Chapter 59

• FRANKIE
• The crisp autumn air hits my face as I descend the stairs of Rafael's private jet, my heels clicking against each metal step. My cream silk blouse flutters in the breeze, and I adjust the scarf around my neck. Thomas had smoothly told Mel it was his jet, and while the lie left a bitter taste in my mouth, it had worked. My sister's suspicions had eased, but the guilt of deceiving her weighs heavy on my shoulders.
• The empty tarmac stretches before me, eerily quiet except for the dying whine of the jet engines. My stomach twists as I scan the area – no sleek black Mercedes, no Rafael waiting. Something's wrong. He'd promised to be here, insisted on it actually, saying he couldn't wait another minute to see me after two weeks apart.