Rafael didn’t look at him. His jaw was locked, his mind made up. “If people think she’s my weakness, then I would rather have her where I can control the situation.”
Mason shook his head, stepping in front of him. “That’s not control, Rafael. That’s attachment.”
Rafael’s grip on his keys tightened, his eyes flashing with warning. “I don’t get attached.”
Mason scoffed, unconvinced. “Then what the hell do you call this?”
Rafael didn’t answer. Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure himself.
Mason drove, following Rafael's description.
Meanwhile, Celia sat in her living room, lost in thought. She kept trying to justify the money she received, convincing herself it was a good thing, but deep down, it still unsettled her.
She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but all she
