Chapter 10
Thealina
It’s just coffee. Sickly sweet coffee and another sickly-sweet pie—peaches this time. All in a bid to sweeten Rafe up enough that when I ask him of something, I won’t be hearing any ‘no’s’ from him. It’s just coffee.
Foolproof.
It’s also another excuse to see him.
My feet stumble in their stride on the cobblestones outside the door to Rafe’s office. I didn’t just admit that to myself.
Impossible. It is his brains I’m after, nothing more.
Right.
My shoulders square themselves, my chin raises, and I push through the door, greeted by a dishevelled looking Rafe.
Dishevelled but extremely… smiley. A smile so wide all his pearly teeth are on display, a couple crooked ones at the bottom. Endearing.
Shunning the stomach flutters, my head swivels from side to side, eyes darting around the room.
“What?” Rafe glances around the room with me. “What is it?”
‘Who are you? You don’t smile like that…’
He tilts his head to the side, that smile as wide as before. “You just bring the best out in me.”
I choke down the urge to giggle, instead raising a brow, and my quill.
‘Lies. You look unkempt. Did you get robbed?’
“Paperboy stole my lunch money and shoes.” He wiggles his toes on the wooden floor, I can’t help the grin spreading on my face as I take him in. He’s beaming. Content. Light.
Free. It’s contagious.
What in the embers happened in the past day for such a shift in Rafe.
‘Want me to egg him on his next paper round?’
Rafe gasps, hand on his heart. “You’d do that for me?”
‘One condition.’
“Oh, of course. There are always conditions with you.”
Something inside my chest expands with the way he talks like he’s known me for longer than a few days. Talking to me like he’s my friend.
I don’t have many of them. No-one really, when I think about it. My husband had been the only person I’d spend time with for as long as I can remember.
“Hey,” his thumb grips my chin, my body frozen, only my eyes move to lock onto his concerned ones. “Where’d you go?” His voice is soft, and that thing in my chest flourishes a little more.
Shaking away the pesky sorrow, I scribble.
‘One condition — I’ll deal with the paperboy. You invest this for me.’
Some may say I’m too trusting, or crazy, or maybe both, to hand Rafe my pouch of coins, but I heard investing coin, makes coin. It also keeps it safe, and away from my husband and his mother for when I need it.
Also, I don’t know of anyone else who’d do this for me. Now seeing as I know what Rafe is and is conspiring to do with me, I’ve plenty to hold over his head should he betray me.
“Done,” he says, palming his heart. “Your investment is safe with me. I’ll buy some shares within the transport sector. Business is booming and will continue to grow.”
This was easy. Too easy.
He must see the wariness on my face because he chuckles, swinging an arm around my shoulders and ushers me to his desk. The heat of his proximity sears my covered skin. My neglected body and mind crave the warmth. The masculine scent and strong form.
I shake my head, dispelling the ludicrous thought.
“Trust in me. I know transport, and I know business. Here, sign this.”
He slides a sheet of parchment across the desk, I scan it quickly, too afraid to admit I don’t know what the heck I’m looking at.
“This is your deed, and certificate.” I peek down at the paper again, quill in hand. It does appear authentic. “No one can take this from you. Once you sign, you hold a certain amount of shares in my company, which you can cash out, anytime, with dividends.”
Not sure what dividends are but sounds like he knows his stuff. His gentle tone is a comfort too, my soul telling me I can trust him.
I sign on the dotted line as a smile grows on my face. Not because I’ll make some extra money, but because I can smell the freedom.
He mimics my joy, and for a long moment we behold each other. Content in this space between us. Until his eyes become a little glassy, cheeks a little rosy, chin a little wobbly.
‘Everything ok?’
“Fuck,” he swipes his eyes. He’s weeping? “Yeah… just some dust.”
‘Liar. Ain’t no dust here with the amount of wood polish I smell.’
He chuckles. “Just makes me sad, Lina.”
Lina? He called me Lina. Not Thealina. Not Thea — Lina.
Dismissing the flutters, I wave a hand to urge him to elaborate. He moves to the window, putting his back to me, though I see his hand swipe his cheeks some more.
I reach around his large form to slide my book up the windowpane in front of his face, resting it against the glass.
‘Do my home-made pies make you weep?’ It’s peach this time.’
His laugh is breathy, and it eases my anxiety when I see his shoulders shake once more.
“Well reminded, I’m famished. Thank you.”
He’s a fool if he thinks his deflection goes unnoticed. He moves back to his seat, unwraps the cotton covered peach pie, dips his finger in the syrup and sucks it off. The act has me compelled, like the other morning when he grazed my hair and licked the cream from his fingers.
It’s… seductive; but it shouldn’t be. The way his eyes close, throat moans, tongue darting out to lick the juice. What’s worse is I don’t think he realises what he’s doing.
I’m a pervert.
I swallow. I blink. I scold myself internally.
‘I have to go. I’ll be late for my shift. Thank you for managing my investment.’
I leave in a wake of wind, but not before I hear him call out to me.
“It’s going to be a good shift, Lina.”