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."

Her hands flew to her mouth, a muffled gasp escaping her as she processed the weight of his words. "He could bomb my house, couldn't he?"

Rafael tilted his head, considering the possibility. His voice remained unnervingly calm. "Well... yeah."

Arabella staggered back, her breath shallow. She began to pace, her thoughts churning too quickly for her to keep up. "This is bad. This is really bad. I should pack my things and leave for Paris right now."

"No," Rafael said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached out, grabbing her arm before she could make a move toward the stairs. "If you leave the country, the police might think you're running. You'll look guilty."

Arabella froze, her body tense with sudden realization. She stared at him, the room around them blurring as she processed his words. "You're right," she whispered, her voice brittle. "What should I do then?"

Rafael shrugged nonchalantly, but the glint in his eyes was sharp. Dangerous. "Come live with me."

Arabella recoiled, her face twisting with disgust and disbelief. "I knew it! You just want to start your sleazy deal before Dante's even arrested. No way! I'll stay with a friend instead."

"And get their house bombed?" Rafael countered, raising an eyebrow. "Listen, it's only for a few days. The safest place is the last place Dante would expect."

Arabella's anger flared, her voice climbing in pitch. "Shut up! You're scaring me!"

Rafael let her words hang in the air, watching her as she wrestled with the fear and logic battling inside her. "Suit yourself," he said with a casual shrug, standing and heading for the door. His footsteps echoed in the quiet house, his body already halfway to the threshold. "I can always tell the cops you were in on it. After all, you did sign all those documents..."

Arabella's eyes shot daggers at him, her glare as sharp as any weapon. "You... you're unbelievable!" The words caught in her throat, but she knew she was cornered. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the knowledge that he held the cards left her feeling helpless. Damn him.

"Fine!" she spat, her voice laced with reluctant fury. "I'll go. Wait here."

She stormed upstairs, her footsteps like thunder as she slammed her bedroom door behind her. The sound echoed through the house, sharp and final. Rafael smirked, the satisfaction of the moment settling over him like a warm blanket. This was only the beginning.

Upstairs, Arabella yanked open her closet with a force that might've broken the doors had they not been built to withstand the chaos of her life. She pulled out clothes with a single-minded determination, tossing them onto the bed in reckless heaps. Dresses, jeans, shirts-all were discarded like forgotten thoughts. There was no time to organize, no time to care about the state of her closet or the neatness of her packing.

Her mind was racing, and her movements were frenzied. Clothes? Check. Hair supplies? Check. But if she was going to live under the same roof as Rafael-that man, the one who had managed to worm his way into her life against her better judgment-she needed more than just a few days' worth of outfits. She needed protection.

Her gaze darted to the bedside drawer, the one place where she kept her defenses-tucked away from the world like secrets too dangerous to speak aloud. She tugged the drawer open with a harsh tug, her fingers closing around the cool metal of her pepper spray. It slid into her bag, the small bottle feeling insignificant but important.

Next, she reached for something heavier. Her metal knuckles. A relic from a self-defense class she'd taken on a whim years ago. They were a reminder of her own strength-something she hadn't needed often, but something that would serve her well now. She shoved them into the suitcase, the cold weight of them a small comfort.

Her eyes flicked over to the nightstand, where a fork from last night's late-night snack sat abandoned, still sticky with remnants of strawberry Jell-O. A small laugh bubbled up in her throat-how ridiculous. But then again, it was sharp enough to do damage, and it had the added bonus of looking completely innocent. She grabbed it, tucking it into her back pocket with a grim determination.

"If he so much as thinks about laying a finger on me," she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing with cold fury, "this fork is going straight for his eye." The thought was satisfying in a way she couldn't fully explain.

With a determined yank, she zipped her suitcase shut, the sound of the zipper slicing through the air like a verdict. One last look around her room-her sanctuary. The place where she had once felt safe. And now, she was about to walk away from it. To step out of her comfort zone, out of the world she knew, and into the lion's den.

It felt surreal. Yet she was doing it, because there was no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and trudged down the stairs. The weight of her suitcase felt like a chain, each step heavy with the knowledge of what awaited her on the other side of the door.

Arabella's feet felt heavy as she descended the stairs, dragging her suitcase behind her like a ball and chain. Each step seemed to echo in the quiet house, her movements slow and reluctant, as though the very air was resisting the absurdity of what she was about to do. Moving in with Rafael. A man she barely knew, a man who, with his sharp jawline and shadowed eyes, looked suspiciously like a fugitive from America's Most Wanted. And yet, here she was-about to give him access to her life in a way she never thought she would.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and paused in the entryway, taking in the sight of Mia, her loyal housekeeper, tidying the spot where she had spent countless mornings sipping coffee, pondering life's little challenges.

"Mia," Arabella said, her voice shaking slightly as she gathered her composure. "I'll be out of town for the next couple of days. If my parents ask, just tell them it's a business trip."

