When it Raynes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Frost Industries Book 1)
When it Raynes: Chapter 31

His words replay in my mind over and over again, and yet I don’t understand how this can be my life.

Three weeks ago, I knew of the Saint James family, but I certainly wasn’t part of it. Three weeks ago I heard the name Rayne Saint James and rolled my eyes because of his reputation, I wasn’t jumping through every hoop he asked me to. Three weeks ago, I’d never met Angelo Russo, and he certainly wasn’t sending people to kidnap me.

I close my eyes and take deep, steadying breaths. Three weeks ago I was a strong, independent woman taking care of myself, owning my past and doing everything I could to have the future I always wanted. And now I’m depending on the most dangerous man in Chicago to keep me safe.

“No.” The word slips from my lips before I can think better of it. I shouldn’t poke the bear. I shouldn’t refuse Rayne something I know will make him lose his mind, but I can’t accept this. I can’t accept the fact he has arranged for my belongings to be packed up and delivered here only a few days after he claimed me. The fact I hadn’t made any decisions about our relationship at all rings at the back of my mind. This is the stand I have to make.

“What do you mean no?” he growls.

“I mean no. I’m not moving in here with you. If I’m going to have security anyway, and there will be security here, why can’t I just have it at my apartment? We’ve been together for a matter of days, Rayne. We can’t live together, that’s not how this works.” I’m trying my best to remain calm despite my body and mind running a mile a minute.

“Emerson, if I thought you would agree to it, I would marry you today. Moving in together is me compromising.” He shrugs like what he’s just said is the most casual thing he’s said all day. “Even if Russo wasn’t a threat, I would have been doing everything I could to get you here permanently, it’s just moved up the timeline a little.”

“You’re insane.” I try to push him back a step, needing space to breathe. He’s always too damn close when we talk about important things. He railroads me and I can’t think straight when he’s breathing the same air as I am. “It’s convenient living there for my shifts at the diner. If I live here, I’m going to have to travel across the city to get to work most nights, that doesn’t make any sense.” I’m grasping at straws, but it’s all I can think of to buy myself some more time. As shitty as it may be, the apartment is in the perfect location. Close to the Center. Above the Diner. A few blocks from the club. Living with Rayne would just mean longer commutes.

“You’ve resigned from the diner effective immediately.”

“Excuse me?” Surely I heard him wrong. Surely those words haven’t just left his mouth.

“You’re not working at the diner anymore. You’re working and the Center, and you’re finishing school. You’ve been making yourself sick working so much and I won’t tolerate you making yourself ill.”

“Are you fucking insane?” I screech, using all my body weight to shove him back a few steps before fleeing out of the bedroom. I can’t think being so close to the bed he fucked me on just a few minutes ago with him naked as the day he was born in front of me. I need space. I need air. I need to get away.

“Probably.” His voice comes from a few steps behind me.

“I need that job, Rayne. I’m already down a lot of money from giving up the club, I can’t survive on the money I make at the Center.” Tears pool in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can’t break in front of him.

“You don’t need the money.”

I turn back to face him, forcing my eyes to stay on his face and not the rest of his chiseled body that calls for my attention. “Of course I need the money. Did you miss the part where my asshole ex put me in so much debt I’ll be lucky if I can retire at one hundred?” I shout. All hope of remaining calm and level-headed has gone out the fucking window with his sanity.

“Check your accounts.” He points to my phone on the kitchen counter where we left it last night.

It takes me a few moments to move and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m scared of what I might replace, or the overwhelming nausea I get every time I see the crippling debt in my banking apps. I cross to the kitchen, keeping an eye on Rayne as I go.

His eyes burn into my skin as he follows a few steps behind me. I think this is his version of giving me space, but the kind of space I need comes in the form of being alone in my apartment across the city. Somehow I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to happen no matter how much I kick and scream.

I swipe my phone off the counter and lean against the bench behind the island, hoping the mass of marble will be enough to keep Rayne away from me. I tap the screen a few times, taking deep breaths to calm myself. I don’t know what he’s getting at here, what he’s hoping to achieve from having me check my accounts.

At least until my eyes lock on the accounts that previously had numbers that are now sitting at a zero balance. The only account showing anything is my normal bank account, which seems substantially higher than the last time I saw it.

“There has to be some kind of mistake,” I murmur, clicking on the top credit card and looking through the recent transactions. Sure enough, a payment for the exact amount owing was made two days ago.

“No mistake, sweet girl,” Rayne says from in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed him move and now he stands so close I can barely breathe. It’s almost as if my lungs shrink when he’s near, as if he takes up all the air in the room and all that’s left is him.

I check another account and it’s the same story. Debt cleared. I repeat this over and over until I’ve looked at every single one of the lines of credit that Brad opened, each time my stomach sinks more.

All the emotions I felt a moment ago are amplified, but there’s one that courses through my veins, grabs hold of me, and demands to be put on a pedestal. Rage.

I’ve never felt anger so strong as I do in this moment. Not when my mom left us to start a new family. Not when she didn’t come to my high school graduation because her new husband had a party she needed to attend on the same day. Not even when I opened the first overdue notice and found out what Brad had done.

Not one of those moments compared to the pure, unadulterated fire flooding my body and taking over my usually calm body.

As calmly as I can manage, I place my phone on the counter and look around the room. I can’t run, not in what I’m wearing and not with the security the Saint James family has hired. But I can’t stay here either.

“Like I said, you don’t need the money. You can focus on the things you love, on the Center, on finishing your degree.” If he hadn’t just tried to buy me like a whore, I might think he was being sincere. It’s the excitement in his eyes, the way he smiles at me like I’m his whole world, the way he casually leans against the bench across from me that almost disarms me.

Almost.

“Rayne, I need you to listen to me, and I need you to listen really fucking hard,” I hiss. “I am leaving. I cannot stay here with you when you obviously see me as fucking whore. What? I sleep with you and then you pay me? Is that how this fucking works.”

His face drops slightly. “That’s not what this is, sweet girl.” Rayne reaches for me, his hand extending toward me as if our bodies connecting can make me feel anything other than dirty.

I flinch backward, slamming harshly against the counter. “Don’t touch me.” I hate the way my voice breaks when I say it, and the way I still long to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his bare chest, to feel the comfort I know he can offer me.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Emerson. I’ll never hurt you,” he says the words softly, but he doesn’t make another move toward me, sensing how close I am to losing my shit.

“You already have,” I whisper, and then I’m sprinting through the penthouse as fast as my legs will take me. I’ve never been much of a runner, but the idea of being anywhere near Rayne makes me feel physically ill, and so I press on. All I can hear is my feet slapping against the hardwood and my heart beating so hard it hurts, and it’s not until I slam the bathroom door closed and slide the lock in place that I allow the tears to fall.

I thought Rayne cared about me.

I thought I meant something to a man who was usually hard and ruthless.

I thought I deserved the happiness he could bring me.

But he doesn’t care.

I’m just another whore in what I’m sure is a long line.