CHAPTER TEN
RAY
The date wasn’t bad. My only problem was that she wasn’t Wynter. Which is fucking ridiculous. One night with her, and now, she’s all I can think about.
So, I sat through dinner, listened to Heather talk about her father’s companies, nodded in all the right places, then I dropped her home and came straight back to the casino.
If I’m going to feel like this, I may as well do it somewhere familiar.
I’m halfway through a drink when I glance up, and there she is.
Wynter.
Sitting at the bar, talking to Joel.
Something in my chest tightens. A pull that I don’t fight. I move before I can think better of it, sliding onto the stool beside her. Joel nods at me and makes himself scarce.
“How was the date with Heather?” Wynter asks, glancing around like she expects her to appear.
“She went home.”
“She’s classy,” she says lightly, though there’s an edge to it. “You won’t find her vomiting on tables or putting out on the first date. Bet you didn’t even get a kiss.”
“On the cheek,” I say. “If that counts.” I smirk.
She doesn’t. She stares down into her hot chocolate instead.
“I didn’t leave Anika alone,” she says after a moment. “Catherine stopped by. They were catching up. I didn’t want to intrude on family time.”
There’s that word again. Family.
I exhale slowly. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She doesn’t look at me. “I know you don’t apologise often,” she mutters. “You’ve made that clear.”
I ignore the jab. “I’m serious, Wynter.” She looks at me properly now.
“I was out of line,” I continue. “Everything I said earlier . . . it wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel.
” Her jaw tightens slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I shouldn’t have spoken about you like that.
Not to Anika. Not to anyone.” My voice lowers.
“And definitely not to you.” The silence stretches, but I push on anyway.
“And what happened between us . . .” I hesitate, then force myself to meet her eyes.
“I meant it when I said I was drunk, but not in the way it sounded.”
Her brows draw together slightly. “I wasn’t out of control,” I explain. “I knew exactly what I was doing.” My jaw tightens. “And I wanted it.” Her breath catches. “I said that to hurt you,” I admit, “because you pulled away and I didn’t like it.”
I almost surprise myself at the honesty that slips out. “I don’t handle rejection well,” I add bluntly. “So, I lashed out.”
She studies me carefully now. Weighing it. “Funnily enough,” she says slowly, “it wasn’t the date dig that bothered me.”
I nod, knowing her next words before she’s said them. “The fact you made me sound like some cheap fuck,” she continues, her voice sharpening. “The comments about me not being family . . . and the way you told Anika about us like it was nothing.”
Every word lands. I don’t interrupt as she continues. “You don’t have to point it out,” she adds. “I know Catherine’s amazing. I know you wish she stayed. And I know you don’t think I can do the job the way she did.”
I shake my head immediately. “That’s not—”
“But you hired me,” she cuts in. “And when I offered to leave, you told me to stay.” She shrugs. “So, I’m staying.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “I want you to.”
My words surprise her. She hides it well, but I still see it.
“I’ve only been here a couple of months,” she says, more quietly now. “But I like Anika. And Sebastian.”
“They like you too,” I tell her.
A beat passes. I lean slightly closer. “What about your boss?” I ask. “Do you like him?”
She glances at me sideways. “He can be a bit of an arse,” she mutters.
A smile pulls at my lips. “Yeah,” I say. “I’ve heard that. I’ll try to be less of one.”
“Anika thinks I should tell you about Josh,” she says, watching me carefully.
I tense. I don’t want to hear about her boyfriend. But she doesn’t give me the chance to stop her.
“He died,” she adds quietly. My frown deepens.
It’s not what I expected her to say. “There’s not really a word for it,” she continues, her voice uneven.
“If I’d been his wife, I’d be a widow. But I wasn’t, so I guess he’s just .
. . a boyfriend who died.” She lets out a soft, bitter breath.
“But that doesn’t feel like enough. Not for what we had.
” Her eyes flick to mine. “It feels like I’ve been cheated somehow. ”
Something shifts in my chest. The jealousy I felt earlier disappears, replaced with something sharper. I reach out before I can stop myself, my hand settling on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” I say, gently.
It’s not a word I use lightly.
I don’t pull her into me, even though I want to. I glance around, deciding it’s too busy, there are too many eyes on us.
“Come on,” I say instead, pushing away from the bar. “Follow me.”
I lead her to my office. It’s quieter here and private.
I pour us both a drink, handing one to her before leaning back against my desk. She drops into my chair like she belongs there, a small smirk tugging at her lips when I don’t tell her to move.
