The Godfather’s Twenty Year Dream Was Her Chapter 10

The Godfather’s Twenty Year Dream Was Her Chapter 10

When I arrived at Rafael’s place—wow. It was an insane estate.

I thought about how impulsive I’d been. Even after two lifetimes, I still acted on a whim.

Well, I was already there. I might as well go in.

I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A beautiful woman answered. She had elegant features, and looked a little like Rafael.

Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “I know you! You’re the girl from the photos!”

“Huh?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth to hide a smile, and waved me inside without explaining.

Then she called into the living room, “Rafael, someone’s here to see you. Come out here.”

While I waited, she asked me, “How’s your classmate’s mother recovering? Was the surgery successful?”

I froze. “You mean Alistair’s mom? How did you know she was hospitalized?”

“Rafael told me. A few days ago, he asked his dad and me if we knew any top oncologists. The surgeon operating on her is Rafael’s uncle. Didn’t he tell you?”

I just stood there, stunned, and shook my head.

Just then, Rafael walked out of his room, his face set in a scowl as he muttered to himself. “I told everyone I’m sick and not receiving guests. Who’s this rude person showing up now?”

His words died when his gaze locked with mine. His pupils blew wide, panic plain on his face. “Sera? What are you doing here?”

“They said you were sick. I brought your homework workbook, and came to check on you.”

“I—uh—you—”

His mom couldn’t stand watching him stammer. “Take Sera to your room to talk. I’ll cut up some fruit for you two.”

Rafael snapped out of his daze and turned to lead me toward his bedroom.

I rubbed my temples—he was walking stiffly again, clearly flustered.

Once inside his room, Rafael calmed down a little, a flush spreading across his cheeks. I couldn’t tell if it was from the fever or nerves.

“Sorry about the mess in my room.”

It was huge. Half the space was a study area, the other half held a big king bed. And you could tell he’d been raised well. Everything was neatly sorted and organized, tidier than my own room.

The only “mess” was an unmade blanket on his bed.

Suddenly I noticed several framed photos tucked face-down on his desk.

I thought they’d gotten knocked over, so I reached out to straighten them without thinking.

“Wait, don’t—”

Too late. I flipped one over.

They were all photos of me.

Six or seven picture frames, all solo shots of me at school.

Me reading with my head down during study hall. Me jogging in the sun on the sports field. Me feeding stray cats on the sidewalk.

Every single one was a clear, candid shot.

“I’m not a creep, I swear! I just think you’re pretty—no, I mean, I’ve had a crush on you for ages, so I—God, I’m making this worse. I sound like a total weirdo.”

His flustered panic made me laugh.

In that moment, I finally knew. He’d liked me for a very long time.

I couldn’t resist. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed the boy’s lips again.

His eyes darkened. “What’s this about?”

“I told you, rule of three. Third kiss, and I’m kissing you back.” With that, Rafael leaned in toward me.

Right before our lips touched, he stopped abruptly. “I’ve got a cold. I’m afraid you’ll catch—”

Before he finished speaking, I kissed him hard.

This time the boy didn’t hesitate. He wrapped one arm tight around my waist, pressed me against the wall, and deepened the kiss.

After what felt like forever, he pulled away. His gaze was still heavy, and he was breathing hard.

I pressed my palm against his chest. “You said you wanted to break up.”