Page 30 of Bind Me
Within seconds the men were deep in it, talking over one another about penalties and tire strategy. Lillian didn’t add another word, but she listened as if she’d been invited into something sacred. Bea exhaled, grateful for the interruption, even as part of her wondered how far up Rafael would’ve taken her skirt if no one had.
That’s when the past walked in wearing cream silk and certainty. Catherine Vale.
Their eyes met. Catherine didn’t flinch, but Bea caught the glitch in her gait. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her around, but they’d given each other a wide berth. So it surprised her when, instead of ignoring her, Catherine came closer.
“Bea.” Cool, composed. “Congratulations.”
Bea’s grip tightened on her glass. Two years wasn’t enough to rid her of the fight-or-flight impulse whenever this particular socialite was near. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been well?” As if they were old classmates.
Seriously? Were they doing small talk now?
“A lot’s changed since the vineyard,” Bea said, steady as she could manage.
Catherine’s smile faltered. “Yes. I never got the chance to…explain.”
Bea stiffened—and that was all it took. Rafael turned. He had been midsentence with Max, but now his full focus landed on Bea. Then past her.
“Catherine,” he said, unimpressed. Like the name itself tasted expired. The F1 conversation dimmed.
“Rafael.” Her smile refreshed like a screen reload. “The ring you chose is stunning. You’ve always had good taste.”
He picked up his drink. Took a slow sip. Let her wait.
Then: “In women, or in jewelry?”
Catherine’s laugh came out a touch forced. “Both.”
“I agree.” His hand came out of hiding, slipped over Bea’s shoulders. “I didn’t collect either by accident. Or asprojects.”
Something passed through Catherine’s expression. Not guilt, not quite shame. She turned to Bea again. “That time. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Bea’s spine straightened against the chair. “It felt pretty intentional.”
Forks paused. Not a soul missed a word.
Catherine looked away, then back. A tiny nod. The nod of a woman who knew she’d lost the room. “I’ll leave you to your lunch.”
RAFAEL
It didn’t matter if a house had a private whisky library, a cigar humidor, or a sauna made of petrified wood from Patagonia. They always found the table with green felt.
Rafael lined up the shot and sent the eight home.
Max exhaled. “That’s game.”
Hunter rubbed his jaw. “That’s three in a row.”
“Two and a warm-up,” Charles corrected, resetting the rack. “You were playing like a drunk Labrador for the first half hour.”
It had been a good day; better than expected. Bea was touching him again without thinking about it first. Her smile wasn’t guarded. He could still picture the outline of her legs as she’d crossed them beside him at dinner.
He wanted to be up in their bedroom, in bed with her, alone. But the girls were getting massages, so he was here.
Rafael chalked his cue. In the corner, Laurent was sprawled back in an armchair with a drink balanced on his chest.
“Madeleine still camped outside your gate?” Rafael asked.
