"I know I didn't answer your question fully," I say, my voice still a bit shaky, "but it doesn't mean you still couldn't tell me about yourself."
Rafael doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he takes a slow, deliberate sip of his wine. I watch the rich red liquid swirl in his glass, waiting with bated breath for him to finish. When he finally speaks, his words catch me off guard.
"I don't know what to say," he reveals, his usual confidence wavering for a moment.
My eyes widen in shock before I can stop myself. I quickly school my features, but not before I catch a flicker of something - vulnerability? - in Rafael's eyes.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. He's a cartel leader, a man whose reputation precedes him. He's probably never had to tell someone about himself becau
