Chapter 21: The Morning Knock

The pounding on the door was relentless, shaking Rafael from the edges of sleep. With a frustrated groan, he cursed under his breath. Who the hell had the audacity to show up this early? He lifted his head slightly, glancing toward the door, but the knocking only grew louder. Dropping his head back onto the pillow, he exhaled and buried his face into Arabella's hair, inhaling the warm, sweet scent that clung to her. Strawberries. Delicious. Intoxicating.

His lips found the curve of her bare shoulder, brushing against her skin before pressing a lingering kiss. Damn it! The knocking continued, each bang on the door an unwelcome intrusion into their morning.

"Go away..." Rafael muttered against her skin.

Arabella groaned, rubbing her eyes as she slowly pushed herself up against the bedpost. The blanket slipped slightly, and she quickly grasped it to shield herself. Her hair was tousled, her face drowsy, her voice laced with sleep. "Who could that be?"

Rafael chuckled darkly. "Whoever bangs on a door like that? My guess—it's either a loan shark or your father."

Her sleepy expression turned into an immediate glare, and she twisted his ear without warning. "Don't joke like that! My father isn't someone you can mess with!"

"Ow, ow, ow! Alright, alright, I'm sorry, baby!" He yelped, prying her fingers away. Sitting up cross-legged, he rubbed his ear with a dramatic pout.

"Go answer the door," she said, throwing him a pointed look.

"Why? If we stay quiet, they'll go away." He leaned in, attempting to steal a kiss, but she shoved his face away, tightening the blanket around herself.

"Ugh, no. Your breath stinks."

"Come on, just one kiss..." He jutted out his bottom lip, making a ridiculous pout before smacking his lips together with an exaggerated sucking noise.

"Absolutely not!" She shuddered, shoving his face away again.

The banging continued.

They sat in silence, waiting. A minute passed. Then another. Slowly, the knocking died down, and Rafael grinned triumphantly. "See? Whoever it was got tired and left. Good. No one's going to disturb us."

He leaned in again, aiming for another kiss, but Arabella was quick, dodging every attempt.

"Stop it! That's enough. Last night, you didn't stop until—" She froze, her cheeks turning crimson as she quickly looked away.

Rafael smirked. "The banana split..." he teased.

"Shut up!" She huffed, gathering the blanket as she slid off the bed. The moment her feet hit the floor, her knees wobbled, and she stumbled slightly.

"Baby, careful!" Rafael lunged from the bed, catching her by the waist.

"I... I..." she stammered, leaning against him for support.

"Legs feel weak, huh?" His voice was thick with amusement.

She turned even redder. "Shut up."

"I mean, you know... sore?"

"I said shut up!" She shoved away from him, hobbling toward the bathroom, ignoring his deep chuckle as she disappeared inside.

Closing the door behind her, she placed both hands on her cheeks. They were burning. Damn him. She hated how he made her feel—how every touch, every kiss sent tingles down her spine. He was impossible. Shameless. Everything about him was scandalous.

She stared at her reflection. How was she supposed to keep running from this? Every weekend, it was the same. A reckless, heated affair that left her breathless. If her father ever found out, hell would break loose.

And worse—Rafael hadn't used protection. Again.

Her stomach twisted. The thought of pregnancy terrified her. If she ever had a child, she wanted it to be with a man she loved, someone who cherished her—not a man who only sought her for pleasure. It was their third time together, yet she knew nothing about him. He had skipped introductions, ignored formalities. He took what he wanted, and she... let him.

She hated him. Hated how inconsiderate he was. Hated how her body betrayed her. Hated that he made no effort to win her heart, because deep down, she knew—he wasn't interested. Rafael was a womanizer. A selfish, arrogant, maddening man.

Outside, Rafael casually fixed the sheets, fluffing the pillows before grabbing the blanket she had dropped on the floor. He threw on a T-shirt and shorts, rolling his shoulders lazily. The knocking had stopped, and honestly, he didn't care who had been at the door. This weekend belonged to Arabella and no one else.

Even if the Grim Reaper himself had been standing outside, Rafael wouldn't have moved.

Smirking to himself, he let his thoughts drift back to last night—the way she had moaned his name, how her body had melted under his touch—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The knocking returned, louder than before.

Rafael grunted, raking a hand through his hair. Who the hell had the audacity to come back?

With a growl of irritation, he strode toward the door and yanked it open—only for a girl to fling herself into his arms, giggling.

Arabella, still in the bathroom, had no idea what awaited her when she comes out.

***

"I intend to irritate you with my loud knocking!" A woman's voice, teasing, familiar, rang through the door.

His stomach dropped.

Blair Thompson.

His fingers instinctively curled around Arabella's discarded towel on the floor. Damn it. Of all the days she could have chosen to reappear, it had to be today?

