Primo Javier Sandoval: The Son of illegitimate Son

~~Sofia~~

"Talk about a bad kisser. I hope my first kiss isn't all saliva and chin."

I laugh so hard I nearly drop my towel. "I swear it doesn't even count as a first kiss. One more minute and I would have drowned in his spit."

Francesca cackles as she smooths her towel over the pool chair and flops down beside me. The sun is perfect today, warm without being cruel and I've been looking forward to this all week. I lean back, letting it wash over my face, finally relaxed.

"Well, if you want a do-over, I promise I've never gotten any complaints."

The voice comes from behind me.

I spin so fast I nearly fall off the chair. A man is standing at the far edge of the pool terrace, arms folded, watching us with an easy smile that doesn't quite match the sharpness in his eyes. He's tall. Dark. The kind of handsome that feels like a warning.

I didn't even hear him come in.

I sit up straighter and push the hair out of my face, my heart doing something stupid in my chest. "Um, excuse me. Who are you?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just pushes off the wall and walks toward me with the kind of unhurried confidence that makes it clear he's never had to rush for anything in his life. He stops just short of too close and holds out his hand.

"You first."

I stare at the hand for a beat longer than I should. Something about him makes me want to step back. I place my hand in his anyway. "I am Sofia Romano."

Something shifts in his expression. Just barely a flicker behind his eyes before the smile returns, smoother than before.

"I'm Rafael. My father has a meeting with the head of the Romano family."

The name lands like a stone in still water.

De Luca.

I pull my hand back and resist the urge to wipe it on my towel. Of all the days. Of all the people to walk through that door while I'm sitting here in nothing but a bikini, laughing about bad kisses.

"You're Rafael De Luca," I say, and it comes out quieter than I intend.

"In the flesh."

I shift closer to Francesca without meaning to. He notices. I can tell by the small curve of his mouth. I hate that he noticed.

Our families have hated each other for as long as I can remember. I've never been told exactly why. Just that the De Lucas are dangerous, that I am to stay away, that some conflicts run too deep for reason. Looking at him now, I think I finally understand what everyone means. It isn't the danger that's the problem.

It's that he doesn't look dangerous enough to avoid.

"Rafael," I say, because I need to say something, "why are you here?"

"You can only listen to two grown men argue for so long."

Francesca leans forward, completely unbothered, and looks him over with the shameless curiosity only a sixteen-year-old can get away with. "Ego will do that to you. Tell me, Rafael, do you have a big ego?"

"Francesca!"

He laughs and looks back at me. "When your sister finds out, I'll make sure she reports back." He winks.

Heat blooms up my neck before I can stop it. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but Enzo's voice cuts through the terrace.

"There you are."

I have never been so relieved to see my brother in my life.

Enzo looks between us with an expression I can't fully read. He nods at his sisters briefly, then turns to Rafael. "Sorry he intruded on you two. I'll take him away now."

"Boo." Francesca pouts. "He was just getting interesting."

"Trust me, he's boring." Enzo jerks his head toward the door. "Neither of our fathers might leave that study alive if we don't get in there soon."

Rafael holds my gaze for just a moment before turning to follow my brother. I tell myself I'm not watching him leave. I am absolutely watching him leave. Francesca's muffled giggles confirm that she's noticed.

"Not a word," I warn her.

She falls back against her chair, grinning at the sky. "I didn't say anything."

---

I towel off quickly and wrap myself before heading inside for the fruit i had promised Francisca to bring. The house is quiet in the way it only gets when Papa has company, everyone walking a little softer, speaking a little lower.

I pad down the hallway toward the kitchen, my hair still dripping, my mind still annoyingly full of dark eyes and an easy smile that knew too much.

I round the corner and walk directly into him.

He catches me by instinct, one hand at my arm and we both freeze. My towel shifts dangerously, and I grab for it with both hands, my face burning. The bikini top is already half-slipping from the wet fabric and I yank the towel up, exhaling a breath that comes out far more shaky than I would like.

"Jeez," I manage. "That was close."

He hasn't stepped back. He's just looking at me, something in his expression that makes the hallway feel suddenly very small.

"No," he says. "You look that good."

I mean to laugh it off. I do laugh but it catches in my throat when he takes a small step forward, close enough that I can feel the warmth coming off him. My back meets the wall and I don't remember moving.

"Why did you have to be outside the bathroom right now?" he asks, low.

"We wanted some fruit," I whisper, which is possibly the most idiotic thing I have ever said.

The corner of his mouth lifts.

And then he kisses me.

It's nothing like I expected. Not rushed, not careless. His hand settles on my hip first, firm and steady, and when I don't pull away he draws me in slowly, like he's giving me every chance to stop him. I should stop him. I know exactly who he is and what his last name means and I should absolutely stop him.

I open my mouth instead.

He kisses like he does everything else, unhurried, certain, like he has all the time in the world and has already decided how this ends. His hand slides into my wet hair, fingers curling gently at the nape of my neck, and when he tilts my head back I hear myself make a sound I have never made before in my life.

He pulls back slowly. His forehead drops to mine.

We're both breathing harder than we should be over a kiss in a hallway.

"What was that?" I whisper.

"A redo of your first kiss." His thumb traces along my jaw, unhurried. "That's how it should have been."

His fingers drift down along my shoulder, over my collarbone, stopping just above my heart. I am not breathing. I am not entirely sure I remember how.

He laughs softly, low and warm, and leans in until his lips brush my ear.

"That's the kiss you deserved, sole." A pause. "Il mio piccolo sole."

My little sun.

He pulls back, studies my face once more with those dark, unreadable eyes, and then he's gone. footsteps quiet on the marble, disappearing back toward the study like he was never here at all.

I stand against the wall for a long moment.

Then I go get the fruit.