The party at the Ward manor was in full effect. The house and yard was filled with people, music blasting throughout a multitude of speakers, couples kissing at every possible corner.

Ward Cameron was gone. And to Rafe, that called for a celebration. He might not know where the gold his, but he got more than enough money from the Cross of Santo Domingo— for now.

He'd just finished downing a row of shots with Barry; someone he might consider a friend now. But business partner is the term he uses when someone asks— Rafe isn't known for being the most friendly man in Kildare.

Partygoers would pass by him and shoot him a wave, maybe a quick 'Yo, Rafe!' which he'd respond to with a quick nod, or a raise of his glass. His eyes wouldn't focus on them though, no. His eyes had been glued to you, ever since you'd left his side, claiming you wanted to dance with your friends.

You, the one person he's opened his heart to. Who he's trusted with everything— even the issues he's had with his father. He even sometimes talks about his mother, rarely so.

The smallest of smiles tilted the corners of his lips, as he watched you laugh and dance to the beat of the song. It was one of your favorites; he'd made sure all your favorite songs were in the unimaginably long playlist he always turns on for these.

But then, he saw someone. Some guy, in prissy clothes, collar all neat and nice as if his mother had dressed him before he came, and he had the audacity to be staring at you. Like he had any right getting even within five feet of you. Rafe was many things, and possessive was certainly one of them.

You were his. Everyone on the damn island knew that. And this guy just decided to push his luck.

Not wasting a breath, Rafe dropped his glass on the table, stepping away from the railing of the patio he'd stood at, and quickly walked his way over to you.

His hands curled at your hip, pulling your back against his chest, as he leaned down, pressing a few kisses along your neck, starting from just below your ear, ending at your shoulder. "Hi, baby. You havin' fun? Not tired of dancin' yet?" He murmured into your ear, before tilting his head up, shooting a glare at the guy who'd been staring.

Rafe Cameron may do many things, sharing is not one of them.