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“How much would you normally get in a night?”
“It depends on tips, but normally a few hundred on a good night.” I find myself answering before I’m even conscious of it.
Rayne nods as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. A moment later, he’s pulling a wad of cash out of the black leather and handing it to me.
“I can’t take that.”
“Yes, you can.”
I scramble off his lap before he can stop me. “No, I can’t. We’ve been… I don’t know, whatever we are, for twelve hours, I most certainly cannot take money from you.”
Rayne sighs as if finding my inability to understand exasperating.
The feeling’s mutual, buddy.
“I can see I’ve lost you somewhere along the way.” He stands and crosses to where I’m standing, backing me up until I’m pinned against the wall the way I was last night. “Your health and safety are my number one priority. You can’t go to work because your safety would be in jeopardy and that is not something I am willing to negotiate on, you’re worried about money, I have money, problem solved.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Problem not solved. Problem abso-fucking-lutely not solved.” I push against his chest, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t even budge for that matter. His muscles ripple under my hands and I fight the involuntary shudder threatening to take over.
“I don’t see the problem.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you don’t. Everything I’ve got, I’ve worked for. I can’t just take money from you, that’s not who I am!” I basically shout.
Dad is out back, so he won’t hear, and the kids are probably still fifteen minutes from starting to arrive.
“You’re not going back there, Emerson. I will not allow you to walk into the fucking lion’s den. Do you know the shit Russo has his grubby hands in?” Rayne growls.
I shake my head, because while I’ve heard the rumors, I have no fucking idea. I know he’s into drugs, guns maybe, but outside of that, I’m clueless. The way Rayne is looking at me with barely contained rage and possession, but behind that, behind the almost black irises that captivate me so completely, is fear. Rayne doesn’t strike me as someone that’s scared of much of anything. He's strong and imposing, and his entire demeanor screams to not fuck with him, but the idea of me being in danger, of someone hurting me, that puts fear in his eyes, and the significance of that isn’t lost on me.
“Good.” He blows out a breath. “I’m no saint, but next to him, I look like one. I need you to take this money and never go back there. I know you’re independent, but I need you to do this for me.” It’s the plea in his voice that disarms me. Rayne is asking me to trust that whatever Russo is into is far worse than anything I can comprehend, and practically begging for me to let him take care of me.
I look at the wad of cash in his hand, my entire being telling me not to take it, but what if he’s right? My mind wanders to the darkest things I’ve heard on the streets over the years. Women and children going missing, drive-by shootings, drugs, dead bodies showing up in dumpsters. The way he’s looking at me makes me think about all the kids that have gone missing over the years. Kids that were at the Center every day like clockwork, and then one day they weren’t anymore.
“I can see your pretty little head trying to put pieces together. Don’t. You don’t want or need to know about the darkest parts of Chicago.” Rayne’s voice is soft, his fingers trailing from my shoulder to my hips. “Please take the money. It’s not charity, it’s not a hit to your pride, it’s selfish because I don’t want to lose you before I’ve even had the chance to have you.”
I take a deep breath, knowing there’s no way I can say no to him. I finally nod, looking down so I don’t have to look him in the eye, somehow my fragile ego can’t take that. “Okay, I won’t go back, and I’ll take the money. Thank you.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’ll pay him back, but even if I were able to actually do that, which given my current financial state doesn’t seem likely, I know enough about Rayne to know he wouldn’t take it.
He lets out a sigh of relief, as if he was ready for me to keep fighting. “Thank you, sweet girl.”
I can’t bring myself to look at him, the shame burning me from the inside out.
Rayne’s fingers brush down my cheek before gently tipping my face up to meet his. “Don’t hide from me, Emerson. Don’t ever hide from me. I want all of you, and nothing you do or say is going to change that.”
For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me. He’s looking at me like he wants to consume me. But instead, he takes my hand in his and places the wad of cash in my palm. “If you need more, you come to me, okay? Don’t even think about going back to that club.”
The urge to break our eye contact tugs at me, but I nod, unable to force my body to look away.
“Good. Now what can I help with so you can go home and get some sleep?”
12
Rayne
Once Emerson agrees to take the cash, I can finally breathe again. As soon as she told me where the marks came from, I knew I had to talk her into quitting, but getting her to accept the money was an uphill battle. It reminded me how different she is from the women I normally go after.
Usually I go for women who care more about my bank account than what I can offer them and looking back at it, that was probably why I never went back for seconds. But Emerson is different. The hesitation that was so clear on her face as she fought her own battle of wills before agreeing to put her pride to the side so I can keep her safe. Even as we work side by side, ticking off the final things for the gala, I can see how the decision is weighing on her, but she doesn’t go back on it, doesn’t even mention it.
“Is your dress going to cover those bruises? Or maybe some bracelets?” I ask as her sweatshirt rides up to uncover the marks that make my blood boil.
