Chapter 11: Strawberries, Banana, Apples & Kiwi

Rachel grabbed a handful of clothes from the closet, her face flushed, and bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Inside, her heart pounded as she leaned against the door, struggling to calm the storm of emotions brewing within her. Rafael. That maddening man. He was an idiot—a smug, insufferable idiot. She felt humiliated, not just by his actions but by her own heated reaction to him.

Meanwhile, Rafael stood by the bed, smirking to himself. The sound of the door slamming had been more satisfying than it should have been. He imagined her inside, fuming and likely trembling, embarrassed by his brazen behavior. He chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. He had kissed her too hungrily, too desperately, like a wolf with no regard for the innocence of the sheep. Shame should have been his dominant emotion, but instead, he felt an inexplicable satisfaction.

He slipped into his pajama bottoms, the cool fabric against his skin doing little to douse the heat still coursing through him. A faint, sweet fragrance wafted through the air, interrupting his thoughts. He paused, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Strawberries. It was intoxicating—refreshing yet provocative. His lips curled into a grin. She was driving him crazy, and she didn't even know it.

Inside the bathroom, Rachel stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting the water soothe her frazzled nerves. The strawberry-scented soap lathered on her skin felt like a comfort blanket, one she'd carried from childhood. Her mother had always chosen strawberry fragrances, and though she'd experimented with others over the years, nothing ever felt quite as right. She smiled faintly at the memory, rinsing off the shampoo that enveloped her hair in the same familiar scent.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she gathered her toiletries into a small bag and tied a robe securely around her body. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, bracing herself for whatever storm Rafael might stir next.

The bedroom was quiet, but the air felt charged. She didn't see him at first and moved toward the closet. Just as her hand reached for the knob, a larger, stronger hand pressed the door shut above hers. She froze. Turning slowly, her breath hitched as she found herself mere inches from Rafael. His dark eyes glittered with mischief, and his smirk was nothing short of dangerous.

"Rachel," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "you smell... so sweet." He sighed as if her scent alone could unravel him.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but she feared it would betray her. The tension between them was palpable, a magnetic force pulling her closer even as she tried to resist.

"Rafael, please..." she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

But he didn't move away. Instead, he closed the remaining gap, his body pressing against hers, firm and unyielding. His breath was warm against her cheek, carrying the heady mix of masculinity that made her knees weak.

"Baby," he murmured against her ear, his voice thick with desire, "it's throbbing... I can't help it."

Her cheeks burned. She was caught in a whirlwind of sensations, her mind screaming to push him away even as her body betrayed her, leaning into the warmth he offered. His hands slid down to the belt of her robe, and with a deft pull, it fell open, exposing her shoulders. Her towel was the only barrier between them now.

"Stop it," she whispered, attempting to sidestep him, but he caught her arms, his grip firm but not painful.

"Rachel," he said, his tone softening, "you're driving me insane. Let's move to the bed."

"No!" she protested, her voice stronger now. "We had a deal. This—this isn't part of it."

"A deal?" he laughed darkly. "Deals are for business. This is something else entirely."

She glared up at him, fire sparking in her eyes. "I swear, Rafael, if you try anything—"

"You'll what?" he challenged, his smirk widening. "Cut me off? Oh, baby, you already have."

Rafael pulled his head back, his expression suddenly serious as he looked deep into Arabella's eyes. The storm of emotions swirling within him came to a head, and he released her arms, stepping back as though retreating from a battlefield. Damn it, Rafael. What kind of man would he be if he used force? Barbaric? A brute? He wasn't that man, nor did he want to be. But she—standing there with nothing but a towel to shield her from his gaze—was driving him to the edge.

She was a vision of maddening temptation, a Michelangelo come to life, her every curve a masterpiece sculpted to perfection. The glint in her eyes, though, was less seductive and more venomous as she glared at him. That scowl of hers, full of defiance and annoyance, was oddly endearing. He couldn't help but give her his best sad puppy-dog eyes, arms wide in an exaggerated offer of peace.

"All right, baby, you win," he said, his tone light and teasing. "I'll put my banana away—for now." His lips quirked into a mischievous grin. "But how about a little tease? You know, for being such a good boy. What do you say?"

Arabella blinked, caught off guard by the absurdity of his request. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Rafael's grin widened as his eyes darkened with playful intent. Without waiting for her to catch on, he reached for the knot of her towel. Before she could stop him, with one swift tug, the towel fell to the floor.

Time stood still for a fraction of a second as Rafael's jaw dropped. His eyes, wide with admiration, drank in the sight before him. "Madonna mia," he murmured, a chuckle bubbling up as he admired her. "You're a goddess. A living, breathing masterpiece."

