“Nothing happened between us, if it’s where you’re going with this. When’s my first appointment?” he asked, bending his head to analyze his design, hoping Vivienne would get the message.
“The girls who want the matching pawprints are coming in about an hour, and then there’s a kid who wants to complete a sleeve but wants some advice and suggestions beforehand. In the afternoon, Adrianna is coming to finish the tiger piece.”
“All right. Let me know when they get here.”
“Yes, boss. Someone’s cranky,” he heard Vivienne murmur as she left him.
“I’m not cranky,” he shouted. “Just fucking tired,” he mumbled. Rayden rubbed his face. And uncertain on how to deal with the situation. In any other relationship, he’d take the lead, but with Betty he was walking on the thinnest ice. He had enough information about her to know she had to be marked by her life with Antonio. She was interested in him. Last night’s kiss clearly showed so, but she was also terribly frightened, and it wasn’t just of losing her apprenticeship. He’d told her it wouldn’t happen, but she still asked for distance.
Rayden groaned. Now what? She’d arrive at any minute, and he didn’t know what to do? Act as if nothing had happened? Apologize? Kiss her senseless? Tie her up and beat her until she begged for him to fuck her? All of the above. Rayden looked up at the ceiling. His head pounded.
“Hey, Rayden. Betty called. She’s sick.” Vivienne gave her a disapproving glare from the doorway.
Rayden swallowed his curse. He’d scared her off.
“So she’s not coming in?” he asked.
“Not unless you want her to make everyone else sick.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Okay.” He was a prick of the biggest kind.
“I know it’s not really my business, but as your friend, I gotta ask, what did you do to her?” Vivienne placed her hands on her hips. “I know your lifestyle and—”
“We kissed,” he interrupted.
“Only kissed?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“Was it awful?”
“Best kiss of my life.”
“So, she didn’t like it.”
“I would say she did, but she was scared. She doesn’t want to fuck this apprenticeship up.”
“Looks like it has already been fucked up if she isn’t coming, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Rayden sighed.
“So what are you going to do?” Vivienne asked.
“I have no idea,” he admitted, wincing.
Vivienne sat down on the nearest chair and stared at him, mouth slack.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but clearly it exists.”
Rayden snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just, you know, chemistry.”
“Me? Ridiculous? Rayden, if it were just about sex, you’d either be chasing this woman down or you’d already fucked her. You wouldn’t be sitting hear moaning about what to do.”
“No. It’s just, she’s been through a lot. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You’ve never cared before.”
“Just because I haven’t expressed it doesn’t mean I haven’t,” Rayden growled. His muscles quivered, anger simmering beneath the surface. You couldn’t fall for someone in less than seventy-two hours. It was the kind of crap that happened in fairytales and rom-coms. This was real life. All he knew about Betty was a tiny sliver of her shitty past, her love for tattoos, her lack of musical skill and that the sound of her laughter made his heart flutter.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“Shouldn’t you be managing the front desk?” he snapped.
Vivienne laughed and stood up. “And now you’re angry and proving my point, boss.”
Rayden ignored her and focused instead on his sketch. No sooner did he manage to concentrate than something would remind him of Betty.
The pawprint girls came ‘round, and their jet-black hair made him think of Betty and her blue highlights. At noon the kid who wanted to complete his sleeve came in for a consultation. From the moment he saw him, he knew one of Betty’s designs would be what would work for him. He fished out Betty’s folder from the box where they’d dumped everything from the fair. She’d wanted to carry it herself, fearful of forgetting it, but he insisted she deposit it there. She hadn’t been wrong. At lunchtime, he called her.
“Hey, Betty.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted you to know I showed a customer one of your designs and he loved it. I hope to see you tomorrow so we can work through it together and start showing you the ropes of the shop.”
By six o’clock he’d heard nothing from her. An empty feeling sat in the pit of his stomach, and after finishing the tiger piece he was twitching so badly, he knew he couldn’t sit still for another hour.
“I’m going to the gym and then home, Viv,” he announced.
“Okey-dokey. Don’t worry too much, boss. She’ll come around.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter Sixteen
Music blasting, Rayden sped down the road. He was going to go home, grab his gym stuff, and then burn the nervous energy pumping through his veins. He took a left and gaped. He was in Betty’s street.
“Fuck,” he swore.
He should drive back the way he’d come, except, he couldn’t. Something gnawed at his gut, and he had to see her again. Parking behind her, he walked up to her house and knocked on the door. There was no answer.
“Hey, Betty, it’s me, Rayden. Just want to see how you were feeling.”
He knocked again, louder this time and hoping she didn’t think he was a creep or an idiot.
“Betty, I know you’re in there.”
Abruptly, the door was flung open. Rayden jaw dropped. Betty stood in front of him wearing nothing more than a long t-shirt, which barely reached her mid-thighs. Her hair was up into a messy bun, and she was makeup free, her pallor sticking out along with her red-rimmed eyes.
“What’s wrong? Viv said you were sick. I came to see if you were okay.”
Her eyes welled up with tears. “He’s dead.”
