Taste of revenge

24

Chapter Twenty-Four
Rafaelo

"N oelle still isn't here," Cisco mutters as he glances at his watch, tapping
his foot impatiently.
Yuyu is by his side as she snakes her arm around his waist, laying her
head on his shoulder.
"Don't fret, she'll be here soon," she tells him gently.
"I can go check on her," I immediately volunteer.
"I'm not sure..." Cisco starts but is interrupted by his wife who urges
me to go on.
"Please do," she nods at me before turning to her husband and chiding
him for being too strict with Noelle. "They are to be married after all," I
hear her murmur as I head to Noelle's room.
After everyone had been made aware of our upcoming nuptials, Cisco
had suggested we went to dinner to celebrate the engagement. Everyone
had been in agreement—everyone but Noelle, that is. And seeing how
vehement she'd been about it, I can only assume she's trying to pull
something off to remove herself from the situation.
Too bad for her that any problem she'll cause will only irritate her
brother. Yuyu is seven months pregnant, and the tiniest inconvenience when
it comes to her has him blow up.
Reaching the third floor, I don't even knock as I push open the door,
ready to catch the little liar in flagrante delicto.
As I take a step inside the room, I am met by an unusual sight.
She's sitting at her vanity.

Still garbed in a silky white robe, she's gazing melancholically in the
mirror. Her hair is swept to the side as she trails a finger down the column
of her neck.
So lost she is in her own world that she doesn't realize she's no longer
alone in the room.
Like feathers, her fingers glide softly over her soft skin, the gesture
unusually sensual.
I stop, my feet firmly planted in the middle of the room as I can only
stare at the vision before me.
Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, lingering over her upper lip. Her
eyes snap closed as a small sigh escapes her lips.
I swallow. Hard.
I can't help the way my eyes are drawn to the expanse of skin available
for my perusal. And as I continue watching her, I note that my breathing is
now emulating hers.
She inhales. I inhale.
She exhales. I exhale.
There's only silence besides our joint breaths, the sound of a heart
hammering in a chest almost deafening—not mine, it could never be mine.
Her fingers move, tracing the corded muscles of her neck, down to her
clavicle.
Without even realizing, my feet carry me forward until I'm behind her,
the mirror reflecting every single gesture she makes.
The tips of her fingers rest on the swell of her breasts, emphasized even
more by the low cut gown she's wearing.
My eyes dip to the tantalizing sight, following her fingers as they
continue to move gracefully down her front.
I feel my own pulse building to a painful crescendo as I continue to lose
myself in visions of velvet skin and soft caresses.
"Done shamelessly staring?" she asks impudently, her eyes wide open.
She's gazing at me through the mirror, a brow raised as she waits for me to
reply.
My mouth opens and closes in an unspoken answer, words failing me as
I become aware of my own mindless state. So caught off guard I'd been by
her words that I can only stare at her flabbergasted.
The shock quickly wears off, however, soon to be replaced with anger.

Pure, insidious anger as I realize how mesmerized I'd been by the barest
hint of skin—by her skin.
Mentally cursing myself, I quickly get myself together, strengthening
my back and throwing her a cold look.
"I was waiting for you to find your shame," I retort on a snort. "Where
are your clothes? You should have been downstairs five minutes ago."
Slowly, she turns. Crossing her arms over her chest, it's to bring her tits
forward, her generous swell becoming more prominent and making my eyes
inadvertently drop to them.
"Eyes here," she says sarcastically, bringing two fingers to her eyes.
"Not my fault you're advertising the goods," I comment, trying to switch
focus from my errant gaze and the fact that once more, my body seems bent
on betraying me. "Get dressed," I say flippantly, looking around and
spotting a dress laid out on the bed.
"No," she replies defiantly, rising up and planting herself in front of me.
"I'm not getting dressed, and I'm not going anywhere with you."
My lips quirk up at her little show of rebellion.
"Really?" I drawl, leaning back and watching her as she starts with her
tirade.
"I'm not marrying you so I don't see why I would go to a dinner that
celebrates a nonexistent engagement."
"You should tell that to your brother," I shrug, turning on my heel. "I
wonder how he will react to that."
"He'll understand when I tell him just who he's allowed into his house,"
she pushes her chin up, her voice steady despite the small tremors going
down her body.
An eyebrow raised, I look at her amused.
"And who is that?" I chuckle, wanting to see what she's trying to
accomplish with this feeble attempt of hers.
She blinks twice, no doubt trying to come up with something clever.
"I'll tell him you only want to marry me for revenge," she declares
smugly.
"Go ahead," I shrug, her eyes flashing when she notes my indifference.
"Why haven't you told him until now?"
"I... I..." she stammers.