Chapter 9
-Raf-
While temporarily forgetting Colton’s contract for the rest of the afternoon, it plagued me into the night. I thought about it from every angle, and while I’d touched the nib of my pen to the dotted line multiple times over the last hour, I still couldn’t bring myself to sign the fucking thing.
I wanted to do this for Colt, but it meant punishing myself in the process. And I didn’t mean with Boss Lady.
The ghosts of my childhood needed to stay hidden and buried. I’d managed to shirk the subject during Greer’s grilling about my past. As far as I was concerned, my past was exactly where it needed to be—locked in the place calledwe don’t talk about that shit.
As a kid, I endured the destruction that the wrong kind of ‘love’ created. I had witnessed a man destroy all that he was meant to protect in his life, all because of blind rage and jealousy.My father.
He was the reason our family got torn apart. The reason my sister was fucked up. The entire reason why my mother hadn’t spoken properly in years. And also why I never let a woman get close. The fear of following in my father’s footsteps was enough to stop me wanting a lifelong partner and family of my own.
Wincing and letting my top lip curl with the haunting memory, I tipped back the last mouthful of lager from the bottle between my fingertips, then set it down on the coffee table.
I was happy with my life. Happy doing what I loved, both on and off the streets. I didn’t have an obligation to Colton to accept the foundation proposal, but I at least owed him a chance. He was a picky son-of-a-bitch, and he’d invited me onboard because I was hands-down the best man for the job.
With that in mind, I snatched up the pen and hissed, “Fuck,” as I hovered the ballpoint over the signature line again. “This better not come back to bite me on the ass,” I muttered, and savagely scrawled my signature.
A weight was lifted, yet another bore down. Conflicted feelings pulled me in both directions until the thought of one woman grounded me dead in the center.Mamacita.
I snorted and ran a hand down my face, still in disbelief over the coincidences that had brought us into each other’s orbit. Her into my world, and me into hers. It was almost as if fate…
Nah, fuck that. I quashed that thought as fast as it arose. She could only ever be a fun time, not a lifetime. Rafael Ortiz was no mamacita’s bitch boy.
My phone screen lit with Colton’s name, and I accepted his call. “Yo.”
“Hey. Is now a good time?”
“Yeah, I mean, I should be searching for a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California SWB Spider, but shit, why the hell not talk to you.”
Colton scoffed. “Fuck, when you put it like that.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
“Tough car to find, brother.”
“You’re telling me. Cars like those take months to find, at best.” I leaned back against the couch cushions and set my ankle on the opposite knee, jiggling my foot impatiently. “I signed the contract.”
“Didn’t doubt you would. Is it with your attorney yet?”
“Tomorrow.” I sighed. “I do have one concern.”
“Which is?” he asked, in a darkening tone. “If it’s Greer, then-”
“It’s not her,” I cursed, reminding myself to keep it together. “Well, not directly. It’s my history, Colt. Shit like that sticks, and if word gets out…”
Colton hummed in agreement. “I get it, I really fucking do. What exactly are you referring to?”
Bile climbed up my throat, surfacing with the memories I never talked about. While Colton knew me during our late teenage years, he didn’t know what came before that. Just like I didn’t know how deep his own demons ran. Where he never talked about his mother, I never talked about my father. It was too fucked up.
“Doesn’t matter.” Unable to withstand the physical and psychological effect my actions still had on me, I cleared my throat and popped the cap off another beer. “Enough about that,” I said gruffly, before taking a long pull from the bottle.
Colton cleared his throat and spoke with renewed optimism. “So, any talent out there?”
“Bro,” I deadpanned. “You’re fuckingtalkingto it.”
His burst of laughter came through the phone. “You’re still a cocky son of a bitch, Raffie.”