Twice Between The Sheets (2 Nights A Week)

Chapter 3: The Fire and Ice

Rafael slammed his fist on the desk, cursing under his breath. The image of Arabella—the firebrand who had stormed into his world and left chaos in her wake—was burned into his mind. Yes, she's beautiful, he thought bitterly, but she's like a spice on the tongue, too fiery, too bitter. The chances of getting to know her? Probably zero. His office, typically his sanctuary, felt like a cage now, the walls closing in with every thought of her.

A sharp knock, followed by the door flying open, shattered his moment of solitude. Vivian stormed into the room like an unstoppable force, her heels clicking against the floor as though she were marching into battle. Her fiery red hair seemed to crackle with an energy all its own, matching the fury in her eyes. Without preamble, she launched into her tirade.

"Rafael!" she snapped, her voice like a whip. "I saw you hitting on her! How could you fall for that snobby bitch?!"

Rafael turned slowly in his chair, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral. What does she expect from me? he thought. She knew what I was about, what we were about. She knew the rules. He sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

"I'm not falling for anyone, Vivian," he muttered, his words curt. "I was just introducing myself to her."
Vivian's eyes narrowed, disbelief written across her face.

"I'm not blind, Rafael. I saw the way you were looking at her. The way you touched her. I thought we had something special going on, something more."

Rafael's jaw clenched, his patience worn thin. He leaned back in his chair, staring at her with a weary gaze. "Vivian, I told you," he said, his voice low but firm. "Don't expect anything more than what we have going on for each other. You knew this from the start."

Vivian's face faltered, the fire dimming in her eyes for a moment. She crossed her arms, clearly frustrated, but she still couldn't hide the hurt that lingered beneath the surface. "But I love you," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Love doesn't last forever, but friendship does," Rafael replied, his voice softening just a little. He didn't want to hurt her, but there was no denying the truth of his words. He wasn't a man made for lasting commitment. He never had been. "Now, tell me... who won?" he asked, shifting the conversation to something less personal, more business.

Vivian's eyes flared back with intensity. "Arabella," she said, the words slipping out with a hint of bitterness. "But since she left, they're not sure if she wants the contract or not. They might give it to the second runner-up instead."

Rafael's mind briefly flickered away from the conversation. He could still see her in his mind's eye: Arabella, lying on a king-sized bed, the smooth red sheets caressing her skin. She'd be dressed in white, feeding him strawberries, her lips a provocative smile. The soft melody of a romantic tune would play as the camera rolled, capturing every seductive movement. The fantasy was too real, too vivid, too dangerous.

Suddenly, the sharp, disembodied voice of the therapist cut through his daydream, a reminder of the haunting words that had followed him ever since their first session. "PERVERT addiction rule #2: Do you find yourself fantasizing about women in bed with you in an isolated room?"

Rafael's eyes snapped open, his hands shaking slightly. He exhaled sharply, trying to shake the sudden disquiet from his mind. The voice was so damn real. He couldn't escape it.

Vivian was still talking, but now it felt distant, her words muffled in his ears. "Rafael! Are you listening to me?! Rafael!" She was waving a hand in front of his face, a touch of irritation in her tone.

"Yeah, yeah," Rafael muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his thoughts. He looked up at her, forcing a mask of focus over the storm that raged inside his head. "What were you saying?"