Rayne’s been gone for a while and for some reason, it’s making me uneasy. I’m not an idiot. I know what he does for a living, and I know what likely needed his attention, and yet I’m still worried. I’m not sure if that means I care for him more than I’m letting myself admit, or if I’m just an idiot.
I’ve been mingling for the last hour, talking to the mayor about one of the kids at the Center who recently received a full-ride scholarship to Harvard.
“I’ve never seen someone look so nervous in my life. He looked so tired and the envelope was crinkled, so I knew he had been putting off opening it since the day before,” I explain.
The morning Adam arrived in my office long before even Dad could arrive, an unopened envelope in his hand and a mixture of excitement and terror etched into his features plays back as I tell the story.
Adam’s curly brown hair is a mess, dark smudges under his deep brown eyes. The moment I see him sitting in the chair opposite mine, I think something has happened at home. His home life is better than some of the other kids, but I wouldn’t exactly call it good. I’ve met his mom a few times, and she loves him and his sisters to death, but she’s on her own and works almost as much as I do to put food on the table and clothes on their backs, leaving Adam as the parent a lot of the time.
His sisters are only a few years younger than him, and probably more than capable of taking care of themselves, but he’s done it for almost their entire lives, it’s all he knows.
He hasn’t said as much, but I know he’s worried about leaving them next year. When he was doing applications, he only wanted to apply to Chicago colleges to begin with, but I convinced him to cast his net wider.
“You’re here early,” I comment as I take my seat and place my coffee down in front of me. “Is everything okay?”
Adam’s intense eyes meet mine. “I need you to open this for me.” He pushes the envelope toward me and the Harvard stamp in the corner catches my eye. “I got it last night and I couldn’t bring myself to open it. You’re the one that helped with my application, that encouraged me to apply for a school I only ever dreamed of, and that hounded people for references. I think you should open it.”
My heart clenches at the sentiment. He’s not the first kid I’ve helped with college applications, but he is the first to ask me to not only be a part of such a special moment, but to physically open the letter. It reminds me why I work so hard for these kids.
I reach across the desk and hold the envelope in both hands, but don’t make a move to open it right away. “What do you want this to say, Adam? I know you were concerned about moving away from your mom and sisters, but if you take all of that away, what do you want the outcome to be?”
He sits back in his seat, contemplating my question. He looks as torn as I did the day I received a letter that looked very much like the one I’m holding in my hands now. I wish I had had someone to ask me the same question, because as I opened my own letter, I hoped for it to say I didn’t get in. I hoped for it to take the decision out of my own hands. “I want to get in. It’s an incredible school and Cambridge isn’t that far away, really. I could always visit.”
I nod and use a pen to slowly slice the top of the envelope. When I unfold the paper, there’s only one word I see.
Congratulations.
Adam and I scream and cry and scream a little more and by the time Dad arrives, Adam is on cloud nine.
“You and your father do great things for those kids.” The mayor smiles.
I barely hold back the urge to ask if we’re doing such great work, why did the city take away all our funding. Barely.
“They deserve to have someone in their corner, and Dad and I love being those people.” I try to keep the contempt out of my voice, but this man angers me. Every year he comes to the gala, talks about the great work we do, and every year we miss out on city funding.
Before he can say anything, the lights start to dim. “Looks like it’s time for speeches and dinner,” someone nearby says.
My stomach flips with a mixture of nerves and hunger. Public speaking has never been my forte, but it’s more mine that dads, which means pretty much every year I draw the short straw. Between the knot in my stomach about Rayne’s departure, and the impending speech, I haven’t been able to eat since lunchtime yesterday.
I look around the ballroom for the Saint James family, but both Rayne and Storm are still missing. Hurt seeps into my veins. I don’t know why I expected anything else. I’m used to men letting me down, why would he be any different?
I make my way up to the stage, slipping the speech I’ve written over and over from my small purse before dropping it on the table beside my name. Dad gives me a small smile as I take the stage and wait on the side for the MC to announce me.
The lights are blinding and between the heat that’s turned up high and the spotlights that feel like the sun, I’m cooking.
“The lovely Emerson Miller organized tonight, and she has a few words to say about this very worthy cause.” The MC turns to me and clapping echoes through the ballroom.
I take his place at the podium, taking a moment to look at the people in the room and get my bearings. Our funding relies on my ability to deliver this speech, and I don’t want to let the kids down.
