Rafael

Chapter 53 - Yes?

It had been weeks since thanksgiving with my parents and I was more than puzzled.

Rafael had been acting weird all week.

Almost like he was scared.

We were in France for work, unfortunately, and I was beginning to wonder if the clean European air was throwing him off.

Maybe he missed that thick New York smog.

Or maybe we were in danger again.

But he would tell me if we were, wouldn't he? 

"Is somebody trying to kill us again?" I asked him in a whisper, fearful the answer would be what I didn't want to hear.

"What? No," He frowned as he helped me into the back of the luxury town car that had been our mode of transportation since we got to Paris.

The plane ride here almost killed me, but thankfully, Rafael distracted me much, in a way that only he knew how to.

It also helped that he fired Farrah and hired a better, less jealous flight attendant for his private jet.

"Is it about your father?"

"No, he's been out of my mind completely ever since the incident."

I couldn't understand how he had gotten over that so quickly, but that was Rafael for you.

His mind worked logically.

His father died which meant he couldn't hurt him again and that was that.

I, on the other hand, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Then why have you been acting weird ever since we got to Paris? Do you not like France?" I asked after realizing that I hadn't got an answer to why he was acting weird lately.

"No, it's nothing like that, Mia. I'm just feeling like the shittiest boyfriend ever because ever since we got here, all we've done is go to meetings. I haven't even taken you to go sightseeing, we're in Paris for God's sake."

The chauffeur looked straight ahead, not paying any attention to our conversation because he only spoke French.

"Well, we came here to work so I didn't expect anything more," I shrugged before softly squeezing his hand in reassurance, not happy that he was feeling inadequate about something so trivial.

At least to me, it was.

"Où dois-je vous emmener, Monsieur Montero?" The chauffeur asked, his mustache moving animatedly when he spoke.

I had no idea what he said.

"Nous allons à l'Hôtel Plaza Athénée," Rafael said to the driver and he nodded once before driving off.

Hôtel Plaza Athénée was the only thing I understood because that was the hotel that we were staying at.

"I still can't believe you can speak French."

All I knew was a little Spanish from high school.

"I told you, I only know some conversational phrases," He smirked, shaking his head at my awe of him that he didn't think he deserved.

He just didn't get it.

Rafael speaking French was the most sensual thing I had ever heard.

I didn't care what he was saying in French either.

He could make any sentence sound hot.

I looked out the window in amazement as we drove past the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower.