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But I keep going. Now it feels like I have to. “He didn’t get very far, thankfully, because a woman appeared from nowhere. I think she was just stepping outside for a cigarette, but her presence was enough to scare him off. She was wearing the nicest dress, and the alleyway was filthy but she didn’t care. She sat down beside me and pulled me into her arms. Let me cry there for as long as I needed to.” Fuck, to this day, I still remember her scent. It was warm and welcoming. She smelled like white picket fences and freshly cut flowers and Sunday dinners around the kitchen table. Everything I’d never had. “When my tears had dried, she took this necklace off her own neck and fastened it around mine.” My fingers fly to it, bringing the memory to life. “She told me it kept her lucky, and now it would keep me lucky too. At first, I refused—because what if she wasn’t lucky without the necklace anymore? What if she suddenly started losing in the casino? But what she said next has stuck with me forever. ‘Luck is believing you’re lucky. This will just give you a little boost when you forget it.’”
Rafe’s silent, mind simmering and swinging between sadness and violence. Now that my worst childhood memory has left my mouth, it feels like it grew claws and is scraping my skin raw.
“Say something,” I grit out.
Eventually, his large palm engulfs my jaw. “I’ll kill him,” he says tonelessly, and then the bed dips and I’m cold. He stands at the end of it, scooping up his slacks. He takes a deep breath, glaring at the wall. “I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him.” He pauses. “Slowly.”
“Rafe—”
“Nico will know who he is. Maybe that bastard Tor, too. The Grand has security everywhere. I know it was a decade ago but—”
“He’s dead,” I blurt out, sitting up on my elbows.
His pauses, lifting his eyes to mine. “What?”
I curl my hand around my necklace. “Less than a week later, he was staring back at me on the obituary page inThe Devil’s Coast Herald. That was the first time I realized that, yes, I amtruly lucky.” I shrug. “I’ve believed it ever since.”
It feels like he stands there forever, slacks in one hand, phone in the other. When his cell screen grows dark, he tosses it on the side table and drops to his haunches beside me.
“Fuck,” is all he says.
“Fuck,” I repeat in agreement.
He shakes his head, a grimace on his lips. “I have to take a walk or something. I’m too pissed off to sleep now.”
I roll onto my knees, looking up at him. “Then we won’t sleep.”
His gaze falls to mine, softening. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I’m sorry too.”
His jaw ticks. “Don’t you dare say sorry.” He shifts over to me, gripping my hair and nuzzling his face in my neck. “You’re not a girl that says sorry.”
“Not even for buying you ugly socks?”
His laugh tickles my skin, and somehow it lightens the mood a few shades. “They arefucking ugly.”
“Will you wear them?”
“If you want me to.” He pulls away, expression darkening again. “I didn’t realize we were doing presents.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement. “Uh, that’s fine. I guess your black Amex, your six-figure Breitling, and the shit-ton of cash you paid me to shake my ass in your face will have to do.”
He watches my hand slide down his chest, tensing when I run a finger across the waistband of his boxers. “Or…I’ll take this.”
He searches my expression. “Are you sure?”
I consider this for all of half a second. Truth is, I feel like a weight has been removed from my shoulders, now that I’ve shared my secret. I want to chase this high with something that makes me feel even better.
“What’s the alternative?” I snap his waistband and it slaps back to his stomach with a loudthawp.“Talk about our feelings?”
His eyes narrow, dropping to my lips. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls, pinning me down on the bed. “My Christmas present to you is that I’m going to fuck you so hard you—”
I fake a yawn and put my hand on his face. “Boring. I’ve got ten of them. Did you keep the receipt?”
He hisses something about me being a cheeky bitch, then his hands catch mine, and he holds my wrists above my head. As he studies my face, something dark glints in his eye. Self-preservation makes me attempt to twist out of his grip.
His glare heats as he runs a languid path down my chest, stopping at the hemline of Rory’s shirt. He swallows. “I’ll fuck you soft, then.”