My eyes lock with familiar black ones and my body relaxes immediately. Rayne stands beside Storm at the back of the ballroom, and I hold his gaze throughout my speech, leaning on him even from afar to get me through.
I don’t know when I’m going to accept it, but Rayne isn’t going to let me down like every other man I’ve known. Every time he’s told me he’s going to do something, he’s done it. That should calm me, but it only makes me more cautious to put my trust in the devil my heart yearns for.
By the time I take a seat beside my dad, the exhaustion is starting to tug at my subconsciousness. The adrenaline from the speech is starting to subside and has left fatigue in its path.
Rayne demanded I go home with him tonight, but all I can think about it curling up in my bed in the shirt he left at my place that smells like him.
“You did great, honey. Not a dry eye in the house.” He nudges me excitedly.
I smile. Every year I try to put as much emotion into my speech as I can, wanting to tug at as many heartstrings as I can, but this year I really nailed it.
A body slips into the seat on the other side of me, but I don’t turn to them until their hand slides up my leg.
“That was some speech, sweet girl.” Rayne’s breath whispers across my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I’m not sure how to act in front of my father. I’ve had boyfriends before, but I’m not one for public displays of affection, especially in front of my dad.
Dad’s eyes burn into the side of my head, but Rayne isn’t backing away despite my obvious discomfort with the situation. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Rayne is almost as stubborn as I am, he’s never going to be the first to back down.
“That was a wonderful speech, dear,” Beth says from behind me and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I turn in my seat, turning my back on Rayne so I can catch my breath. “Thank you so much. I’m not much of a public speaker, if I’m honest.”
“Nonsense. You’re a natural!” Wynter appears beside Beth with a smile on her face.
They both turn to my father. “I’m Beth.” She sticks her hand out to my dad. “I’m Rayne’s mother, and this is my daughter, Wynter.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Dad stands to shake their hands, ever the gentleman. It’s a wonder how I get into such terrible relationships, seeing as my father is such a great man. Loyal. Giving. Loving. Would give anyone the shirt off his own back if they needed it more than him.
Rayne’s lips brush across the place where my shoulder meets my neck, his hands moving to my waist to hold me in place. “I can’t wait to get you home, sweet girl,” he whispers.
Dad is caught in conversation with Beth, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from widening in panic. He can’t touch me like this in public, especially not when my father is so close.
“He’s distracted, Emerson. He won’t see how your nipples are hardening for me right now.”
My breath catches in my throat as I look around. Just because my dad is distracted doesn’t mean everyone else at the table is.
“They’re not paying you any attention right now, sweet girl. They know the price of looking at what belongs to me.” His words should be unsettling, but for some reason, they only make the ache in my core deepen. Rayne brings something out in me that I don’t recognize, and I don’t think it’s a good thing.
“Rayne,” I hiss, trying to turn to face him, but his grip on my waist holds me in place.
“Stay right where you are.”
I freeze in my place, the command in his voice clear.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Your head is always telling you to disobey me, but your body knows I’ll take care of it, that I’ll make you feel better than even your wildest dreams have you believing.” Rayne’s thumbs stroke the bare skin of my back, his touch lighting me on fire. “Is your sweet pussy wet for me?” He trails kisses up my neck as his hands slide into my dress from the back, gripping my waist again. He’s right behind me now, his body blocking the way he’s touching me.
My reply is caught in my throat, an intoxicating cocktail of panic and arousal seeping through my body. I’ve never been touched like his in public, never allowed someone to play my body like their own personal instrument where anyone can see. But as usual, Rayne has me breaking my own rules.
“Answer me,” Rayne growls.
“Yes.” The word slips from my lips on a whisper.
“Are you wearing panties, sweet girl?”
“No.” I shake my head. The dress he chose is unforgiving. When I slid the dress on over the sexy set I picked out, the lines were obvious and I had to make the decision to forgo panties and a bra.
An animalistic groan fills my ears. “You mean to tell me that my woman was just on stage with hundreds of people staring at her, and my pussy was bare?” The menace in his voice should scare me, logically I know that, but for some reason it only has my core heating more and I’m genuinely starting to worry that my wetness is going to seep through my dress.
“Yes,” I whisper. My heart thumps hard in my chest, almost to the point of pain. The way he’s speaking to me sets my entire body on fire, and I relish in the burn.
