Broken Together by K. S. Ruff Read Free Book Online Page A

his
stomach. “It is good to have you back.”
    Rafael
patted him on the back. “It’s good to be back.” We walked back to the elevator.
Rafael slid a card through a magnetic device rather than pushing a button when
we entered the elevator this time.
    I
waited for the elevator doors to close. “You regularly plied the doorman with
decadent pastries when you lived here, didn’t you?”
    Rafael
chuckled. “Matias is very good at keeping unwanted guests away.”
    I
eyed the plastic card he was holding. “You live in the penthouse, I presume?”
    His
eyes sparked with amusement. “You’re quite the sleuth.”
    The
elevator opened into a private lobby with a dark slate floor and charcoal walls.
The room held three large tropical plants. Contemporary oil paintings in stark
white, silver, gray, and black glowed beneath strategically placed lights. Two
black leather chairs flanked a small table holding a white chunk of marble. The
far wall featured a massive wall fountain. The black marble slab was housed
inside a brushed steel frame. Hidden lights made the water shimmer as it trickled
down the roughly hewn slab. “I want one of those.”
    Rafael
swiped the card in the door before keying a code. He eyed the marble slab.
“Where would you hang it?”
    “In
my bedroom, assuming I could find one in brown. I really like how soothing it
sounds.”
    Rafael
pushed the door open. Still balancing his cappuccino and the two remaining
pastry bags, he pulled me into his arms. “Welcome to your new home, my love.”
He kissed me passionately before stepping inside the flat. He strode into the
kitchen, grabbed some plates and silverware, and joined me at the counter. He
folded his jacket over the back of his chair.
    I
settled onto a bar stool while Rafael pulled pastries from the bags. Black
cupboards, black marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, a long stainless
steel sink, and recessed lighting lent the kitchen a decidedly masculine feel.
    I
looked at the dining room. The far wall held a black, contemporary bar. The
wall above the bar was lined with glass shelves where a variety of brandy
snifters, wine, shot, rocks, beer, and martini glasses were glowing beneath
recessed lights. The black dining room table and chairs were tall and anchored
above a contemporary area rug in swirling strips of black, white, and gray.
Black hard wood floors and charcoal walls framed the entire open concept flat.
    I
slid off the stool, unable to resist the pull of the living room. The black leather
couch and chairs were anchored around a plush white rug. I tugged my boots and
socks off so I could step on the rug. The soft fibers tickled my toes. A large
flat screen television hung on the wall to my right. Two sets of French doors
opened onto two separate balconies directly in front of me. I unlatched two of
the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. This side of the building faced a large
courtyard. I stepped back inside so I could continue exploring the flat.
    “I’m
brewing more coffee,” Rafael announced from the kitchen.
    I
started toward him. Black and white photographs lined the wall behind the
couch. I stopped to check them out. “What is this?” I pointed to a picture
where black and white mosaic tiles formed a dizzying display of waves.
    He
joined me in front of the picture. “That’s the pavement in front of Rossio
Square.”
    “And
this one?” The photograph contained mosaic circles overlapping one another in alternating
shades of black and white.
    Rafael
shrugged. “I can’t recall which plaza that pavement surrounds.”
    “The
sidewalks were stunning along the Avenida da Liberdade ,” I recalled. I
followed him back to the breakfast bar. “Did you take those pictures?”
    He
poured two cups of coffee. “Yes.”
    I
thought about the photograph he’d taken of me on the park bench. “You’re very
talented.” My eyes swept over the apartment again. “I like this place. Your
design choices are surprisingly