Raff was back on the desk chair.
I made my way to the end of the bed and sat down, exhaling hard.
“Okay. Let’s have it.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because everything about you interests me,” he said, making my belly do a strange little tightening thing. “Last time I checked in, you were living in a penthouse, doing Pilates, spending your weekends getting pampered, basically living your best life.”
“I was,” I agreed.
Raff watched me for a minute, something close to understanding in his eyes. “So, what’s his name?”
“Drake Holland. But it wasn’t like that.”
Well, it mostly wasn’t like that.
“It doesn’t matter if it was,” Raff assured me. “Wouldn’t think any different about you.”
He probably wouldn’t.
I couldn’t claim to know Raff very well. All our interactions had been surface-level. But everything I did know about him suggested he was not a judgmental kind of person.
“Come on. Let me shoulder some of it before it brings you to your knees.”
“I make a nice living with the Murphy brothers.”
“I figured. Those are nice shoes,” he said, glancing down at my feet.
He was making this a lot easier than I’d anticipated.
“Each year, right after tax time, I get a bonus.”
“Very structured for a criminal organization.”
“I decided a few years back to start socking away that bonus each year.”
“Boss bitch shit. I’m familiar. And by ‘familiar,’ I mean in an abstract kind of way. My money loves leaving me behind.”
“And my grandfather used to tell me that very little in life gives you as much power as a deed. So I decided to buy something with it once I had enough.”
“A house?”
“Land. Before all these developers came sniffing, land was available for a song around here. No one wanted to build this close to a prison. I got twenty acres for… less than it would cost to buy a house.”
“Look at you making mogul moves. Are you planning to build a house there?”
“I was.”
I had it all picked out: the floor plan, the counters, floors, types of windows, cabinets, furniture, curtains. I had it planned down to the dang soap dishes and sponges.
“What got in the way?”
“Drake got in the way.”
It had just been a normal day. I’d been leaving a Pilates class and was considering driving out of town to hit up my favorite sushi place to bring home for dinner. Maybe indulge in a little ridiculous reality television. Shop for bath blankets.
“Excuse me,” a man called, making me turn. I found a very attractive man: tall, fit, wearing a three-piece suit, with well-groomed chestnut hair, brown eyes, a charming, straight white smile, glasses that almost immediately made me figure he was smarter than he probably was, and a great watch.