Normally, I would. Tonight . . . I don’t.
She looks out across the city, the lights stretching endlessly beyond the glass.
“How do you get any work done with this amazing view?” she asks.
I watch her instead. Not the view.
“Easy,” I say quietly. “I don’t look at it. How did he die?”
“Hit by a drunk driver,” she says quietly. “He died at the scene.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “We were arguing that night, so I didn’t get to say goodbye . . . or apologise for being a cow.” Her voice cracks slightly. “He died thinking I hated him.”
“He didn’t,” I say firmly. “He would’ve known.”
“That’s what Aunt Lucy says.” She shakes her head. “But I needed to tell him myself. I needed that chance . . . and I didn’t get it.”
A silence settles between us.
“So, when you pulled away last night,” I say carefully, “that was because of him?”
She nods. “I feel guilty. I know I shouldn’t . . . it’s been a while. But I can’t help it.”
I reach out, twisting a loose strand of her hair around my finger, grounding both of us in something physical.
“Were you together long?”
She nods again, a small smile touching her lips. “Since school. Childhood sweethearts. I was fourteen, he was sixteen. Same friends, same life . . . we were never apart.”
Her voice softens. “Until that night.”
I release her hair, taking a slow sip of my drink. “Well,” I say quietly, “I’m glad you weren’t with him.”
She frowns slightly. “Why?”
“Because then you might not be here.”
Her gaze lingers on me a second longer than before.
“On a scale of one to ten,” she says, tilting her head, “how dangerous are you?”
I almost choke on my drink. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Where did you hear I was dangerous?”
She smirks. “I can’t reveal my source. But apparently, you’re well respected around here.” Her tone is light. It puts me on edge.
“Being respected and being dangerous are two very different things,” I say evenly.
“Is Vinn above you or below you?”
I shake my head, laughing again, though it’s tighter this time. “What are you talking about? Vinn’s a friend. A businessman. Same as me.”
She watches me like she doesn’t quite believe that. “So, if I did something really bad,” she says, turning slightly in the chair, “you wouldn’t kill me?”
I study her, trying to read her. She looks calm. Curious. Like this is nothing more than conversation, but there’s a hint of playful mischief in her eyes.
I step closer, turning the chair so she’s facing me fully. “How bad?” I ask.
She shrugs, that little smirk back in place. “I don’t know . . . say I was your wife. And I cheated.”
Something dark flickers low in my chest. “My wife wouldn’t cheat on me.”
Her brow lifts. “You sound very sure.”
“When would she get the chance?” I take her glass from her hand and set it aside, my movements slow, deliberate. “She wouldn’t leave my side.” I place my hands on either side of the chair, boxing her in. “And when she did,” I continue quietly, “it would be with someone I trust watching her.”
“Ah,” she murmurs, “and what if she had an affair with the bodyguard?”
My lip twitches. “You watch too much Netflix.”
“It happens.”
“Not to me.” My voice drops. “Not with what’s mine.” Her breath catches. “But if she did,” I add, leaning closer, letting the words brush her skin, “I wouldn’t ignore it.”
Her eyes darken. “Would you punish her?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze. Let the silence stretch. “I wouldn’t have to,” I say quietly. “She’d already know she’d crossed a line she couldn’t come back from.”
She holds my gaze, unflinching with curiosity. Like she doesn’t quite believe what I’m capable of. I should walk away. Prove her wrong. Instead, I lean in close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath. She’s daring me to kiss her, her eyes burning into mine with an untamed heat.
“Careful,” I murmur. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Her lips part. She doesn’t pull back.
And then our lips crash together as I pull her into my arms. She wraps her legs around me and I lift her onto the desk, running my hands up her thighs and tugging her flush against me.
There’s no doubt she’s addictive and as I take her on my desk, I know I can’t just walk away from her like others.
There’s something different about Wynter.
WYNTER
I’d hoped the first time with Ray had been a fluke. That he’d be terrible the second time around. That way, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about enjoying it.
But he’s not. He’s better. Infuriatingly so.
He knows exactly what he’s doing—how to touch, how to move, how to make my body react in ways I didn’t even know were possible. Things I’ve never experienced before. Things Josh never did.It’s not a criticism. It just makes me realise how inexperienced we both were.
And Ray . . .
Ray is something else entirely.
This time, when it’s over, there’s no rush to pull away. No sharp words. No distance. He adjusts my clothes slowly, carefully, like I might break if he moves too fast. Then he presses a soft kiss to the side of my head.