With a barely composed breath, he yanked the towel around his waist and rushed to the door.

"Blair," he exhaled, forcing an uneasy smile. "When did you get back?"

"Yesterday," she beamed, stepping forward—too close, her arms snaking around his waist. The scent of her perfume, something citrusy and bright, filled his nostrils. It was the kind of embrace he used to melt into. But now? He barely resisted the urge to pry her off.

"I came straight to see you. But..." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Is someone in the shower? I hear the water running."

Rafael stiffened. "Uh—no! That's just—I left it running. Was about to take a shower."

Blair's lips curled in a knowing smirk. "Perfect! Let's shower together."

"No!" His voice cracked, too forceful, too obvious. He scrambled, correcting, softer this time. "I mean... not today. I, uh, want to be quick. You sit. Watch TV."

Before she could object, he caught her wrist, leading her to the sofa with forced ease. He pressed the remote into her palm and turned on the television.

Blair pouted but relented. "Fine. But hurry."

"Fast as lightning," he promised with a nervous chuckle, turning away the second she glanced at the screen. His heart slammed against his ribs as he strode to the closet, digging frantically through pockets. There—his fingers closed around the bathroom key.

In an instant, he was unlocking the door, slipping inside, shutting it behind him with a quiet but desperate thud.

Arabella stood behind the steamed glass, her silhouette hazy yet unmistakable. A slow burn curled in his gut. Damn it.

He slid the glass open, and she spun, water cascading down her body.

Her shriek split the air. "You liar! You said you lost the key!"

"Shhh!" He slapped a wet hand over her mouth. His other hand twisted the shower knob, silencing the rush of water. He was drenched now, chest heaving, every inch of him tense. And she—

Hell. He didn't need to look. He felt her. The warmth of her bare skin only inches away.

Arabella's eyes flared with fury. She bit his palm, hard. Rafael yanked his hand back, muffling a curse.

"Get out, you pervert!" she hissed, shoving him.

He barely stumbled before catching himself. "I can't."

She gawked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Blair's out there."

Her glare sharpened. "Who the hell is Blair?"

"My fiancée."

Arabella went deathly still.

"Your what?"

"Shhh, baby, not so loud—"

Smack.

The slap sent his head snapping to the side, the sting burning into his cheek. He exhaled, stunned, then slowly turned back to find her facing away, arms wrapped around herself, spine rigid.

He sighed. "Look, you have to go. If she sees you—"

"Oh, if she sees me?" Arabella spun to face him, eyes dark with betrayal. "Then she'll know what a cheating, lying, disgusting excuse of a man you are?"

His jaw tensed. "Arabella—"

"I'm not hiding." Her voice was steel. "I didn't do anything wrong. You did."

"Shhh!" He caught her wrist as she moved to grab the door handle. "Listen, I—I'll signal when it's safe, okay?"

She ripped her arm away. "No."

He swallowed hard. "Arabella—"

"Take off your clothes."

Rafael blinked, caught so off guard his lips parted without words. Then a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Baby, are you sure? I thought you were tired from last night."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes. "My clothes are in your closet, and all I have is this damn towel. What, you expect me to parade half-naked through your apartment?"

"Oh." His smirk faltered. "Right."

"Exactly. Now strip."

He hesitated. "But my clothes are in the closet—"

"Then wear the towel."

He exhaled sharply. "Arabella—"

She crossed her arms. "Fine. I'll walk out like this."

"Alright! Alright." He ran a hand through his wet hair. "Damn it."

With a muttered curse, he yanked off his clothes, handing them over. Arabella didn't hesitate, shimmying into them. Meanwhile, he stood, bare, watching her. She looked...

No. He couldn't think about that now.

She turned, catching him staring. "Stop looking at me. Open the door."

His throat bobbed as he reached for the handle.

This was going to be a disaster.

Rafael couldn't look away. She was utterly, maddeningly sexy—dressed in his t-shirt and shorts that sat too loose on her hips. With an easy flick of her fingers, she overlapped the waistband, tightening the fabric snugly against her curves. When she finished, she lifted her gaze and caught him staring.

At her apples.

She was braless beneath that soaked t-shirt, the damp fabric clinging in ways that made his throat go dry.

"I... I want some apples," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing!" He jerked his head, forcing his mind back to the present, to the more pressing issue at hand. With a sharp inhale, he slid the glass door open, stepping out of the shower to grab a towel from the sink. Wrapping it low around his waist, he threw a quick glance at Arabella, who trailed close behind.

His pulse kicked up a notch as he opened the bathroom door just a crack, poking his head out. Blair was still there, her back turned, utterly engrossed in Saturday morning news. The volume was up loud—thank God for small mercies.

