8. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
When I get home, I notice that my cell has several texts waiting from Margot begging for updates. I can't bring myself to reply—even if she's probably asleep by now.
It's around three in the morning, and even though I feel exhausted, there's no way I can sleep.
I'm so angry at them, but even more so, I'm mad at myself.
After I shower again, successfully removing a layer of skin, I crawl into bed, staring at the wall.
I really hate them. I hate them so much that it makes me want to explode. But I also hate how much I loved them touching me. It's sick, and now I'm questioning my own sanity.
How will I look my parents in the face? What do I tell Margot? Should I report it to the Club Ecstasy owners?
I don't know where to go from here.
A few hours later, the sunlight starts to creep into the room, and I still haven't slept. I'm feeling drowsy and drained, but my mind is running so much that I can't seem to shut off.
Giving up on the concept of sleep, I do the only thing I can think of—I shower again and start cleaning the apartment.
The apartment is already fairly tidy, but I do a deep clean, collecting every speck of dust, wiping the high cabinets that I normally can't reach, changing the linen, and rearranging my entire closet. And when I've finished, I start cooking. I need to do a grocery shop, but I have enough ingredients to bake cupcakes, so that's what I do.
I make three dozen guilt cupcakes.
Every tiny piece of hatred, frustration, anger I have goes into my baking. I frost them in pastel colors, popping them into a container to take to work tomorrow.
I've avoided my cell for the entire day, and when I check at dinner time, I have more texts from Margot. Her messages are getting more urgent, now worried about my wellbeing. I know I should respond to her, but I know the second I do, she'll reply or call. I can't talk about what happened last night. I'm not ready to face reality.
Sometime after dinner, I also get a text message from Mom. At first, I panic. A part of me pictures Hawk telling her what happened, just to destroy me that little bit more. But I open the text anyway, relieved to find she's asking if I can water their plants when they leave tomorrow for Florida.
That's where I got my house plant obsession from. Ever since I was young, Mom taught me to garden. We'd spend hours on the weekends looking after her perfect garden and indoor plants. She'd take me to the garden nursery, letting me pick out my own, and teaching me what soil to buy. So, when I moved out of home, it seemed only right that I make my own little garden again. Unfortunately, living in an apartment complex was limiting, so I had to settle for house plants.
I send her a quick reply letting her know I'll look after them for her, before turning on the television and getting engrossed in some movies. When bedtime finally rolls around, I'm so exhausted from not sleeping the night before that I crash hard. Despite how tired I am, it doesn't stop the nightmares that haunt me of masked men and jacuzzis.
"Good Morning, Nick," I say warmly as I walk past his office. He looks up from his desk, suit perfectly fitted and pressed.
"You're late," he remarks.
I frown, checking the time on my watch. "No, I'm not. It's eight exactly."
"Right," he replies sternly. "I was here at seven-thirty. I expect my paralegal to be here before me."
I'm too tired and stressed for this bullshit. All I can muster is a quick nod, continuing my walk as I drop the containers onto the table in the center of the office. We have a designated staff table for everyone to use—sometimes for joint projects if the conference rooms are taken, or if we are having an office party. I line the containers next to each other, before a few colleagues race over to inspect the treats.
"You baked cupcakes?" Mary asks excitedly.
I love Mary. She's been here longer than the building, and by far the most senior of all legal secretaries. Her gray hair is always neatly pulled back into a bun, her tiny 4'11 frame dressed in some designer label that I can't afford.
"I did," I confirm, putting on a happy tone. "Happy Monday."
She looks up at someone approaching us from behind and as soon as I smell the cologne, I turn, spotting Nick.
"Cupcake?" I offer sweetly, gesturing to the containers.
He frowns, nose wrinkling. "I don't eat sugar."
"Your loss," Mary giggles, grabbing a pink cupcake and hobbling back to her desk.
Nick waits until she's out of earshot before thrusting some papers at me. "I need these filed with the Court this morning. I'll be heading off soon for my hearing. If Mrs. Giovanni calls, tell her I'll call her this afternoon. And if Mr. Martin turns up, I need you to get him to sign the settlement papers. They are in the file on my desk."
"Okay," I grunt, straightening the paperwork. "Do you need anything else done before you go?"
"Yes," he says, checking the time. "A coffee. Black."
He walks away before I can respond and I resist the urge to throw a stapler at his head. We don't fetch coffee and he knows it, but once again, his ego is so big I'm surprised he managed to get through the door.
I sigh, catching Mary's eye. She motions for me to go to her desk so I do, leaning down so she can whisper.
"I have some laxatives in my desk. You just have to slip one into the coffee and he'll probably shit himself in front of the Judge."
Snorting, I quickly cover my mouth. "Mary!"
"What?" she says innocently. "I remember what it's like working for those junior attorneys. I'd rather get my teeth pulled at the dentist without being numbed."
