Chapter 9

I stand on the terrace, leaning on the barrier wall. The city is spread out down below, a mesh of lights I can follow all the way down to the harbour. The air is still warm even at this late hour.

I hear a sound behind me but don’t turn around, simply sensing the presence next to me. I catch a hint of citrus and vanilla—it’s Rafe.

“Constantin painted a vivid picture, didn’t he? Do you think you’re missing out, not having experienced love?”

“I haven’t really thought about it much before. I’ve always considered it a lofty notion.”

“Don’t you think everyone deserves love?” he says, his expression almost pitiful. I think of my father.

“No, not everyone. I can think of plenty of people who don’t deserve such happiness,” I scoff, but he doesn’t smile.

“Is love happiness?” he muses, as if asking himself the question. “It seems much more visceral than the lightness of merely being happy.”

“Exactly, an emotion for the thinkers, those who take life seriously. I’ve never allowed myself to get close enough to anyone to believe love could be a possibility.”

“Don’t you think you deserve love?” He turns his gaze on me.

I shrug. “I don’t get that luxury.”

His brows furrow like I’ve just said the saddest thing he’s ever heard.

“Why not? What if Estrella’s right and you don’t get to choose?”

“I’ll just make sure that never happens,” I say blithely, and look away until I can no longer feel his gaze on me.

I steal a look at him instead as he stares out over the city. There’s something about the set of his jaw that’s different. It’s harder, like he’s grappling with an inner demon.

“What about you? You said you’ve never been in love, are you missing out?” I throw his own question back at him.

He doesn’t answer for so long that I think he hasn’t heard me, so it’s a surprise when he does speak.

“Just before I came here tonight, I received some news that made me rethink the last two years of my life. Along with Constantin’s portrayal of an emotion I thought I knew, but now realise I have no concept of. I feel adrift right now, not sure what’s real or not, and I don’t know where I’m going. I feel like I’m travelling, but I have no destination and no map to guide me.”

“You know the greatest adventures can be found that way.”

His smile is wistful as he looks at me.

“You don’t need to decide what your future is, just what you want to happen next,” I add, surprising myself with a rather insightful remark. Maybe keeping the company of Rafe and Constantin is having an effect on me.

He looks at me for a second before turning his head back to gaze over the city lights. I watch him. There’s a lightness to his face that wasn’t there before, like he’s cast off a heavy weight. The small amount of light shows the shape of his jaw and picks up some highlights in his hair, making it appear golden. He looks timeless, like the surroundings. He’s also one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. I want to kiss those cupid’s-bow lips. I want to know if they’re as soft as they look. I wonder what they taste like.

Instead, I force myself to remember that he’s just been through a breakup. There’s also the small detail that he’s straight, of course, but that doesn’t make me want to kiss him less. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Usually, my hookups are brief and for fun. An unspoken agreement that it’s fleeting.

But I’m a long way from home and Rafe isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. I don’t want a hookup, I don’t want to treat him that way. I push the desire down deep inside because it’s never going to happen. I’ve just confessed as much.

The sound of a piano drifts through the air from the room behind us. It must be Constantin playing the grand in the ballroom. Rafe’s face brightens at the sound of it, and he turns towards me, his eyes alight.

I swallow down the increased need to cup a hand to his cheek and touch my lips to his. Wow, that sounds a lot like romance. The thought that I could feel that way nearly bubbles up, but allowing it to erupt would spoil the moment. I can’t kiss him, so instead I ask.

“Would you like to dance?”

His mouth twitches slightly, no doubt remembering the previous time I asked him the same question .

“I don’t know how.” His voice is a husky whisper that sends shivers down my spine.

“I can teach you.”