They took the long way back to the flat. No escort. No chase. Only a city at lunch pretending it has always known how to behave. Emilia kept her hand in Rafael’s pocket, fingers curled around his. He carried the quiet with the same care he carries a room.
“You were beautiful,” he said finally, and she felt the truth in it. Not about the cameras. About that one clean sentence she had given the steps.
“I was hungry,” she said.
“For what.”
“For simple,” she said. “For you. For this to be boring.”
He laughed under his breath. “You and your boring.”
“I like work that doesn’t bleed,” she said. “I like an afternoon where I can touch you without checking the window.”
He stopped them in the shade of a plane tree and touched his forehead to hers. Street sounds blurred. He held her face in his
