Rafael's Table の小説・ストーリー

Rafael said firmly, "don't call me that again. We agreed on that a long time ago. And Aurora is my partner now. I hope you can respect that." Aurora was surprised by Rafael's calm yet firm tone. Under the table, she felt Rafael reach for her hand and hold it warmly. "Are you okay?" Rafael asked in a low voice. Aurora looked at Rafael and nodded softly, then gave a small smile. Their eyes exchanged more than words ever could. Rachel gave a tight-lipped smile. "Wow, I really do feel like the third wheel," she said, yet remained in her seat, seemingly unwilling to leave. "But it's fine, I just wanted a pleasant dinner. We're all adults here, aren't we?"

Rafael sat at the head of the table, Lucien positioned to his right. Lucien. His black eyes lifted when she entered, unreadable, unsettling. He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Rafael gestured for her to sit. “You’re late,” he said mildly. “You said thirty minutes,” she replied. His gaze sharpened, but after a beat, he nodded. “Fair.” The meal was exquisite. She barely tasted it. Conversation was sparse, controlled. Rafael spoke when he wished. Jaxon drifted in and out, offering comments that felt harmless until she realized he was always steering the topic away from anything personal.

“Yeah.” The door opened just enough for a tall figure to step into the dim room. He moved like someone who knew how to be gentle in places that had learned to flinch. Dark curls fell into his eyes. A faint scar cut across one knuckle. He carried a mug in each hand. “I’m Rafael,” he said. “I run the quiet parts of this place.” Nori nodded, throat tight. “Thank you,” she managed. He set one mug on the small table beside her cot. Steam curled up between them. “Tea,” he said. “Not medicinal. Just warm.”

Rafael's bar in the Philippines is the main branch but it is located in LA. Rafael is a top model and a great Chef. Its bar ownership is just a pastime. Its income from the bar is donated by all to various orphanages and homes for the aged. "Tsk!" He drank the glass of wine he put down. "What is it? Looks like you got into a fight ah," "Don't mind me." "Come on, tell me. Maybe I can help." "I don't need your help. I just came here to get drunk." "It's easy though."

Heads turned. Rafael's hand slammed on the table, “Do you wanna cry?” he laughed and his smile turned into a frown, “Cry! I'mma get a cup and drink the sweet tears... Or what do you want? An award? I can get it for you. Stupid child!...” he cussed and eat from his plate, drinking a glass of water.

He kept his eyes on his plate. But he felt the air shift. The door opened. He didn’t look up right away. He didn’t need to. The way the room stilled for half a second told him everything. Rafael entered quietly, dressed in black like he didn’t care how he looked. No jacket. Shirt untucked slightly at the back. Sleeves rolled up. He carried himself with the kind of calm that felt dangerous, not casual, but controlled. “Apologies,” Rafael said to the table, to no one in particular. “I lost track of time.”

said Ella. Rafael did not answer immediately. Instead, he removed the apron he was wearing and approached them with a tray. Ella and Luna set down their iced coffee in front of them. “It’s not poisonous. I put nothing, even sleeping pills. Let’s talk, isn’t that what you want?” said Rafael, sitting on the other side of the table. -----

I nodded, stepping inside. We drove to the nearest upscale café, but Rafael handed me his card instead of getting out. "I have a call I need to make. Maybe you can grab whatever you want and meet me back in the car," he said, his expression dark and cold. His annoyingly high-esteemed demeanor stared back at me. For a second, I wondered if I was capable of being the alpha's wife, if I was capable of being in his bed. The thought made me blush. "I wish I could figure out what you're thinking sometimes, because I know I'm in those thoughts," he whispered, breaking me from my reverie.

for the night. One of the older men chuckled, swirling his wine. “Rafa. You've finally learned how to enjoy life.” His eyes flicked to me. “What a pretty thing.” Rafa smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Careful, this pretty thing bites,” he said lightly. The man continued, “After this, what's next? Letting him paint your nails while we negotiate?” The table chuckled—low, ugly laughter. My chest burned, but before I could decide whether to curse him out or grab the nearest knife, Rafa moved.

He patted his shoulder and went to sit with Enzo. Rafe looked at Josh, Enzo and then Chelsea before he gulped down and looked around the table. Everyone was quiet. Deadly silent and then they all erupted into fits of laughter. They were practically laughing, holding their tummies and there Rafe was trying to save himself from a blushing, embarrassed Chelsea. —------.... Tabby