CHAPTER EIGHT #2
“It is,” she agrees. “But men like Vinn, like Ray,” she tilts her head slightly, “they need strong women beside them.”
“Couldn’t you refuse?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not really. It was what was best for the families. Saying no to a man like Vinn wouldn’t have gone down well.”
Something cold settles in my stomach.
Families. Whispered deals. Ray knowing shady men.
This isn’t normal.
“So, if Vinn is the boss,” I say slowly, “Ray is—”
“Not Italian mafia,” she cuts in quickly, seeing my expression. “Not like Vinn.”
I exhale slightly.
“But,” she adds, not softening it, “he runs a huge, organised operation here. He’s powerful. Very powerful.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “I think he’s been playing things down,” I say, forcing a small smile.
Sofia studies me for a second. “Ray built everything himself,” she says. “He wasn’t born into it. No family legacy. He fought for every inch of it.”
I glance across the room at him. He looks different now. Not just intense.
But dangerous.
“How?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs. “By doing what he had to. Taking people down. Climbing to the top with Dale and Anika right there with him.” She smiles faintly.
“They’re like their own little unhinged trio.
” The way she says it so casually makes my stomach twist. She pauses, then her expression shifts.
“Oh god,” she says suddenly. “You didn’t know. ”
I shake my head slowly. My eyes flick back to Ray. To the man speaking to him. To the leather jackets.
To everything I didn’t see before.
“I just thought . . .” she trails off, covering her mouth. “I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t,” I whisper. There’s a beat of silence. “Can I ask you something?”
She hesitates. “Depends.”
“How did Anika end up like that?”
Her expression changes instantly. “I’ve probably said too much already,” she says carefully.
“Please,” I press. “Catherine wouldn’t tell me. Was it her ex?”
Sofia glances over her shoulder again, checking where Vinn is.
Then she leans closer, lowering her voice. “It wasn’t Luke,” she says. “That’s all I’ll say about him.” My heart pounds. “It was a warning,” she adds. “Someone came for Ray. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I feel sick. “They did that to send a message?”
She nods. “But he handled it,” she says quickly. “No one’s come for him since so don’t worry.”
“How?” I ask.
She holds my gaze for a second. Then she shakes her head. “I don’t ask questions like that,” she says quietly. “And neither should you.”
RAY
Wynter is quiet when I return to the table. Sofia excuses herself almost immediately, slipping back to Vinn at the bar, leaving the two of us alone in the booth.
I slide in beside her, watching her closely. Something’s changed. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Her posture is stiff, her eyes fixed on her drink like it’s the most interesting thing in the room.
And she won’t look at me.
“I’ve had a nice evening,” I say, testing the waters. “Have you?” She nods. My brow furrows. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
I lean back slightly, studying her. “You don’t look fine.”
“I am.”
“It’s just you seem . . .” I pause, choosing my words. “Off.”
“I said I’m fine.”
I exhale sharply. “Clearly not. Did I do something?”
She shakes her head.
Impatience sparks low in my chest. “Adults talk about why they’re upset, Wynter,” I say. “They don’t sit there sulking and giving one-word answers.”
Her head snaps towards me, eyes flashing. “Oh, you want to talk?” she bites out. Before I can respond, she leans in her face inches from mine. “Let’s talk about you breaking your own fucking rule,” she hisses.
I still. “What?”
Her jaw tightens as something flickers across her face. Anger? Fear?
Then just as quickly, it’s gone. “It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, pulling back and pushing to her feet. “Forget it.”
“Wynter—”
“I quit. I’ll pack my stuff and go.”
She turns before I can stop her, weaving through the crowd.
I sit there for a second, stunned, then I jump to my feet and head after her.
By the time I reach the exit, she’s already outside. The night air hits hard, cool and sharp, but she doesn’t slow.
“Wynter.”
She keeps walking. I catch her arm, not rough, but firm enough to stop her. “What the hell was that?”
She pulls her arm free. “Take me home.”
“We’re not leaving until you explain what—”
“Take. Me. Home.”
There’s something in her voice. I hold her gaze for a second longer, then turn and signal for the car.
The drive is silent. She sits as far from me as possible, staring out of the window like I’m not even there.
I watch her reflection instead. The way she presses her lips together. The way her fingers twist in her lap.
She’s clearly upset, maybe Sofia said something . . .
Either way, suddenly the thought of her walking away, has a feeling stirring in my chest I don’t like.
The apartment is quiet when we return. Anika and Sebastian are asleep which is a relief because I don’t want an audience for this.
Wynter doesn’t say a word as she walks straight past me and down the hall.
I give her a few seconds, then follow.
Her bedroom door is half open. I knock once before pushing it open fully. She’s already pulling clothes from her wardrobe, tossing them onto the bed in rushed, uneven movements.
The black card sits on her bedside table.
“Explain,” I say.
She doesn’t turn around. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters enough for you to quit.”
She exhales sharply, gripping a handful of clothes like she might rip them in half. “You’ve been good to me,” she says. “I appreciate everything. I do.”
“But?”
She finally turns, her eyes hit mine. “But I didn’t know,” she says.
“Know what?”
