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I shove the phone back into my pocket and look up at John and Emerson staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I can write you a check now? Otherwise, if you would prefer cash or bank transfer I can organize that?” I look around and hope they don’t ask for cash. Five dollars would get stolen if it was left unattended in this place, let alone what I assume would be a few grand.
“That’s very kind of you, Rayne.” Emerson seems anything but impressed, but that same polite smile is pasted on her face. I wonder how hard I would have to push for her to unleash the other side of her. The one lurking at the edge of her carefully preserved exterior. Would I have to make her hate me? Or could I push her just hard enough for her to snap?
Would she hit me? Maybe slap me across the face?
The thought makes my cock jump and I know I need to think about something else before one of them notices my very obvious hard-on.
“A check would be great. Thank you so much for your generosity.” John reaches for my hand and I quickly move to shake it.
“Don’t mention it.” I smile. My intentions are anything but pure. No. I have a feeling I would use any excuse to be as close to Emerson as possible until I can work her out of my system.
I say my goodbyes but can’t find an excuse to touch her again. There’s plenty of time though. Before my car door is closed, I have Everett’s number dialed.
“What’s up, brother?”
“I need a favor.”
“Is it really a favor when I work for you?” he scoffs.
I scrub my hand down my face. “It is when it has nothing to do with Frost.”
“I’m intrigued. Go on.”
“I need every bit of information you can get me about Emerson Miller.”
“Consider it done.” And a moment later the line goes dead.
Everett is the best tech guy I’ve ever come across, and he has a no questions asked policy that gets him extra points with me. If he wasn’t obsessed with my little sister I would like him a whole lot more, but beggars can’t be choosers. I start the car and peel out of the parking lot before the hubcaps on my Mercedes can be stolen.
Hopefully it won’t be long before I can find out everything there is to know about Emerson.
3
Emerson
Ididn’t sleep at all last night.
Not one wink.
And I wish I could say it was because of my money troubles, or work, or even the assignment I somehow managed to submit with three minutes left in the deadline.
But no, it was none of that causing my insomnia. It was Rayne Saint fucking James that had me tossing and turning throughout the night. The way my body reacted to his. The heat that pooled between my legs when he smiled at me. And the thought that I would have to see him most days for at least the next month plagued me into the early hours of the morning where I finally admitted defeat and got out of bed.
After speaking to Dad after Rayne left yesterday, it seemed there was no end date to his community service, and that thought excited him. He thought that if we had a good relationship with Rayne, somehow his family would become a permanent sponsor of the Center. And so far so good on Dad’s theory seeing as the gala is now sold out, and somehow the press had already got hold of the story.
I’ve been in the office for twenty minutes and I’ve already answered two calls from the press wanting exclusives about Rayne volunteering for us.
The phone rings beside me and I think about ignoring it, but I can’t do that. What if it was one of the kids and they needed something?
“Good morning, Chicago Center for Youth. How can I help you?” I put on the best customer service voice I can manage, but I sound as tired as I feel.
God, what I wouldn’t do for a full night of sleep, to just forget the world for eight hours and allow my body and mind time to rest. That doesn’t look likely though.
As it is, I’m trying to work out how I’m going to work three jobs, go to classes, do assignments, and somehow throw the finishing touches on this gala in the next two weeks. I was barely able to get the night off, and I still have to figure out what the hell I’m going to wear. It’s a black-tie event, and my wardrobe is the exact opposite of black tie.
“Emmy?” The voice on the other end of the line makes my stomach lurch and I’m tempted to end the call without hearing another word. Honestly, I’m not sure what makes me continue the call past the first word, because I don’t have anything to say to the asshole on the other end of the line.
“What do you want, Brad? And why the fuck are you calling me here?” I growl. I can’t deal with him on a good day, let alone when I haven’t slept. My thumb itches to hang up on him, to end the call before I can even hear the bullshit he’s about to spew, because that is exactly what it’s going to be. It will be some shit about how he owes someone money and he just needs a loan, just for a few days.