The snarl that follows doesn’t sound human but before he can say anything else, our families turn toward us, and his hands retreat from inside my dress.
Wynter’s smirk tells me she knows we were getting up to no good while their backs were turned, but Beth and my dad seem oblivious.
“I know there’s a donation box over there, but we wanted to give you this personally.” Wynter hands my father a check. “We want to arrange a regular donation, or a sponsorship if possible. The work you do is incredible, and we would love to support the Center in any way we can.”
Dad’s eyes widen to the point I’m worried they may pop out of their sockets. “This is extremely generous, but I hope you don’t feel it’s expected because Emerson and Rayne have become an item.” He hands the check to me and I choke on the air I’m breathing at the number of zeros that follow the first number.
“Of course not.” Beth shakes her head. “Not many people know this, but before Frost Industries existed, we were very poor, and the boys spent a lot of time at a Center just like the one you run. Rayne told us a bit about the programs you run, and the ones you would like to, and we want to help in any way we can, just as our boys were helped when we needed it, regardless of our children’s relationship status.”
I tear my eyes from the value and look up at Beth and Wynter, hoping the gratitude I feel in my heart shows on my face. All I can think about is the folder on my desk with all the initiatives we’ve wanted to start but couldn’t afford, all the things we want to do to help the kids that see us as a refuge, the staff we could employ so Dad and I had more time to do what we’re passionate about. “This is so incredibly kind,” I say and my voice breaks. “I don’t know what to say. This means so much to us and the kids. Thank you.”
I feel the tears roll down my cheeks before I register I’m crying. We’ve never received such a large donation before, in fact, the check I hold in my hands is almost three times more than we expected to receive tonight. I dab at my eyes, hoping my eye makeup isn’t running down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’m not normally so emotional.” I look at my father who looks equally as grateful as I feel. “I’m just going to pop to the ladies’ room before dinner is served.” I hand the check back to Dad before standing, but Rayne catches my wrist before I can walk away.
“What did I say, sweet girl?” he rumbles.
“I was out of your sight for an entire hour and you weren’t concerned,” I snap, thankful Beth and my father are already wrapped up in conversation. “It’s just the bathroom, Rayne. I’ll be fine.”
“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in when I get you home.” Something dark crosses his face and sends a shiver of need through my body.
“Promises, promises.” I shrug and tug out of his hold before crossing the ballroom.
Rayne’s eyes burn a hole in my back as I go, but he’s not following me. I can’t think when he’s near, not rationally at least, and a breather will do me some good.
I smile politely as I pass tables of people, only stopping for a moment to thank them when they congratulate me on my speech.
By the time I reach the hallway, I’ve managed to push my emotions back into the neat little box I usually keep them in. The money the Saint James family have just donated is a dream come true. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine anyone would be so generous, but fuck, it means everything to me.
I slip into the bathroom and thank any god that will listen that it’s empty as I quickly move to the mirror to fix my makeup. Thankfully I had the foresight to use my waterproof mascara tonight and my tears didn’t do much damage.
Rayne’s words swirl around my head as I swipe the small black smudges under my eyes away and pull my powder from my clutch to cover the evidence. I shouldn’t bait him like I do. He’s dangerous, one look at him and I knew that, and yet at every turn, I feel the need to push him, but the promise of punishment has wetness pooling between my legs.
When the door behind me pushes open, I don’t move to see who has walked in, instead slipping the compact back into my bag to make a swift exit, except when I glance up at the mirror triple checking my appearance, a man is standing behind me, a menacing smile on his face.
“Who are you?” I force my voice to remain even, despite the panic rising in my throat.
“Mr. Russo is disappointed that you quit the club.” The man’s voice is gravelly, and if it wasn’t for the smell radiating off him, that alone would have told me he smokes heavily. His black hair is receding at the front, and gray hairs litter the darkness. But it’s his eyes that scare me as I meet them in the mirror. Eyes so emotionless, so dead that if I believed in souls, this man didn’t have one.
“I was overextending myself with so many jobs,” I tell him. It’s not exactly a lie, because I was, but it’s not the reason I called Kyle the other day to tell him I wasn’t coming back. “I needed to focus on my studies,” I tack on the end.
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with Saint James,” the man hisses and I cringe as his body steps closer to me, his stench rolling over me to the point my stomach clenches with the need to vomit.