Mia's back was turned as she dusted the antique console table by the door, but she turned at the sound of Arabella's voice. With a polite nod, she replied, "Yes, Miss." Her expression was kind, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes that Arabella couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was pity, or maybe just concern. Either way, it only made Arabella feel worse.

Arabella hesitated, her gaze drifting to the goldfish tank on the shelf. A bubble popped in the water. "Oh, and feed my goldfish, okay?" she asked, her tone tight, as if she needed to remind herself more than Mia.

"Yes, Miss."

"And my turtle," she added absently, as if the turtle might somehow escape its glass tank in her absence.

"Yes, Miss," Mia said with a weary but affectionate smile, cutting her off before she could continue.

Arabella smiled back, though it felt more like a grimace. "And-"

Mia shook her head gently, still smiling. "I'll take care of everything, Miss Arabella. You don't need to worry."

A strange mix of gratitude and mortification settled in Arabella's chest. The woman had been with her family for years. She had seen Arabella through every small crisis, every tantrum, and every difficult moment. And now, here she was, leaving all of that behind.

Arabella forced a nod, though it didn't feel convincing even to herself.

Rafael standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, as if he owned the place. His smirk was back, that annoyingly smug look that made her want to claw it right off his face. He watched her, an unreadable glint in his eyes.

"Ready, baby?" he asked, his tone light, teasing-mocking. The word "baby" hung in the air, grating against her nerves like sandpaper.

Arabella's blood boiled. She set the suitcase down with a thud, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Call me baby one more time, and this suitcase will be the least of your worries," she snapped, her voice low and dangerous.

Rafael's smirk only deepened. He chuckled softly, pushing the door open with exaggerated politeness. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that."

She didn't acknowledge him, just glared as she grabbed the handle of her suitcase with a suddenly desperate determination, and marched past him, barely sparing him a glance. His mocking tone lingered in the air, but she couldn't afford to let it get to her. If she survived this, she promised herself, he won't.

The thought was dark and satisfying-far more satisfying than anything that had come before.

Outside, the cool morning air greeted her, a stark contrast to the furnace-like heat of her own mind. Rafael, that damn man, was striding ahead with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, utterly unconcerned by the weight of the situation. The weight of her suitcase clattered behind her on the cobblestones with a sound that seemed to mock her own unease.

What a gentleman, she thought sourly, watching him from the corner of her eye. She could already feel the stirrings of irritation crawling beneath her skin. He was moving with all the confidence of someone who already knew how this would play out. While she struggled with her luggage, he barely gave her a glance, not even offering to help.

Just as they reached the gate, a screeching sound broke through her thoughts. A car tore up to the curb, its tires screeching in protest as it skidded to a stop. The window rolled down with dramatic flair, and there, leaning out in all his glory, was Levi.

Arabella froze, her stomach doing an ungraceful somersault. Levi's eyes were wide, and his mouth formed an exaggerated "O" as he took in the scene. "Arabella! Don't tell me you're eloping with the CEO!" he shouted, his voice laced with scandalized amusement. His eyes bounced between her flushed face and the suitcase she was dragging behind her like a confession.

Eloping? Arabella felt the heat rise in her cheeks. The last thing she needed was that rumor to spread. She snapped, her voice sharp and defensive, "Of course not!"

Rafael, who had been standing in an unbothered state of ease, seized the opportunity to add his own smooth commentary. "She's moving in with me," he said, voice gliding with that same disarming charm he was far too skilled at using. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he bent down and lifted her suitcase with frustrating ease, like it was made of tissue paper, and reached for her arm to escort her to the car.

Arabella jerked her arm away before his fingers could close around her. "Don't touch me!" she hissed, stepping back as though his hand was a live wire she needed to avoid. She fought to maintain her dignity, even as he leaned in with that cocky grin of his.

Levi gawked, his face a study in disbelief as Rafael's hand brushed off her protests. Rafael moved with the kind of self-assurance that made Arabella want to scream. With one effortless tug, he was guiding her across the street toward his sleek Porsche, her feet dragging with every step. She could feel Levi's eyes boring into her back, the confusion and concern on his face almost palpable.

"Are you really going through with this?" Levi muttered to himself, shaking his head. "What the hell is going on?" His words hung in the air long after the car roared to life, its engine revving like a predator on the prowl.

Arabella glanced over her shoulder as Rafael yanked open the passenger side door for her. She wrestled for a moment with the door handle, her mind swarming with a million contradictory thoughts, but finally, she slid into the seat, settling into the cold leather as the door slammed shut behind her.

And there she was-sitting beside the man who, despite everything, still felt like a stranger-hurtling toward the unknown. What kind of madness was this?

Levi was left standing by the curb, mouth agape, hands still in mid-motion from scratching his head. He watched as Rafael's car tore off down the street, the wheels leaving a faint squeal behind, and Arabella, for all the world, seemed to vanish into the dust.