It took a moment for Rayden to process what she’d said.
“Shit.” Going inside, he shut the door with a kick and pulled Betty into his arms. She doubled over weeping. Gone was the confident woman filled with comebacks whom he’d gotten to know in the last few days.
“It’s okay, baby doll. It’ll be okay.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s dead because of me, because he saved me.”
Rayden drew back. “Who?”
“Antonio,” she sobbed.
Rayden stiffened. Antonio? The Antonio who had abused her? The one who had been killed by police during a raid ages ago? Had she loved him? Was that why she was so upset? Did she still have feelings for him?
“Betty,” he said, at a loss for words.
Disentangling herself from his grip, she staggered to her living room, where she flopped down on the floor next to a small collection of newspaper clippings.
Rayden crouched at her side, glancing at the bold headlines.
DRUG LORD DEAD.
POLICE CRACK DOWN ON DRUG MAFIA
MOB BOSS KILLED
A picture of a smirking Antonio appeared on all the papers. Rayden swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Betty, I—”
“He’s dead.” She dragged her knees to her chest. “I saw it happen, and every year on his anniversary he comes back to haunt me. He blames me,” she whispered, rocking back and forth.
“Baby doll. That’s not possible. Ghosts aren’t real.”
She shook her head.
“But memories are. And most of the time I can forget him and the fact he ever existed. It was part of the witness protection program, become a new you.”
Rayden rubbed his forehead. Witness protection program? She hadn’t even realized her slip. It made sense, though, if she had been involved with the mafia.
“Bu
t, this time of year I can’t forget. I can’t,” she continued.
Rayden set his jaw and pressed his lips together. His heart ached for Betty, and he needed to do something.
We’re leaving,” he declared.
“Leaving?” she repeated, keeping her gaze on the newspapers.
“Betty. We’re leaving.” Rayden lowered his voice to the tone he used when he issued a command and wanted it followed. Betty’s attention snapped to him, and he realized what he needed to do to help her.
“Going where? He’ll follow me.”
“No. He won’t. Have you eaten?”
“No,” she said in a small voice. “I’m not hungry.”
“Drinking?”
“Just water.”
“Good.”
“But I want something stronger. God, Rayden, I can taste it. Taste the last shot of vodka lingering in my mouth.” She covered her face.
Rayden placed his arms under her armpits and lifted her to her feet.
“Listen carefully, baby doll. I’m not going to leave you here like this. We are leaving. We’re going to go to your room. You’re going to get dressed, and I’m going to pack an overnight bag for you. Understood?”
He grasped her shoulders.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected, softly. Breath bated, he waited for her reaction to manifest itself. The moment her brain registered what was happening her entire demeanor changed. Her gaze became alert again, and her posture gained strength.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “Thank you.”
Rayden exhaled. “You’re welcome, doll. Let’s go.”
They headed to her bedroom, and while she got dressed, he picked out some clothes for her. He didn’t want to spend too much time choosing, but he finally settled on a cute halter dress with a flower print, a matching set of bra and panties, and an oversized t-shirt with a band logo for her to wear around his house. Satisfied, he went into the bathroom and snatched her hairbrush and toothbrush. He glanced at the makeup, but there was too much of it and he wasn’t sure what she needed.
“Ready, baby doll?”
Betty nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
Rayden smiled. Grabbing her purse, he opened her front door.
Chapter Seventeen
“Come in,” Rayden said, motioning for her to step inside his home.
“Thanks,” Betty mumbled. They were the first words she’d spoken since they’d left her house. While he’d driven, she’d lapsed into an unsettling silence, no doubt plagued by painful memories. He’d resolved to make to make her forget them, if only for tonight.
“Make yourself at home, doll.” He pointed at her shoes. “I know you like to go barefoot,” he said.
She nodded and kicked off her sneakers. He removed his boots.
“Follow me.” He led her through the living room and up the stairs. “I’ll show you the house later, but first, I’m going to draw you a bath and you’re going to eat something. After, I’ll give you the grand tour. Understood, baby doll?” Rayden grasped her hand and squeezed. He was grateful when she returned the gesture. “Here we are. This is my bedroom. The guest room doesn’t have a tub, and I want you to soak.”
They walked across the beige carpet, their feet sinking into the soft material. Rayden switched on the light, and set the custom-made bathtub to fill. He turned toward Betty, who remained unmoving in the doorway.
“Take off your clothes, Betty,” he ordered.
She rolled in her bottom lip, and a visible shiver shook her body. He was a dimwit. How could he have been so crass? She’d been a slave to a man who knew nothing about boundaries, and here he was dictating her around. He was in front of her in two large strides. Gently, he grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger. Eyes the color of the sky met his.
“I have one rule, baby doll. If something is too much for you, I want you to say ‘red’. I will not be disappointed. I will not be mad. I will not be sad. If you’re nervous, unsure, need me to go slower, ‘yellow’. I will not be exasperated. I will not be angry. I will not be sad.” he repeated each word slowly, emphasizing the not. She had to understand there was nothing wrong with taking things slowly. This was a two-way street. “If you are not happy, I will be unhappy. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Incapable of holding back, he brushed his mouth against hers. The hairs on his arms stood, electricity flashing across his veins and making his dick jerk.
