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“It is. You aren’t accident-prone, are you—What was your name?”
“Rayne,” she says icily. “Rayne Garner.”
“Are you accident-prone, Rayne Garner? Will I have to worry about you falling all over me?”
Her jaw clicks. “No. Definitely not.”
I bite back my smirk as my phone buzzes in my hand. I check the message quickly. This one is just from Sonya.
SONYA: Rayne Garner was late and Natalia Dyer shaved her head after submitting her headshot. Should I have them replaced?
The one named Natalia is standing next to Rayne, gently elbowing her about something. Rayne grins at her before turning her lethal glare back on me.
For a second, I consider letting Sonya release Natalia just to bother Rayne. She looks good when she’s all worked up. I wouldn’t mind seeing her channel that emotion into something a bit more… physical.
But I resist. Sonya is too old-fashioned for her own good sometimes. You’d think working for a Bratva don would soften her to things like purple hair and tattoos.
I type back a simple response.
No.
Then I pocket my phone and look back up at Rayne. “I just got word you were late, Miss Garner.”
She sucks in her cheeks. And fuck, what a sight that is. Her lips are full and pink. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because if you’re going to be a problem, I’ll take care of you right now.”
The room brims with nerves and confusion. I’m making a spectacle, but I can’t help myself. Last night, I pushed Rayne to the edge.
Now, I want to know what it looks like when she falls.
Plus, pissing Stefano off wouldn’t hurt. After I drove Rayne away from the hotel, German went back to deal with the guard, but he was gone. Probably hobbled back to Stefano on his broken leg to tell him what happened. I couldn’t care less. I don’t actually need Stefano as an ally.
“Some asshole broke my bike last night,” she says pointedly. With no real remorse, she presses a hand to her mouth. “Excuse the language. But if you had met the guy, you’d understand.”
As much as I’m enjoying our audience, I’m tired of talking in code.
“Everyone is dismissed,” I say suddenly, waving a hand in the air. I keep my eyes on Rayne. “Except for you.”
She’s doing an admirable job of maintaining composure, but her pale complexion reveals all. Pink flushes across the tops of her cheeks and her nose.
I smirk. “Don’t worry, Rayne. I won’t hurt you.”
Unless you ask nicelyhangs in the air between us as the rest of the staff clears out to get changed and get to work.
As soon as we’re alone, Rayne backs away from me. “If you’re going to fire me, just do it. Otherwise, I have work to do.”
“Your ‘work’ is to do as I say.” I lean in, voice low. “Didn’t I warn you? I always get what I want.”
She straightens, her stained shirt stretching tightly across her chest. God, this woman is amusing. The way she responds to me. Every word is a jab, every expression a tactical move.
I’m used to life being quiet when I’m here at the compound. My life in New York City is so much more fast-paced, but I come here for the peace and the quiet. To get away. Clear my head.
Rayne is the opposite of that. I’ve barely known her for twelve hours, but she’s already cropping up in places she doesn’t belong.
“Did you know who I was last night when we met?” she demands.
“Do you mean before you spilled the drink on Viktoria because you were too busy staring at me? Or are you talking about when you invited me into your house and all but begged me to stay?”
