Chapter 3

3.

He scooped her up and walked out. Serafina called his name behind them. He didn't look back.

At the villa, he found her medicine. He made her a bowl of hot soup.

She watched him rush around, and the weight of it pressed against her chest.

He used to be the rich young master who'd never lifted a finger. She came into his life, and he stepped off his pedestal. He washed her clothes, cooked her meals, handled everything in the house.

When she lost her hearing, he learned to sign. Just to speak to her.

His friends always laughed at him. Whipped. Tamed. He didn't care. He wore it like a badge of honor. His woman deserved to be cherished. It made him proud.

After the stomach problems started, he researched every bland recipe he could find. He didn't trust the housekeeper. He cooked all three meals himself. He swore he'd nurse her back to health.

He had loved her that deeply. Down to the marrow. And now he was cheating behind her back.

Her chest ached. His love, it turned out, could change in a heartbeat.

She ate, then slept. When she woke, it was nearly eight.

Brandon was still at her side. Waiting. He saw her eyes open and immediately brought her a glass of warm water. He held it to her lips.

His phone rang.

"Fina, relax. I'm heading out. Be a good girl and stay just like that for me."

He turned his back. His voice had that edge of anticipation.

Raina's heart pinched. She didn't want to count how many times he'd played this part. The doting boyfriend one second. The eager plaything the next.

Who mattered more to him?

She wanted to know.

She caught his sleeve. "Brandon, stay with me tonight. Please?"

He smiled. Doting. He stroked her hair and signed, "Baby, be good. Something urgent came up at work. The client really needs me there. I'll be back as soon as I'm done. Text me if you need anything."

He put on his coat and left.

Cold sank through her.

There was a time when one word from her would make him drop everything. He'd walk away from a major deal just to be with her.

Now he'd dump her for another woman without a second thought.

Fine. She was done with him.

She found the number she hadn't called in a long time. Her birth parents. She dialed.

When the call ended, she opened her laptop. She studied maps of Europe, getting familiar with the place she'd soon call home.

Her phone rang. Brandon.

She stared at it. He hadn't called her since she went deaf. He always texted.

She picked up.

A moan spilled through the speaker. Breathy. Explicit.

"Brandon, who makes you feel better? Me or her?" Serafina's voice. Sugary.

"You. Obviously." Brandon's voice was thick with pleasure. No hesitation.

"I knew it. Didn't you say it yourself? She's a dead fish in bed. Zero fun."

"You're the only one for me. We fit."

"You insatiable little demon."

"Why do you keep bringing her up tonight―wait. Did you call Raina?!"

His voice spiked. Panic. Anger.

"She can't hear. This just makes it hotter, don't you think?"

The line died.

Raina's fingers whitened around the phone. She was under the blankets, but her body had never been so cold.

It was almost funny. The injury she'd taken for him had become their foreplay.

Brandon came home the next morning.

He leaned in for his usual good-morning kiss.

She turned away, smooth. The thought of his mouth on another woman last night sent a wave of nausea through her.

He blinked.

"You didn't change your clothes. You smell." She wrinkled her nose.

Sex and strong perfume. It made her stomach turn.

He caught himself and signed, "Late night at the office. I fell asleep at my desk. Must've bumped your number by accident."

Lying. About last night.

She didn't care anymore. She was leaving. No point in calling him out.

At the table, he'd bought her favorite. Crab eggs benedict.

She had no appetite.

The place was in the opposite direction from his office. But it was right near Serafina's apartment.

She'd seen Serafina's Instagram this morning.

A photo of the same dish. The caption: "He said he'd wait two hours for me. Anything I want."

Brandon had liked it.

People in the comments asked if the guy was her boyfriend. She'd replied with a coy little emoji.

One photo showed a man's hand feeding her. His face wasn't in the frame. But his fingers were long, a crescent-shaped scar on one of them.

Exactly like Brandon's.

He'd gotten it learning to cook for Raina. A burn.

"Not hungry? What do you want? I'll make it right now."

"At least have some milk. It'll settle your stomach."

He saw she wasn't eating and went to warm a glass for her.

"I'm not hungry. I'm going to the studio."

She brushed him off and called a car.

She'd loved to draw since she was a kid. After college, she opened her own art studio.

By noon, the last painting was done. She was leaving soon. The studio needed to go.

She pulled up a real estate agent's contact and sent a voice message. "I need to transfer my lease. I'm looking to sell the space. Before the end of the month."

Footsteps. She looked up.

Brandon stood in the doorway, brow furrowed. "Transfer? Why would you transfer it?"