Chapter 28
RAPHAEL
Ihave negotiated hostile takeovers with less apprehension than I feel walking into Long Creek beside Belle.
It was absurd.
I have addressed boards, investors, and city councils.
And yet my pulse was uneven. Because this matters, because he matters to her. If I mishandled this, I didn't know if I could recover from it.
She signed us in at the front desk. The receptionist greeted her by name.
She was known here.
We walked down a wide hallway that smelled faintly of disinfectant and overcooked vegetables. The walls were painted a soft blue meant to soothe. Framed prints of sailboats and lighthouses lined the corridor.
Belle’s hand slipped into mine as we turned the corner.
It settled me in a way I can’t help but cling to.
The game room was half full. A few residents sat at tables working puzzles while the fluorescent light hummed faintly overhead.
She spotted him first.
“There he is,” she murmured.
He was at a round table near the window, hunched slightly over a thousand-piece puzzle of a mountain landscape. His hair was thinner than in the photographs I’ve seen on Belle’s phone. His posture was slightly bent.
But his hands were steady.
He looked up as we approached.
“Dad,” she said brightly.
His face lit up. That alone was worth the trip.
“Well, there’s my girl,” he said warmly.
He stood slowly, carefully. Belle hugged him, and he held on a beat longer than expected, as though confirming she is real.
Then his eyes shifted to me.
“And who’s this?”
Belle squeezed my hand once before stepping back.
“Dad, this is Raphael.”
She does not say husband. Not yet.
“Raphael,” he repeats thoughtfully. “French?”
“Yes, sir.”
He studied me with sharp eyes that flicker in and out of clarity.
“You look like you own something.”
I smiled at him. “I own hotels.”
“Ah,” he nodded, satisfied. “Explains the shoes.”
Belle snorted softly beside me.
We sat down at the table with him. The puzzle was missing a cluster of sky in the upper left corner. He gestured for me to join.
“You good with puzzles?” he asks.
“I am patient,” I replied.
“Same thing.”
Belle rolled her eyes affectionately.
He begins telling me stories almost immediately. About Belle when she was little. About rebuilding carburetors in his garage. About the year he took Belle to the Ohio State Fair and won first prize with vomit on his shoes from Belle riding one too many rides.
He told me like it was last week. Like the decades hadn’t slipped.
Belle laughed at the right moments.
I listened, because it is important. He was important.
The love between the two of them was evident. It was in the way he looked at her when she wasn't speaking. In the way that he still called her “kiddo.” This is what anchored her. The love of her father had driven her for so long.
As we worked on the puzzle, my gaze drifted toward the lobby. A woman was vacuuming near the reception desk. Her uniform was what caught my attention. Merry band of Maids, the same service Belle worked for.
I watched her for a moment.
It wasn’t uncommon for Long Creek to outsource cleaning, but I still filed it away. Tripp Whitaker’s family holdings include regional service contracts. Connections began forming quietly while I returned my attention to the puzzle.
Belle was smiling at something her father just said. Her hand rested lightly on his arm. She looked . . . lighter.
This was the right decision.
I was concerned I had fractured something beyond repair the night I lost control. But it would seem Belle is giving me a second chance, one I do not intend to waste.
The rest of the evening unfolded easily. Dinner was simple. The conversation was softer than it had been in weeks. Belle curled into my side on the couch afterward, her head tucked beneath my chin as we half-watched something forgettable on television.
It felt . . . normal, domestic even.
When she falls asleep, her breathing deep and even against my chest, I remain still for a long time.
While I did not wish to disturb the peace, my mind would not be quiet.
There was something wrong. I didn’t have proof just yet, but my instincts were very rarely wrong when it came to business matters, at least.
Tripp Whitaker’s voice on the phone. The resistance over a simple paycheck. The uniforms at Long Creek. The way Belle stiffens when his name is mentioned.
I had built an empire on reading patterns others overlook. And there was a pattern here, and all arrows led back to Tripp.
Carefully, I slid out from beneath her and settled a blanket over her shoulders before moving down the hall.
My office greeted me in darkness. I switched on only the desk lamp.
I did not intend to break the law. I intended to understand.
The Whitaker portfolio pulled up quickly.
Layered holdings. Sub-companies. Quiet acquisitions routed through shell entities.
Retirement facilities. It would seem they were acquiring assisted living facilities. Five in Ohio alone, and one of them was Long Creek.
I leaned back slowly.
I didn’t like it. I continued to look and clicked in through quiet back channels. It was all there. Cleaning contracts. Vendor agreements. Internal oversight. It is all contained within the same structure. Whitaker Industries.
My jaw tightened. A few keystrokes later, I was deeper in the system than most auditors ever reach.
I reviewed invoices and payment schedules, along with care level adjustments. That was when I found Belle’s father’s file.
He was coded for step-up care review, and it was flagged as pending because the account was behind. Because she had been drowning to keep him afloat.
The thought settled cold in my chest.
This was not charity. This was a correction. A transfer was anonymized through holding channels. With a matter of clicks and a transfer of money, I paid the past balance and prepaid for the next year.
I closed the file.
I would deal with Whitaker separately.
Footsteps sounded softly in the hallway. Belle appeared in the doorway, hair tousled, wearing one of my shirts that fell mid-thigh.
“You vanished,” she murmured sleepily.