Luckily for Mary she works for one of the partners—Jason Burgston. In his forties, and clearly very young to be a partner, he's at least nicer than the baby attorneys. A no bullshit type of man who commands the room, but respects the hell out of his support staff.
I used to work for another attorney, but he left to work at another firm. Things were much simpler then. We had a great routine, understood and respected each other, and I enjoyed coming to the office. I was optimistic when he left that I'd be in good hands, but then Nick came along in his Gucci tie and shiny black shoes.
"Where's Jason?" I ask, noticing his office is empty.
"With a client downstairs," she remarks, clicking her mouse. "There's a partner meeting afterwards."
"Possible rumors about promotions."
I look over the partition to find Jenna listening to our conversation. A few years younger than me, she's also a legal secretary like Mary—albeit less experienced. But with Mary close by, she's in good hands.
"Great," I groan. "Is that why Nick is in such a twist this morning?"
Jenna's green eyes look over to Mary while nodding. "They only just told everyone this morning that it's happening. Secretly, I think they are trying to see how people react knowing the partners are coming. Change of attitude is a very obvious sign. No cap."
I tilt my head in confusion, gazing at Mary.
"It means no lie," she confirms and I laugh.
"You speak Gen Z?" I ask.
Jenna gawks at me. "You don't?"
"I'm a millennial," I state, holding my hands up.
"And I'm as ancient as the pyramids," Mary scolds playfully. "No excuses not to learn new things."
She takes a bite of the cupcake, looking pleased.
Jenna notices, head snapping towards the staff table before rushing over to grab a cupcake.
These are my type of people—the ones who eat cupcakes at eight in the morning on a Monday.
"Just be prepared," Mary mumbles, wiping her hands. "I don't think Nick is going to be in a good mood later."
Lunchtime rolls around and I've managed to get the important work done that Nick had left. I'm scanning my emails, nibbling on a sushi roll when someone taps on my office door.
I look up, expecting anyone but… Margot?
"What are you doing here?" I choke, spitting out little bits of rice and seaweed into my desk bin.
She puts her hands on her hips, staring at me heatedly.
"Well, I had to come and do a welfare check since you haven't bothered to return any of my messages."
I whine, getting her an apologetic look. "Sorry, I've just been busy. How did you even get up to the floor?" I laugh.
Margot holds up a tiny blue box. I frown, not connecting the dots.
"I told them I had a delivery. The doorman was cute so I gave him my number."
"That's a security breach," I grumble playfully. "But thankfully I don't think serial killers are usually drop-dead gorgeous thirty-year-old blondes."
She walks into my office, sitting on the chair across from me. She crosses her legs, looking at me expectedly.
"Well?"
"Sshh," I wave at her, looking through the door to see which staff are still around. "Not here."
Margot rolls her eyes. "It's practically dead out there. Your colleagues are out enjoying the weather while you're holed up chomping down on sushi."
"Busy day—"
"So you keep saying," she interjects accusingly. "Come on, Rayne. Give me a little credit. I think I know what's going on."
I raise an eyebrow, grumbling. "Pretty sure you don't."
"Look, if the party wasn't what you imagined, that's okay. But at least you got to experience it," she pauses, looking at me suspiciously. "You did go, didn't you?"
I swallow, leaning back into my chair. I didn't expect to be confronted and having to have this conversation right now.
"Yes, I did," I finally tell her. "It was… nice. The club is really pretty."
"Pretty?" she repeats with a frown.
I nod, voice perking up. "Lots of purple and pink tones. And the waiters were handing out food and drinks, dressed in expensive lingerie. The emcee was gorgeous too."
I know I'm rambling, throwing all information at her in an attempt to distract her from her actual questions. Margot sees right through this though, smacking my desk lightly to get my attention.
"Rayne," she says sternly. "What happened?"
Looking out the door again, I stand up and close it, just in case anyone is nearby. Sitting back down, I sigh, letting my face drop.
"It wasn't what I expected," I confess.
Margot gives me a sympathetic glance. "I know it can be uncomfortable going outside of your routine. But the main thing is you tried."
Oh, bless her heart for trying to be supportive.
"It's not that," I tell her, looking away.
She frowns again. "What is it?"
"It's…" I stop. I don't know how to say this.
Silence falls between us but she doesn't push for me to continue. She waits patiently, recognizing the seriousness of it all.
Finally, I muster up the courage to speak up, hoping that she doesn't freak out.
"I was paired up with… Hawk and Jett."
I flinch, waiting for the fall out. Nothing comes, and I peek through squinted eyes to gauge her reaction. Margot just blinks, frozen in place.
"Your brothers?" she asks slowly.
Disgust rolls through me at the reminder. " Foster brothers," I remind her, trying to convince myself that it's not as bad as it seems.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's practically the end of the world. Several showers lately and I still feel tainted.
"Ohh," she exhales. "You didn't do anything with them though, right?"
"Of course not," I quickly answer, a wave of guilt rolling through me as she breathes a sigh of relief.
She smiles. "Good. That would be so wrong."