Arabella screamed, her hands flying to cover her chest while she crossed her legs in a desperate bid to shield herself. "You pervert!" she shouted, her face aflame. Scrambling to grab her robe from the floor, she quickly wrapped it around herself, glaring daggers at him.

Rafael, on the other hand, had fallen backward onto the bed, his laughter uncontrollable. He rolled back and forth, clutching his stomach. "I saw it all! Two apples and a kiwi! Oh, baby, you're killing me!" he wheezed between bouts of laughter.

"I'm going to kill you!" she shrieked, stomping toward the bed. Without warning, she grabbed his ears and twisted them hard. His laughter turned into a pained yelp as he writhed under her grip.

"Bella, Baby...!" he cried, but she wasn't done yet. With surprising agility, she jumped onto the bed and delivered a solid kick, sending him tumbling onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"You're sleeping on the floor, sicko!" she declared, folding her arms across her chest as if sealing the decree.

Rafael groaned, rubbing his side as he lay sprawled on the floor. "Baby, that hurt. But sooner or later, I'll see it all again."

"Shut up!" she snapped. "You're lucky I don't throw you out the window." She turned her back on him, marching to the bed, and collapsed onto the soft mattress. The matter was settled—Rafael would endure the cold, hard floor, while Arabella claimed the water bed for herself.

The next morning, the incessant ringing of Rafael's phone jolted him from his slumber. Half-asleep, he groped for the device, muttering under his breath. "Hello?" His tone was groggy, but whatever he heard on the other end snapped him to full alertness. "What? Really?" He sat upright, his voice now clear. "Shit! That's great! I'll be there in an hour."

Ending the call, he glanced over at Arabella, who was still curled up under the covers, fast asleep. A soft smile tugged at his lips. "Baby, you'll be mine in no time," he whispered, then headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

After getting dressed, he slipped out of the condo, leaving Arabella to her peaceful slumber.

It was nearing noon when Arabella finally stirred. Stretching languidly, she glanced around the quiet condo, surprised to find Rafael gone. She couldn't help but feel relieved—his absence meant peace and quiet. Grabbing her phone, she dialed home.

"Mia? Is Mom and Dad home?"

"No, Miss Ara. They left for Paris yesterday," came Mia's familiar voice.

"Did you tell them about me?" Arabella asked.

"Yes, Miss. They said to call them whenever you get home."

Arabella smiled softly. "Good. Did you feed my fish and turtle?"

"Yes, Miss. The fish had rice, and the turtle had steak."

Arabella froze, her smile vanishing. "Rice and steak? Mia! They don't eat that! Their food is in the container by the fish tank in my room."

"Oh." Ma sounded unapologetic. "Well, at my house, dogs eat bones and leftovers. Your pets have it good."

"Mia! Please use their proper food next time."

"Yes, Miss," Mia replied nonchalantly. "Oh, and your friend is here. He wants to talk to you."

Before Arabella could respond, the phone was handed off.

"Girl, where are you?" Levi's voice boomed, his tone a mix of concern and irritation. "You didn't come home last night!"

"Levi, don't shout!" she hissed. "I'm at Rafael's condo."

"Rafael's what? Girl, did you take the wrong flight and land in his bedroom instead of Paris?"

"Shut up, Levi! I'll explain later. Just come over. I'm bored. I'll text you the address."

Levi's response was a groan of exasperation, but Arabella hung up with a smile. With Rafael gone, at least for now, she had some breathing room. But knowing him, peace wouldn't last for long.

Levi dug into his oversized purse, fishing out a pen with dramatic flair, and carefully jotted down the address Arabella had given him. Once done, he snapped the pen shut with a flourish, stuffed it back into his bag, and grabbed his keys. Without a moment's pause, he hopped into his car and sped off toward his destination, muttering to himself about the possible tragedies his best friend might be enduring.

Arabella, in the meantime, paced the living room, the minutes dragging on as she waited. Nearly two hours passed before the sound of the doorbell shattered the silence. It rang incessantly, accompanied by frantic knocking.

Arabella sighed, making her way to the door. As soon as she opened it, Levi practically threw himself into the apartment, screaming as tears streamed down his face. He flung his arms around her in a crushing hug, sniffling loudly.

"Ah, girl! Are you okay? I was so worried!" he wailed, holding her as if she were a lifeline.

Arabella rolled her eyes but patted his back. "Levi, I'm not dead. You can stop crying now."

Levi sniffed dramatically, pulling back just enough to look at her face. "Ah, girl, it's okay. You've got me as your friend. We'll get through this together—all of it will pass."

Arabella frowned, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

Levi's eyes widened, fresh tears spilling over. "He raped you, didn't he!" His voice broke on the last word, his wails escalating.

Arabella yanked herself out of his hold, glaring. "No, he didn't rape me!"

