He Gave My Heirloom To His First Love

After Rafael Holmes swept out with Tessa Guzman cradled in his arms, his friends trailed him to the hospital, all eager to hover and fuss over her. Before long, the lavish suite stood empty—everyone gone except Alora Moore and Patrick Dunn.

Patrick Dunn was the sole heir to the Dunn family, one of Washington, D.C.'s most powerful families. He and Rafael were like brothers, practically inseparable growing up. They'd lost touch for a few years while Patrick was abroad, but when he returned six months ago, he heard what Rafael had been through.

Rafael's other friends had written Alora off simply because they figured Rafael didn't care about her. Patrick's contempt ran deeper. It came from his fierce protectiveness of Tessa—a woman he loved like a sister.

When he was ten, on a volunteer trip with his father to a remote European village, Patrick survived a devastating earthquake and ended up trapped beneath the rubble beside Tessa. His injuries were so bad he couldn't even cry out. If not for her constant urging and comfort, he might never have made it until rescue came.

Tessa was sharp, radiant, regal—a proud, cold beauty. Next to her, Alora seemed to fade, striking face or not.

“Alora, how dare you send thugs after my Tessa? You deserve exactly what's coming to you!” Patrick's accusation sliced through the air while Alora stared, dazed, toward the door Rafael had disappeared through.

For a moment, she went still. Tessa? The name hit somewhere deep. It had been her childhood nickname, too. Only someone from her past—someone who'd been trapped with her in the rubble sixteen years ago—would ever call her that. But that boy hadn't been able to speak, and she'd never learned his name. The keepsake he'd given her had been stolen years ago, cutting the last thread between them.

Patrick's disgust deepened as he took in her bloodied face. To him, Rafael's involvement with her proved nothing but bad judgment—or desperation. His loathing boiled over. He snatched a glass of wine and dumped it over her head without a flicker of hesitation. “If you dare trouble Tessa again, I'll make you regret the day you were born!”

“I never harmed Tessa!” Alora shot back, her voice steady despite the throbbing wound on her forehead. The liquor burned her skin, and she trembled like a leaf in a storm. Still, that stubborn fire inside her hauled her to her feet. She summoned every ounce of strength and slapped Patrick across the face. “I said it before, and I'll say it again: one side of the story doesn't make me guilty! Call the police if you want—even they need proof, and Tessa's word isn't proof!”

“And you had no right to throw a drink in my face!”

Patrick froze for a full half minute. When his expression returned, he was seething. He was the epitome of privilege, always surrounded by sycophants and flatterers. The idea that someone would strike him—especially a woman he held in contempt—was unthinkable. If he weren't above hitting women, he would have enjoyed breaking her spirit.

His eyes burned into hers. Alora could feel the danger rolling off him, but she didn't regret it. She watched him warily, refusing to retreat an inch. “You started this,” she said. “I only hit back after you provoked me.”

Her boldness should have enraged him further, but somehow it amused him even through his fury. Rafael's taste in women got more questionable by the minute. Jaw tight, Patrick picked up another drink.

She was clearly terrified he might get physical, yet her stubborn pride kept her standing tall, unwilling to back down. Blood still trickled from her wound, streaking her pale face red, making her look even more pitiful. But her eyes blazed with defiance, cutting through the gloom around her. That spark stopped his hand. The drink never reached her.

Still, he couldn't let her off the hook for upsetting Tessa. He flung the glass to the floor. Shards skittered around her feet. “Stay out of Rafael's business,” he warned, his voice cold as ice. “Marrying him is Tessa's dying wish. If you get in the way of their relationship again, you'll regret it.”

Then he yanked the door open and stormed out, letting it slam behind him.

“Crazy,” Alora muttered. Patrick was unhinged. Four years ago, Tessa had abandoned Rafael when he was at his lowest—crippled and broke. Alora had only taken him in after their breakup. How could she have interfered in their relationship?

But none of that mattered anymore. She'd ended things with Rafael. These people were no longer part of her life. All she wanted now was to get back her parents' keepsake.

The alcohol and her injury finally caught up with her. Dizzy and unable to drive herself to the hospital, Alora waited until she'd regained enough strength, then hailed a ride to get her wound treated.

The hospital was unusually packed. By the time she was seen, it was late into the night. The doctor gave her two ointments and told her to apply them regularly to prevent scarring.

When she walked out, snow had started falling, blanketing the city in white. Through the swirling flakes, she spotted Rafael carrying Tessa on his back—a scene ripped straight from a romantic movie.

The sight stabbed at Alora's heart. She wanted to turn away, but Tessa's playful voice stopped her. “Rafael, the doctor said I'm healing well. You don't have to carry me.”

“Put me down, please! I can walk by myself!” Tessa insisted.

“Stop fussing,” Rafael said, his voice warm with exasperation. “It's freezing out here. Let me get you home.”

Tessa tightened her arms around his neck and gave a cheeky command. “If you're going to carry me, then you can only ever carry me. If you carry another girl, I'll be really upset!”

“Oh, look! There's a pastry shop across the street! Rafael, I'm suddenly craving strawberry cake. Would you buy me one?”

Alora glanced across the street at the bakery, famous for its irresistible cakes and open around the clock. Despite the snow, the line of customers stretched out the door.

Not long ago, Alora had come across a video of that popular pastry shop and mentioned wanting to try their strawberry cake. When she saw the long line, Rafael had scoffed and called waiting for cake a waste of time.

But tonight, as the line stretched even longer, he gently settled Tessa into his car and soothed her. “I'll wait in line for it. Cover yourself with the blanket and wait in the car.”

The blanket in his car was one Alora had bought.

“Rafael...” Tessa stopped him. She lifted a leg clad in bright red high heels, her tone teasing as she hooked her leg around him and pulled him down into the backseat with her. Their breath mingled in the close, heated air.

Alora braced herself for what would inevitably come next. Instead, Rafael's eyes cut sharply in her direction, piercing straight through the darkness.