Holding his breath, he tiptoed forward, each step measured and deliberate. His eyes stayed glued to Blair's form, willing her not to turn around. Slowly, carefully, he reached for the doorknob, easing it open—

And then his wet feet betrayed him.

His foot slipped out from under him, and he went down hard. Pain shot through his hip as he barely muffled his own groan, biting his lip to keep from cursing.

"Rafael!" Arabella's whisper was sharp, her head poking out the door, eyes wide with alarm.

He hissed through his teeth, waving frantically. "Come on!"

With hesitant steps, Arabella slipped from the bathroom, keeping her gaze locked on Blair's turned back. Her thoughts, however, were spinning elsewhere. What kind of woman was this Blair? Was she beautiful? More so than her? And more importantly—what kind of woman was willing to marry this perverted, shameless man?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Without realizing it, she slowed, then stopped altogether, fuming as she glared daggers at Rafael.

Rafael's face twisted in frustration as he gestured wildly for her to keep moving. But she stood her ground, arms crossed defiantly. He had no choice—he marched over, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her firmly toward the door.

They slipped out into the hallway, Rafael turning back to close the door with agonizing care. When it clicked shut, he exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his chest to calm his racing heart.

Arabella watched the movement with pure, seething fury.

"Well, congratulations," she bit out, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hope you're thrilled that I managed to sneak out of your condo without alerting your precious fiancée."

She turned sharply on her heel, marching toward the elevator.

"Baby, wait!" Rafael caught up with her quickly, stopping beside her just in front of the elevator doors.

"What do you want?" she snapped, arms still folded tightly.

"Let me take you home."

"I can take care of myself."

Rafael sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I'll pick you up tomorrow."

She scoffed. "No need. You have a fiancée now."

His jaw clenched. "But I still have one more night with you."

Arabella recoiled, eyes flashing with outrage. "What?! You pig! One woman isn't enough for you?"

"Baby—listen—"

The elevator doors slid open, revealing two elderly women, already inside. As Rafael and Arabella stepped in, the women's eyes widened in horror. A half-naked man in nothing but a towel had just joined them.

Slowly, they edged toward the elevator's corner, clutching their purses as if the mere act might shield them from impending doom. Their wrinkled hands gripped each other tightly, whispering silent prayers, dreading the moment that towel might slip.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it," Arabella muttered, stabbing the down button with a bit too much force.

Rafael leaned toward her, undeterred. "Baby, it's two nights a week, not one. I'll pick you up at seven in the morning, okay?"

Arabella whirled to face him, eyes ablaze. "You're seriously thinking about this while your fiancée is at your condo as we speak?"

"Well... it's hard."

The elderly women gasped in unison, shrinking further into the corner. Hard? Did he just say hard? Their trembling intensified as worst-case scenarios played in their minds.

"What's so hard?" Arabella challenged, her voice rising.

"It's hard."

"How hard is it?!"

"Baby, it's very hard!"

A shrill scream pierced the air as the elderly women clutched each other, sheer terror evident in their faces. At that precise moment, the elevator doors opened, and they bolted out, their frail forms moving faster than anyone would have thought possible.

Rafael and Arabella stared after them, momentarily dumbfounded. Then, as if nothing had happened, they stepped into the lobby and continued their argument.

"What's so hard about dropping this two-nights-a-week nonsense? How selfish can you be?"

"It's hard to forget about you."

"Then try harder!"

Her voice echoed across the lobby, drawing amused glances from onlookers. Snickers and whispers followed them. Arabella flushed when she finally registered Rafael's current state—barefoot, damp, and wearing nothing but a precariously wrapped towel.

Then, the two elderly women returned, now accompanied by a stern-looking security guard. They pointed directly at Rafael, whispering urgently in the man's ear.

The security guard nodded solemnly before marching toward them. Without preamble, he grabbed Rafael's arm, his expression resolute. "Sir, you need to come with me."

"Wait—this is a misunderstanding!" Rafael protested, trying to pull back, but the guard wasn't having any of it.

Arabella watched, torn between amusement and mortification, as Rafael was dragged away. Shaking her head, she hailed a taxi and climbed in. But as the city streets blurred past, unease settled in her chest.

Something about all of this felt... wrong.

Her thoughts wandered to Blair. Did she have any idea what kind of man she was engaged to? That jerk! How many innocent women had fallen victim to his charm? The thought made her stomach twist.

Then, memories of Louis surfaced—the man who had broken her heart. She had trusted him, thought they understood each other. And yet, he had cheated on her. Just like Rafael.

Men were selfish.

The only man she'd ever known to love with unwavering devotion was her father. Even after twenty-five years of marriage, he adored his wife like the day they first met. If he were here right now—

Well, Rafael would probably be dead.