“Does taking off your clothes make you uncomfortable?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then, do as I asked,” he said softly.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
To give her some space, he went to check on the bathtub. It was half full, but the temperature was pleasing. He glanced at Betty. She stood naked, arms at her side, waiting for his next command. His cock thickened, lust taking possession of him. She was a sight to behold. From the sensual curves of her full breasts down to her rounded tummy and her thick thighs. Her pale skin mingled with the ink of her tattoos, somber blacks and whites as well as reds, blues, and even purple. Mandalas, roses, a dragon that coiled over her hip down to her calf. He itched to touch her flesh, caress it, worship it, kiss and lick it until she begged him to fuck her.
“You’re breathtakingly beautiful, baby doll.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Come into the bathtub.” He offered her his hand. Sauntering forward, she took it. He was tempted to pull her into his arms right then and there, but he refrained. This wasn’t about him. It was about Betty and making her relax and forget. He helped her into the bathtub. Once seated, she let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. She immediately opened them. The fear etched in their depths was painful to witness.
“Baby doll.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please.”
Rayden sat on the edge of the tub. He had planned to go cook something, but it could wait.
“I’ll stay.”
Sweeping off his shirt, he reached over her and grabbed the shampoo. The touch of Betty’s wet hand on his chest startled him.
“So many tattoos. So many stories,” she said, running her palm across his torso. His nipples hardened to tiny points, and he had to suppress a shudder of pleasure.
“I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours.” He squirted shampoo onto his hand and gently lathered her head, hoping to help her relax. She remained silent, as if lost in thought. Rayden considered which anecdote to tell her.
“Would you like to know about my butterfly?” she asked, surprising him.
“I’d love to.”
Chapter Eighteen
“To this day, I can still see them,” Betty said. “Mica and Emerie. They were twins, barely turned six years old. They had blonde hair with red highlights when the sun shone on it, and freckles on the bridge of their nose. They had both lost their front tooth at the same time, and they loved showing it off to anyone who cared to pay attention. Their favorite thing to do was chasing butterflies in the park behind our house.”
She sighed, sinking into Rayden’s touch and the old memory, which stuck in her heart like a prickling thorn she could no longer pull out.
“They always got sick at the same time, too. Mom joked it was the twin curse, but she didn’t mind it. That day, they were running a high fever. It was ridiculously cold for the time of year, you know? I wanted to stay home, but she said I had to go to school. ‘You have to finish your education, Becks. Make me proud.’ I grumbled about it as kids do, but I gave her a kiss and went anyway. I was dozing off when the principal came to get me.” Betty took in a deep breath. It was weird how she remembered the exact moment. She could see the board in her mind. They’d been going over fractions. What was half of one third? She was bored to tears, and her hands were cold. Did Douglas have a crush on her? Someone sniggered. Then the door opened, and Mr. Phillips walked in dressed in the ugly brown suit he always wore. He went directly to Ms. Charlotte and
whispered something. It must have been bad because her hand flew to her mouth. Becky.
“What happened?” Rayden said softly.
She shook her head, dissipating the memory of the nightmare.
“There’d been a fire. The electric heater and the humidifier had been too much for the old wires, and they’d short-circuited. The whole thing went up in flames. The autopsy said they’d died from smoke inhalation. My mom had left them alone and gone to the drugstore to get some medicine. She never forgave herself and took her own life after a year. My dad, who had always flirted with alcohol, became a full-fledged functional drunk. We moved to a tiny little apartment in the shady part of town. I didn’t make any friends with the kids from my school, but the guy at the liquor store knew me by name.” She took in a deep breath. The words rolled out of her, eager to escape, to be heard, to be free of the constraints of her mind. They pushed past her tongue and out into the world like rain clouds too heavy to continue. She had to let it all out.
“It’s where I met Antonio,” she said, her voice unlike her own, with a waver she recognized but with a newfound strength. Rayden’s fingers stilled in her hair. She turned to face him.
“Betty, you don’t need to talk about this,” he said, softly.
“I want to. I have to.” She curled her fingers over his wrists, imploring him. “I can’t stop.”
Rayden’s gaze softened. “Go on.”
She settled back into the tub, mindless of the goosebumps on her skin.
“I’d already started drinking when I met Antonio,” she said. “Nothing drastic. An occasional sip here and there from my father’s bottles to help me sleep at night. Bedtime was always the worse. I would remember Mom and the kids laughing, refusing to go to bed, and I would cry until my eyes were raw. He never noticed, Dad, that is. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He was just not there. Always in a drunken stupor. Sometimes he’d tell me I looked like Mom. Then, he’d crack open another bottle and drink himself to sleep. I was desperate to make it all go away. Him. The memories. The pain. I started stealing money, and when I went to the liquor store, I’d buy two bottles. One for me and one for dad.”
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