“Ma Belle, what are you doing?”
She stepped inside and leaned against the desk. The lamplight cast her in warm gold.
“You’re brooding,” she said softly.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I allowed myself the faintest smile.
She moved closer, her hands slid over my shoulders, and down my chest.
“You don’t get to disappear after a good night,” she murmured. Her fingers hook into the fabric of my shirt. “And you don’t get to hide in here.”
“I was not hiding.”
“No?” she challenged gently.
I slide a hand to her waist, pulling her closer between my knees.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I said quietly.
Her eyes soften. “I’m awake now.”
I studied her for a long moment. Then I draw her closer, mouth brushing her collarbone.
“Perhaps,” I murmur, “Ma Belle, I should take you back to bed.”
Her breath caught softly. She pressed closer, hands sliding into my hair, lips finding mine in a kiss. The desk edge presses into her thighs as I lift her easily, settling her there.
She laughed softly against my mouth. “Maybe you should take me right here.”
“I like the way you think,” I said as I slowly moved my hands up her thighs.
Her fingers trailed down my jaw before pulling my face up and kissing me. The kiss deepened slowly. Heat was building.
I swiped at my desk, making room to lay her back. She was propped up on her elbows with her legs spread wide open before me. She was perfection. From the intoxicating look in her deep brown eyes down to her painted red toes, she was a curvy goddess.
I ran my hands all over her, up the arm covered in derby-inspired tattoos, down her chest, between her perfect breasts. I continued down over the mound of her belly and to the patch of brown curls before I pushed her strong thighs wide.
Her pink pussy glistened before me. I lowered and lay a long, leisurely lick, and her hand fisted in my hair.
“Ma Belle, you really do have the perfect pussy,” I said before I lightly traced my tongue over her clit. Her legs instinctively tried to close, but I held them open. I was going to feast.
I covered her pussy with my mouth, licking and sucking as she writhed.
I could do this forever. That thought spurred me on. I would do this forever. There were still some things to figure out, but I would figure them out. Belle would be mine.
I sucked her clit into my mouth and flicked my tongue over it. Belle cried out. Her legs trembled as she shook. I could do this all night . . . and I just might.
When her climax finished, I stood and pulled her to her feet before kissing her and pouring all my intentions of the life I wanted to create for us. When I finally stopped and pulled back, she had a happy, dazed look on her face.
“You are so beautiful, Ma Belle.”
She sat down and looked at me as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.
We weren’t done. I pulled her close and kissed her, sliding her off the desk.
“Turn around, hands on the desk.”
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Bossy.”
I held her gaze, not giving in. She bit back the smile, trying to curve her lips as she turned. Her full, plump ass was on full display, and I was tempted to bite it. I squeezed my dick through my pants at the sight.
I ran my fingers up and down her dripping slit and undid my pants with my other hand. I pull out my cock and begin to slide it between her legs. Not in just yet, but she felt so good. I want to take my time.
I spread her cheeks and looked at her, all pink and glistening. I was tempted to lick it again, but I was ready to fill her.
I started to push in when she rocked back into me.
I pulled out completely and spanked her ass. Damn, the jiggle was everything.
She gave an irritated huff and looked at me over her shoulder.
“I’m in control. I’ve got you.”
I gave her perfect ass another spank, then said, “Hands on the desk.”
She did as I said, and I lost the little restraint I had left. I plunged deep into her divine pussy.
I grabbed her hip with one hand, and with the other, I slid up the dip of her back, between her shoulder blades, until I grabbed a fistful of her hair. Then I began to thrust into her, holding her in place. Her ass jiggled with every thrust, which only made me push harder.
“Oh, god. Raph,” she moaned.
I tightened my hold and thrust even deeper.
“I’m going to come,” she panted.
“You like it when I take control.”
She started rocking back into me, fighting for more control. This little minx. I spanked her again.
“Fuck, Raph!”
“Tell me you like it.”
“I — like — it,” she panted.
“Good, now come.”
She cried out, and I felt her walls clench around me as she soaked my cock.
“That’s right, baby. Let me take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
At the last squeeze of her pulsing sex, I followed her right over the edge. I groaned as my release took over. I went rigid until I collapsed onto her back and pressed her into my desk.
I caught my breath as I kissed her temple.
“Fuck, Raph. That was so good.”
I pulled out and sat back in my chair, pulling her onto my lap.
She turned and looked at me. Her eyes were so full of love, I didn’t know if I deserved it, but I was going to do everything to keep it. Then she kissed me. It was tender and real and so passionate.
Once she broke the kiss, she stayed close, her forehead pressed to mine.
“Was that okay? I should have asked before I spanked you.”
She sat up more, and I ached to pull her close, even with her on my lap. This amount of distance was unacceptable.
“You can spank me anytime you want.”
“I knew you liked me being bossy.”
I saw her delicious deviant spirit dance behind her eyes, before she smiled and gave a little shrug. “I think I like knowing you can handle me . . . and still be in control.”
“Say it again,” I said, pulling her close.
“No.”
At that, I tickled her sides as she squealed, rubbing her perfect ass on my lap. I pulled her in for another kiss before I started getting us dressed.
“Let’s go to bed, and I can show you who’s in charge there, too.”
Tonight I intended to make her come all night long before we fell asleep, tangled in each other.
But tomorrow, I would begin dismantling Whitaker.