White Lies and Wine.
Raul’s POV
I sat on the kitchen island in nothing but a pair of gray shorts, my glass of wine slowly warming between my fingers.
The dim lights cast a soft glow across the counter, the silence of the condo pressing into my temples like a balm… until my phone rang. Her name lit up the screen like a migraine: Catalina.
I let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times. Then picked it up on the fourth out of nothing but tired obligation.
“Hey baby, I’ve been calling you.”
Of course you have.
“I was in the bathroom,” I muttered, flat and disinterested.
“So, you coming home today?”
I clicked my tongue, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No, Catalina. I’ve got work.”
She scoffed, loud and exaggerated. “You just had three days of shooting, and now you still want to work? Or is it that you just don’t want to spend time with me?”
My jaw clenched. My patience was paper-thin.
“Catalina, you and I both know my companies run fine without me lifting a damn finger. But you also know how I am. Why are you being dramatic?”
“But you’re the boss, Raul. You can choose not to work. Please, baby. I just want to spend time with my husband—is that too much to ask?”
Her voice was soft, almost sweet. But I wasn’t fooled.
Because “spending time” with Catalina meant fake smiles at business dinners, her hand gripping mine like a leash in public, boring, self-serving sex where I was just a body, a trophy. There was no intimacy. No connection. Just performance.
I didn’t answer. I just said, “Good night,” and hung up. Tossed the phone face-down and silenced it.
That’s when I heard her.
“Mr. D’Amano…”
My head snapped toward the voice that had been haunting me for months. And there she was—Angel—standing in the doorway, looking softer than she had all day.
Her skin glowed faintly under the light, her curls messily tumbling down, her expression unsure.
“Angel,” I murmured, standing.
She was so small compared to me. So easy to pull into my world. So tempting.
“T-thank you so much, Mr. D’Amano, I’ll just go—”
“You’re staying here, Caramella,” I cut her off gently but firmly.
She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parting again with another one of her buts.
“Do you always have to argue, tesoro?” I arched a brow at her. She went quiet.
Good girl.
I took her hand, her soft, warm palm trembling slightly in mine, and led her to the island.
She tensed when I held her waist, and the way her body reacted to my touch made something animal stir inside me.
I lifted her onto the stool beside me and took my seat. We ate quietly for a while… until she spoke again.
“Mr. D’Amano—”
I let out a frustrated hiss, dropping my fork.
“Don’t call me that.”
She blinked at me, confused. “W–what?”
“Mr. D’Amano?” I repeated with a raised brow.
“It’s Raul. Call me Raul, tesoro.”
Her lips parted, caught off guard. I could already see her forming the usual excuse, so I cut her off before she could speak it into existence.
“Don’t even start with ‘but.’ I already know it’s coming.”
She bit her lower lip and gave a soft, embarrassed smile, and God help me, it did something dangerous to me.
Is it even fair to look that beautiful without trying?
She was sinfully gorgeous. Those dark gray eyes held a storm I wanted to drown in. Her silky brown skin glowed under the kitchen light, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Everything about her screamed temptation wrapped in innocence, and I’d never been good at resisting either.
“Don’t give me a reason, Angel. Just say my name. I want to hear it from you.”
She looked down, then back up, and nodded softly.
“…Raul.”
The sound of my name on her mouth nearly undid me. Blood surged to my groin like a damn tidal wave.
Fóllame.
(Fuck me)
The curse slipped past my lips in a desperate breath, and I didn’t wait. I gripped the back of her neck and pulled her to me, crashing my mouth onto hers.
Her lips—soft, warm, addictive—melted into mine like honey set on fire.
My hands found her thighs, gripping them firmly as I deepened the kiss. She whimpered into my mouth, her fingers curling into my hair, tugging gently.
She gave in.
I pressed her against the table, her leg wrapping around my waist like she belonged there. My cock throbbed against her core through the fabric, and I growled into her neck, tasting her skin.
“Raul…” she moaned, and I lost control.
I kissed a path down her throat, her chocolate scent wrapping around me like a noose. She tasted even better—like a sin I was born to commit.
Her back arched, her breath ragged, and the way she moaned my name made me want to wreck her right here, right now.
I’d waited long enough.
And I wasn’t waiting another second.