytime he saw me crying, I would receive a severe blow to the face that often left a blotchy red handprint in its wake.