Levi clutched his chest, gasping. "Ah, girl! Then—then you gave in to lust, didn't you?" His tone dropped to a scandalized whisper as he leaned closer.

"You're insane!" Arabella snapped, marching over to the sofa and throwing herself onto it.

Levi followed, sitting beside her with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So... nothing happened?" His voice was cautious now, tinged with disbelief.

"Nothing happened!" she cried, exasperated.

"Your fruits are still fresh, then?" he asked, voice deadly serious as he leaned forward.

"Yes!" Arabella shouted, cheeks flaming.

Levi sighed in relief, fanning himself with exaggerated gestures. "And you didn't see his banana?"

"NO!"

"Thank you, Oh Jesus," he said dramatically, looking upward as if in prayer. He slumped back against the sofa, visibly deflating with relief. But then his gaze sharpened, flicking around the apartment like a detective surveying a crime scene. "Wait a minute. Why are you even here, staying at his place?"

Arabella groaned, rubbing her temples as Levi popped up and began wandering the apartment, poking his nose into every corner. He strutted through the rooms with the confidence of someone conducting a property tour. His voice carried back as he stumbled into the bedroom.

"Oh my god!" he shouted, doubling over with laughter. "It's a one-room condo! You shared a waterbed with him? Ah, girl, I'm jealous! This is like a rom-com. Tell me everything."

Arabella stormed after him, scowling. "No! It's not what you think. Last night, he slept on the floor. I'm only here because I'm hiding from Dante. It's a long story, but until Dante is arrested, I can't leave."

Levi stopped laughing long enough to look at her with wide, curious eyes. "Ah, girl. Your life is full of drama. I wish mine were like yours. I wish a handsome, muscular, sexy guy would come into my life and demand my Kiwi..." He clasped his hands, twisting shyly, his voice trailing into a dreamy whisper. "Ahhh, I'm blushing just thinking about it."

Arabella groaned. "Levi, you're delusional. Rafael is a perverted maniac!"

Levi gasped, clasping his hands to his chest as if she'd delivered the most romantic news. "Ah, girl! That's even better!" His cheeks flushed as his fantasies spiraled. "Imagine—he wouldn't even be gentle! He'd just throw me onto the bed..." Levi trailed off, fluttering his lashes, lost in his increasingly outrageous daydreams.

Before Arabella could throttle him for his nonsense, a loud knock interrupted them both. The sound was sharp and insistent, echoing through the apartment.

Levi jumped, snapping back to reality. Arabella froze, her heart skipping a beat.

"It must be Rafael," she whispered, her voice tight.

Levi clutched her arm, grinning wickedly. "Ah, girl. Speaking of the devil. Let's see how this pervert maniac looks when I'm around."

Rafael slid the key into the lock, the soft click of the mechanism breaking the late afternoon silence. He stepped inside with a smooth confidence, his energy almost tangible in the air. The warm light from the windows outlined his sharp features, and a faint, playful smile tugged at his lips.

"I've got good news and bad news," he announced, his deep voice carrying a note of triumph as he tossed his jacket onto the chair. His dark eyes gleamed with a secret, the kind that made a heart skip with both hope and dread. "The good news first."

Arabella paused mid-step, her hand gripping the back of the sofa, her breath held like a tether. She couldn't help but watch him intently, her body wound tight with anticipation.

"Dante was arrested last night," Rafael began, his words deliberate, savoring the moment. "The police busted his operation and returned all the girls home safely. My lawyer and the police chief had a meeting this morning. Since we helped crack the case, the chief agreed to drop any allegations against you." His voice softened, his eyes locking onto hers. "Baby, he believes you're an innocent bystander. This isn't the first time Dante's used someone else's name to cover his tracks."

Arabella's hands flew to her mouth, a strangled gasp of relief breaking free. Her legs moved before her mind caught up, and she flung herself into his arms, her feet barely touching the floor as she leaped. "Really? So that means—I'm free? I can go?"

"Yes." Rafael's answer was warm, certain, and laced with quiet triumph. He let her revel in the joy for a moment, her body trembling with the release of pent-up fear, before his voice dipped, rich and low. "And now... the bad news."

Arabella stilled in his arms, her breath hitching as she pulled back to look at him. His lips curved into a devilish smile, the kind that sent shivers down her spine and heat pooling in her chest. Before she could step away, his arms tightened around her waist, his hands firm and possessive, drawing her flush against the solid length of his body.

"Next... two nights a week, you're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, his breath hot against her skin. His tone was dark and velvety, each word a promise, a claim, a challenge.

Her heart pounded, a wild drumbeat against her ribs, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her mind a chaotic swirl of freedom, relief, and the dangerous allure of the man who held her.