Twice Between The Sheets (2 Nights A Week)

Chapter 5: The Devil's Bargain

By the time the clock struck two, Forage Café was bustling with weekend shoppers. The air was thick with the scent of espresso and fresh pastries. Rafael sat at a corner table, leisurely savoring a slice of strawberry shortcake, each bite slow and deliberate. He was a man who never rushed, especially not when he was waiting for something—or someone—worth his time.

He glanced at his watch, the gleaming silver catching the light. 2:01 PM. Right on cue, a slim figure in oversized, tinted hippie sunglasses strutted toward him. Her red mini skirt clung to her hips, her legs moving with a grace that made his breath hitch. The woman walked with the kind of confidence that turned heads, her presence commanding the room.

Rafael felt a strange thrill rise in his chest, an unexpected flicker of attraction. As she reached his table, she leaned in, yanking the tiny red spoon right out of his mouth.

"Hey, lady! I need that spoon to eat my cake," Rafael protested, his tone mockingly outraged.

The woman pulled down her sunglasses just enough to reveal the familiar stormy blue of her eyes. "Fool! It's me," she snapped, snapping the glasses back into place.

Rafael's grin widened as recognition dawned. "Baby, you're late," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, utterly unfazed by her fury.

"Shut it," Arabella hissed, sliding into the seat across from him. Her movements were sharp, her anger barely contained. She slammed a crumpled photo onto the table, her eyes blazing. "Care to explain this?"

Rafael picked up the photo, examining it with the lazy interest of a cat batting at a mouse. "You don't like it? I thought it was cute," he teased.

"Why the hell are you stalking me? Taking pictures of me everywhere I go?"

"Relax, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "It's just some innocent shots—nothing you wouldn't post on your Instagram."

"Shhh!" Arabella hissed, leaning forward, her voice a frantic whisper. "Don't say things like that out loud! People are listening."

Rafael's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Why so paranoid? You hiding something? Running a little side business, perhaps? A secret only fans, maybe?"

"Disgusting!" Arabella gasped, her cheeks flushed with indignation. "Do you know who you're talking to? I am Arabella Blake! I have a reputation to uphold, unlike you." She swung her chin away, nose in the air, her haughty expression practically aristocratic.

Rafael couldn't help but smirk. Little did she know her precious Dante was knee-deep in a cesspool of criminal activity. But as he watched her, a thought slithered into his mind. Perhaps she wasn't as innocent as she seemed. Perhaps she was the mastermind behind Dante's operations. The idea was absurd—yet strangely thrilling.

For a moment, he imagined her with a pencil-thin mustache, puffing a cigar like a villain straight out of The Godfather, orchestrating her wicked schemes with a flick of her wrist.

"HEY! MISTER!" Arabella's voice jolted him from his daydream.

"Huh? What?" He blinked, refocusing on the furious woman across from him.

"Why are you tuning me out? What do you want from me? If this stalking continues, I'll report you to the police!"

Rafael's laughter was a low, mocking rumble. "Oh, sweetheart, don't make me laugh. Report me? To the police? I'm sure that's the last thing you'd want."

"What are you talking about?" Arabella's eyes narrowed. "I came here to have a civilized conversation, but you're testing my patience."

"Fine. I'll cut to the chase." Rafael leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What you and your precious boyfriend are up to is illegal. I'm talking human trafficking, sweetheart. I've got enough evidence to send you both to prison."