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“Naw honey, that’s okay,” I growled. “There’s just one need I have and it’s right here,” I said, drawing a big finger down her poochy stomach before trailing over the soft folds of her twat. “And you’ve been doing a great job, you’ve been providing for Daddy like a good girl.”
She twisted a bit, moaning, spreading her legs unconsciously.
“I know,” she breathed. “I know, Kane. But I just want to make sure that I do everything right because I need money, Kane. I really need it. My family needs it. My little brother,” and here she choked a little, “isn’t getting enough to eat and I’m afraid that he doesn’t have the energy to grow and learn, that he’s falling behind in in school because he’s hungry.”
I was still for a moment. Usually I hate sob stories, I’ve heard them all: My parents died, I grew up in a hovel with ten other kids and no running water, I chopped wood for pocket change, hustling on the streets. But for some reason, Becky’s story grabbed my heart, made me go still for a moment.
“Where are you parents?” I growled, eyes blazing. “Why are you looking out for your younger sibling?”
Becky took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking me in the eye.
“My dad, I have no idea. He’s never been part of the picture, I don’t think I’ve ever met him, not as long as I remember. And my mom, Ellen, well,” she took another deep breath before lifting her chin. “My mom was okay for a while, but then she got injured on the job and went off the rails. We get her disability checks, that’s how we survive.”
I nodded. Job-related injuries are the worst, I see them as the head of an international conglomerate, they’re a real liability. But still, why was an eighteen year-old girl in charge of her brother?
“So?” I asked. “It should be your mom supporting the family, somehow, some way. You’re just a child yourself, you can’t be shouldering these burdens.”
And Becky looked back at me steadily, incredible bravery and courage in her eyes before answering.
“I think my mom is an addict,” she said quietly. “I think she’s addicted to something, I’m not sure what, and I think she’s got a couple boyfriends to make money on the side. It’s why I never ask her to spend significant time with Mattie. Because she’s a bad influence, it’s better if Mattie doesn’t know his mom too well.”
And my head roiled, mouth dropping open. Shit, was I hearing this right? Was “boyfriends” a euphemism for johns, paying customers? So in her own way, Becky was telling me that her mom was a hooker of sorts? Holy shit, holy shit, this went beyond bad, this was fucking awful. And my mind whirled, determined to make her life better.
“How long has this been going on?” I growled, giving away nothing. “How long has your mom been on the streets?”
Becky swallowed heavily.
“For as long as I can remember,” she said in a whisper. “At least since Mattie was in diapers and he’s eight now.”
My eyes closed for a moment, before opening once more, staring at the girl hard.
“So you’ve been taking care of your younger brother and this woman, Nana, for almost a decade?” I ground out, voice rough. My chest felt tight, like I was having pains, and it was a new experience. I’ve faced down tough boardroom negotiations, I’ve made grown men cry without feeling a thing, and yet this one little girl, this one sweet female was making my heart ache, her vulnerability so palpable that something in my chest wrenched.
The brunette nodded slowly.
“Ever since I’ve been able to work, I’ve tried to help my family. Even just a little babysitting, a few shifts at the bodega, I did it. I wasn’t legal, you have to be twenty-one to sell alcohol. But I did it and the owner paid me under the table,” she shrugged, trying to smile a little. “Anything for my family.”
And with that, I growled, pulling the girl into my arms, blue eyes blazing. Because this woman was flat-out amazing. She’d been a pillar of strength to the people who meant the most to her for years now, these narrow shoulders had carried a burden that was meant for a much older woman, an adult. And yet, Becky was still sweet and innocent, trusting the world, and not a hardened, cynical criminal. It was incredible, the pure goodness that shone from her, the girl’s determination to do right, to honor her loved ones and provide for them as best she could.
So I pulled her into my arms again, stroking those soft brown curls.
“Honey, as my personal assistant, you’re gonna be paid really well,” I ground out, smoothing a big hand down her back. “How does fifty thousand sound?”