She gestures around vaguely. “All this was . . .” She sighs. “I thought you were some rich guy who ran a casino.”
“I am.”
Her laugh is hollow. “Yeah. Amongst other things.”
I step closer.
“I didn’t know what you actually do.”
Realisation dawns on me, and now I know just what her and Sofia talked about.
“I work,” I say simply. “That’s how I make my money.”
“Don’t,” she snaps. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend it’s nothing.”
My expression hardens. “Whatever you think you’ve heard—”
“Oh, come on, Ray,” she huffs. “It came from a very reliable source.”
I move in, closing the space between us, and catch her wrists before she can turn away again. She stills.
“I work hard,” I say, low and steady. “I don’t take days off. I don’t take holidays. I built everything I have from nothing.” Her breathing falters. “Whatever else you think you know,” I add, “isn’t important.”
Her eyes flick to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. There’s fear there now that wasn’t there before.
“Am I in danger?” she whispers.
I smile. “Maybe a little.” I step closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my lips. Close enough to hear the slight hitch as her breathing changes, quicker now, unsteady.
Her chest rises and falls faster but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“But only from me,” I murmur.
My hand lifts, fingers brushing her jaw before I cup it, tilting her face up towards mine. For a second . . . I hesitate. Not because I don’t want this. Because I know I shouldn’t.
Then I lean in and press a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth. She freezes. Then turns her head just enough that her lips brush mine.
That’s all it takes. I pull her against me, my body flush with hers as I kiss her properly, deep, hungry, everything I’ve been holding back, crashing through at once.
She gasps softly, her hands gripping my shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists as she pulls me closer instead of pushing me away.
Her mouth opens for me. I take it. Slow at first . . . then harder, deeper, my control slipping with every second she responds.
Her tongue meets mine, tentative for a heartbeat before matching me, and something low and dangerous twists in my chest.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop.
When we finally break apart, our foreheads hover close, breaths heavy, uneven.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, and she nods. “You’re my employee.” Another nod. “And you’re younger than me.”
This time, she doesn’t hesitate. She kisses me, rising onto her tiptoes. Her hands slide up to my shoulders as her mouth finds mine with a confidence that steals whatever control I thought I had left.
I move, guiding her backwards until the back of her legs hits the bed. She stumbles slightly, but I catch her, my hands tightening instinctively at her waist.
Her fingers trail down my chest, working open the buttons of my shirt one by one.
I let her take the lead, watching as her hands brush over my skin. I close my eyes. It’s been too long since anyone touched me like this.
When I open my eyes again, she’s watching me with uncertainty.
That hesitation should be my out. Instead, it drags me deeper.
“Wynter,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend.
She doesn’t answer, instead, she reaches for me again. And that’s it. Whatever restraint I had left, snaps.
I pull her closer, my hands firm on her waist, grounding myself in the reality of her standing here, choosing this.
“Are you sure?” I ask, forcing the words out. Because this isn’t something I can undo.
Her hands glide over my shoulders, pushing the shirt off until it drops to the floor. Her eyes lock with mine as she pulls at my belt, making quick work of unfastening it, then sliding it from the loops and adding it to where the shirt lay.
My grip tightens slightly. “I need to hear you say it.”
Her eyes search mine full of heat as she grips the hem of her dress and lifts it over her head. I inhale sharply, my eyes fixed on the black lace bra.
“Say it, Wynter,” I growl. “Because once we do this . . .”
There’s no going back.
“I’m sure,” she whispers.
I nod, relief flooding me as my mouth clashes with hers. Again. I push her back onto the bed.She’s fucking perfect and I need to taste every inch of her.
I run my mouth carelessly over her skin, kissing her shoulder, her chest, the swells of her breasts. I take her arms and place them over her head.
“Stay just like that,” I tell her. “Don’t move.”
I litter kisses over her face and work my way down her body. She squirms as I cross her stomach, nipping the skin. As I move down further, her legs fall open and I grin, running my tongue along her inner thigh.
I’m so close to her, I can smell her arousal calling to me.
I hook my fingers in her knickers as she runs her fingers through my hair. I smirk, climbing back up her body and leaving her underwear in place. She groans.
“What did I tell you?”
She scoffs but places her arms above her head, and I begin the slow process again.
This time, as I level with her underwear, the wetness is evident. I slowly slide them down her legs, then hold her legs apart and stare at the wetness.
When I lick her arousal from her smooth skin, she bucks against me, inhaling loudly.
I press my thumb on her clit, and she moans as I swipe my fingers through her folds.
I reach down to stroke myself, closing my eyes and inhaling her scent.
“You have to be quiet, Wynter,” I murmur, “because I need to taste you and I’m not gonna let up until you’re coming on my tongue. But we can’t wake Anika and Sebastian. Am I clear?”
“Umm,” she groans.
“Words.”
“Yes, Ray, loud and clear,” she hisses impatiently.
I grin to myself. I don’t know how the hell I’m so in control when all I want to do is eat her pussy and fuck her hard.
I hold her legs apart, pinning them to the bed. I run my tongue along her opening, tasting her juices for the first time. I hum in approval as she squirms beneath me.