My eyes dart to the door in the mirror, but before I can think to make a run for it, the man grabs hold of my waist, spinning me before pressing me back into the edge of the basin, the porcelain digging into me painfully. “Don’t even think about it, slut,” he hisses, his breath wafting across my face and I barely contain the gag retching in my throat.
“What do you want?” I ask evenly, despite the panic thundering through my chest.
“Mr. Russo has requested I bring you to him, but I’m sure he won’t object to me having a little fun first.” He smirks, his hand moving to the slit in my dress, and nausea rolls over me. His hands are rough as they push my dress up, grazing my skin and making every piece of flesh they touch feel dirty.
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to calm my racing heart enough to execute my escape plan. I know enough self-defense I can disarm him, even as large as he is, for long enough to flee the bathroom and get back into the ballroom where I’ll be surrounded by people, where I’ll be safe. But to do that, I need to get my breathing under control, I need to have a level head.
“Open your eyes, bitch,” he growls a moment before his fingers grip my chin so hard I’m sure he’s going to leave bruises.
Except I don’t follow his command, if I did, the panic threatening to take over would do just that, and I would have no chance of getting out of this bathroom in one piece.
When his fingers tighten even further, a sense of calm envelops me and my eyes pop open to meet his.
“Good girl. I’ll make it feel so good for you, when I deliver you to Russo, you’ll be all ready for him.” The endearment sounds wrong coming from him. There’s only one man I want to be good for, and it sure as hell isn’t the piece of shit pawing at the hem of my dress, tearing the expensive fabric until the slit almost uncovers my bare pussy. Part of me idly worries Rayne will be mad that the first gift he’s ever given me is ruined, but something tells me he’ll be mad about everything else first.
“What’s this?” he rasps. “Your pussy is bare, just begging to be used.” His words make my stomach roll painfully, but it’s also the moment he moves in just the way I need for my plan to work.
Before his rough hands can brush across my sex, my knee connects with his balls so hard all the air in his lungs bursts out and without missing a beat, I run for the door, holding my dress in one hand to avoid tripping on it.
I almost reach the door when he slams me face first into the adjacent wall, his hand gripping the back of my neck and holding me painfully in place. “You little fucking bitch,” he hisses, his mouth against my ear as he presses himself into my back. Bile rises in my throat at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into my lower back, but I can’t afford to panic. Not yet at least. “You like it rough, is that it?” His free hand pushes up the back of my dress and for the first time since he came in, I allow myself to feel the panic that has been lying dormant. For the first time, hopelessness fills the void inside me. My only hope is someone walking through the door, and seeing as dinner was being served as I left, that doesn’t seem likely.
Hot tears roll down my cheeks, fear holding me down in a vise grip. I shouldn’t have left Rayne’s side. He told me I was in danger, and I didn’t listen. I thought he was exaggerating, that there was no way Russo gives a fuck about me. How wrong I was. A sob escapes my throat and I hate that this man can hear my weakness, that he knows violating me will break me.
“That’s it. Cry for me, you little cunt,” he rumbles as the sound of his zipper echoes off the tiles.
This is it. This is the moment that despite my fight, despite all my self-defense training, despite always walking to my car with my keys between my fingers and my hand on the pepper spray in my bag, this is the moment it’s all for nothing.
“I’m going to enjoy destroying this pussy. By the time Russo gets his hands on you, you’ll be all broken in, just like he likes them.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, begging myself to go to a safe place, to go anywhere so I don’t have to live through what’s about to happen to me. I’ve heard enough victim stories to know there is a safe place in your mind you can retreat to, so you don’t have to feel anything as a stranger violates your body, and I pray I can find that place before this asshole pushes inside my unwilling body.
Before I can find it, and before the man can get his dick out of his pants, a loud bang fills the expansive bathroom, and warm liquid coats my bare back, my hair and the wall in front of me.
Blood.
It’s everywhere. The crimson liquid drips down my skin, but I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, my entire body shaking with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.
A body presses against mine and an involuntary squeal leaves my throat.
“It’s okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” Rayne rasps, his voice coated in something I’ve never heard from him before. If I had to hazard a guess, fear. “I’ve got you.”
I allow myself to sink into his warmth, the terror I felt only a few moments ago evaporating as I give myself to Rayne, and trust him to keep me safe as I give into the darkness tugging at the edge of my vision.
