“I do. I am sorry.”
Philippe reached up and touched his cheek and Rafe hated how unsteady he felt. “I forgive you, mon amour.”
“Don’t go.”
“I must.” He pulled his hand away as he stepped into the waiting elevator car. “Trust me, and remember that not all of us are as brave as you.”
The doors slid shut before Rafe could think of any kind of response, carrying Philippe away from him. Rafe took an unsteady step from the elevator, letting his back hit the wall. His legs gave out and he found himself sitting on the hallway floor, his robe pooled around him. His heart and mind battled over Philippe’s strange parting words and the feeling that he’d intentionally destroyed something very beautiful between them.
He ached. How could he have hurt Philippe? It wasn’t enough that Philippe had forgiven him. He had to do more, say more, to forever erase that pain he’d put in Philippe’s eyes. He said he trusted Philippe, but he still tried to force him to do something he didn’t want. He’d screwed up so royally.
And how was Philippe not brave? He protected his clan. He walked into another vampire’s territory, ready to do whatever it took to find his missing clan member. Of course he was brave.
What was Rafe supposed to do now? Would Philippe even speak to him again? Just the thought of never seeing Philippe again, never holding him again, threatened to knock the air out of his lungs.
He had to fix this. He had to convince Philippe that he truly did trust him and that he was worthy of Philippe’s trust. But for now, he had to wait. He’d already tried to force Philippe once. He had to wait and trust that Philippe would return to him.
Chapter Twelve
Rafe stood in his office overlooking the dance floor at Blush, a drink forgotten in his hand as he watched the revelers gyrating, grinding, and generally having a great time. Booze flowed like water over them, washing away inhibitions. Gideon, in his cage suspended above the DJ booth, appeared to be happy as he moved to the music.
The freedom and abandon usually tempted Rafe to leave his office and mingle with his paying customers. To forget about worries and family duties for a few hours.
But tonight, he wasn’t tempted in the slightest. He wasn’t thinking about his family, though.
His mind was still going back to Philippe. A passionate, graceful, and generous lover. He’d artfully brought Rafe to climax twice, and he seemed to do it with such ease. And then that smile when they lay in bed together. Laughter dancing in those moss-green eyes as they watched him. So happy and at peace. Lost to the moment.
And Rafe had stolen it away. Crushed out that light like a petulant child breaking a toy because he couldn’t have his way.
He couldn’t just be happy with the pleasure Philippe had given him.
But why had Philippe hidden himself from Rafe?
After the past several days, after getting fucking shot for Philippe, he thought something had grown between them. He thought Philippe trusted him.
Heels clacked loudly across the floor. Rafe didn’t need to turn to see that it was Lola entering his office. He’d felt her drawing closer from her usual spot near the bar. Ryder was still close to the entrance to the small backstage area and Gideon’s cage, his eyes trained on the partiers.
“Surprised to find you here,” she said by way of greeting.
He ignored her comment. He knew he’d been spending far more time with Philippe recently than dealing with the club or even his brothers. Lola knew where he’d been. She was just probing for details he didn’t want to share. “Any problems?”
Her heels were muffled on the soft, thick carpet in his office, but he could still hear her moving closer. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We have more vampires in this city who’ve never been to a Rafe Varik club, but they’ve been informed of the rules and consequences.”
Rafe turned his head enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. She was in a skin-tight black top that seemed to reveal more than it covered. Her black leather skirt stretched down to the ankles of her black boots but was slit up to midthigh, giving her freedom of movement. Sexy as always. And lethal. “Has there been an incident?”
She shook her head. “Not yet, but we’ve reduced the number of vamps allowed in the club at any time to fifteen instead of twenty.”
“Good.” Rafe turned his gaze back to the crowd below him. Lola didn’t need him to effectively run the club. She knew what to do. She had everything well in hand already.
“How goes things with the Arsenaults? Making progress?”
Rafe grunted and walked from the window to the desk. There was a scattering of opened mail from his assistant. Papers that he’d need to look over and sign. Most things were automated at this point. Humans hired to deal with the mundane bits of running a club. He had no interest in dealing with any of it now.