Twice Between The Sheets (2 Nights A Week)

Chapter 7: The Price of Safety

It took Rafael three hours, a poorly calibrated GPS, and one too many wrong turns before he finally found the Blake residence. By the time he rolled his sleek car to a stop along the quiet suburban street, the sky had shifted to twilight, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns. The neighborhood was pristine-so polished, so meticulously arranged-that it felt like a snapshot from a perfectly staged magazine spread. It was the kind of place where nothing bad ever happened-or so it seemed.

Rafael surveyed the surroundings for a moment, his eyes narrowing. There was something almost suffocating about the serenity, as if the very air held its breath, waiting for the storm to come. He didn't belong here-not with his dark suit, his polished shoes, or the danger that trailed him like a dark shadow-but he didn't mind. He had a job to do.

With quick, purposeful strides, he jogged across the street and rang the bell, his finger pressing firmly against the cold brass button. A faint chime echoed inside, and he stood waiting, composed.

The door swung open moments later, revealing a petite woman with honey-brown curls cascading down her back. Her eyes skimmed him with quick, calculating appraisal before a slow smile tugged at her lips.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked, her voice warm and laced with curiosity.

"Arabella," Rafael replied smoothly, flashing the kind of smile that had gotten him past many doors before. "I'm her boss. She was our presenter for the new skincare line two weeks ago."

The woman's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, her boss! Well, why didn't you say so, handsome? Come on in."

Rafael's smile deepened as he stepped into the house, allowing himself just a moment to appreciate her interest. The air inside was thick with the scent of vanilla and lavender, a strange contrast to the unsettling tension that clung to him. The living room was cozy, decorated with a mix of family photos and mismatched throw pillows, a perfect reflection of a life that appeared too simple to be anything but idyllic.

Mia-at least, that's what he assumed her name was-gestured for him to sit. "Wait here. I'll go get Miss Arabella," she said with a flirtatious wink.

Rafael nodded, settling onto the edge of the couch. He allowed his gaze to roam the room, but his mind was elsewhere-on the conversation he was about to have with Arabella, and the danger that was fast closing in on her. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm against his knee, impatience growing with every passing second.

It wasn't long before the rapid sound of footsteps echoed from the hall. The door flung open with a crash of force, and Arabella stormed into the room, her face a perfect blend of fury and disbelief.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her stance defiant.

Rafael's lips quirked into a sly grin. "Baby, I missed you."

Her eyes blazed with irritation. "Shut up. What do you want?"

He straightened, his posture shifting from casual to something more commanding, more serious. "I don't think it's safe for you to stay here. I handed all the evidence to my police friend."

Arabella's eyes widened in shock, her voice barely above a whisper. "What? You-what are you talking about?"

"This is bigger than you think," Rafael continued, his tone smooth but insistent. "If Dante finds out you and I leaked his operation to the cops-"

She froze, the color draining from her face. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "He'll kill me."

"Yeah," Rafael confirmed, his gaze hardening. "And it might not stop with you. This could affect your whole family."