7. Raleigh
CHAPTER 7
Raleigh
I’m too angry and humiliated to call for help. In fact, a large part of me hopes no one ever planned to check in on Derrick again. Let me rot to death in here, please, so I don’t have to explain how horny and stupid I was to solicit sex from a prisoner of the family.
Unfortunately for me, Iris is nothing but thorough, and she does come to question Derrick hours later, probably just in time for breakfast. When she opens the door and sees only me sitting slumped against the wall-
I don’t think I’ve ever been so ashamed of myself. And it’s possible Iris has never been so ashamed of me either, which is saying something.
Iris and I have always had a playfully contentious relationship, like a very put-together aunt with a troublesome niece she loves but doesn’t know how to fix. Besides, I’ve never been one to seek affection, especially from other women. Who needs it when you’ve never known it because your mother died before your earliest memories? That being said, well…
I’ve never told her this, and I’d die before I ever do, but Iris is the person I admire most in the whole world. She’s capable, both physically and mentally. She’s gorgeous, with her impossibly long legs, silky platinum hair, perfect skin, and hourglass figure. And she’s respected by everyone around her. In my absolute lowest moments, I’m so jealous of her it makes my stomach hurt. In my best moments, I imagine being just like her.
All of that makes this moment ten times more horrible.
“Did he get away?” I ask, too mortified to pretend I’m not to blame.
Iris crosses her wiry arms over her chest, jaw set. “Considering I just now learned you let him out?” she shoots back. “What do you think?”
I think I’m ready to die, right here, right now. “I’m sorry-”
“I do not want to hear it,” Iris cuts me off. “Up. Now.”
I get to my feet with all the enthusiasm of a man about to be executed, and walk past her out of the cell. Iris stops me with a hand on my shoulder, turns me to face her. Looks me over for injury. I can tell by the twitch of her eyebrows and the purse of her lips when she spots the hickey Derrick must’ve left on my neck when he sucked there last night. I’m blushing from my hair to my toes, begging the earth to swallow me before she’s finished.
It doesn’t, which is fucking rude.
Finally, Iris looks me in the eye. “Can you at least explain to me what the hell you were thinking?”
Absolutely not happening.
“Please don’t tell Tommy,” I beg instead.
“Give me one single, even slightly acceptable reason why I shouldn’t.”
I open my mouth. No words come out.
I’ve got nothing.
“Thomas left me in charge of the estate while he’s gone, Raleigh,” Iris says. “That means that your safety is my sole responsibility until he gets back. Putting aside the million and one terrible things that could have happened when you put yourself in the same cell as a prisoner- do you have any idea how incompetent this makes me look?!”
I swallow, but my throat is bone dry and all it does is hurt. “Please,” I say again, my voice barely a croak.
Iris’s jaw clenches. She studies me for a long time, considering every angle. Finally, she says, “Tell me exactly what’s going on, and we’ll handle it together. Without Thomas.”
My mouth falls open. How am I supposed to believe that? She’s Thomas’s right hand, his most trusted confidant. Is she really offering to keep this secret for me?
Iris’s eyes soften. She must guess my thoughts, because she says, “Raleigh, I’ll make you a blood oath if you want. Your business is your business. As long as it doesn’t endanger the family, I don’t need to involve Thomas. To be entirely honest, I don’t want to involve Thomas, not while he’s on his honeymoon, and not if it’ll sour things between you.”
That makes my stomach pinch. My relationship with my brother has never been a close one. Thanks to our father, Thomas was kept in isolation to learn how to be the best mafia boss, and I was a girl who had to be kept pure and ignorant. We grew up strangers with similar lives but distinct problems, and we butted heads all the time after our father finally died. Especially over the matter of how much freedom I should have in my own life. Thomas wanted to give me more than I’d had, but not enough that I’d be in danger. That balancing act felt like a leash around my neck, with my brother trying to find just the right amount of slack to give me.
I resented it, and I resented him, and it was impossible for Iris not to see.
But ever since Clara came back into our lives, it’s gotten better. I’ve been learning how to trust my childhood best friend again, and Thomas has kind of learned the same. He’s started letting me make my own decisions about what I want.
The only problem is, I’ve spent twenty-five years without that power, and now I have no idea what to do with it. How to use it without hurting everyone around me.
Like Iris.
My eyes prickle with welling shame. I owe her the truth, at least. If she uses it against me, then that’s fair too.
“I met Derrick at the bar after I left the wedding,” I say, choking the words out of a tightening throat. God, was it really only two nights ago? “I knew who he was, and I thought I could do something to… I don’t know, ruin his life.” I can’t bring myself to mention that I’d planned to get laid before doing any of that ruining. “I let him take me back to his house, and then Silver’s guys broke in and knocked us out.”
I swallow again, bracing against this next part. It’s even harder to do than before. “When we woke up, this guy, Silver, started threatening Derrick. He claimed that he was Morgan Speare’s son and that he wanted revenge, but if Derrick gave him inside information on Thomas, he’d let Derrick live.”
Iris’s eyebrows go up, and I expect her to interrupt here, but she only waits for me to continue. I almost wish she would stop me.
“Derrick wouldn’t do it. He didn’t give in to Silver’s threats. Silver stepped out at one point, and one of his guys took over. He made- h-he made us…”
Deep breaths, Raleigh. It wasn’t a big deal. You had your first time in front of armed thugs in a dirty room with a man you’d been planning to sleep with anyway.
Something hot slides down my cheek. Iris’s mouth is a tight line. I focus on that, not on whatever’s going on with my eyes. Derrick protected me, and Iris got me out. Nothing besides sex happened because it didn’t have a chance to.
“They made us have sex,” I choke out. “In front of them.”
Iris absorbs that. The only sign it upsets her is the flexing of her hand, her fingers stretching open so wide it looks like it hurts, then clenching into a white-knuckled fist. She’s probably thinking she’s glad she killed everyone in that house.
I’m glad she did too. If only I could’ve seen Silver’s dead body and been sure. He might not have been the one to give the order, but he put us in that room, and those goons belonged to him.
“Derrick protected me,” I blurt, because I need to remind myself that I wasn’t hurt. “He made sure I was okay. And then you and Paul showed up and everything was fine-”
My voice gives out, dissolving into a whimper. Iris pulls me into her arms, so tight I can barely breathe. Not that I was breathing properly before. I cling to her, the most unshakable person in my whole world, and she rubs my back in slow circles, lets me bury my face in her shoulder, and strokes my messy hair.
When we pull apart, there’s a little wet stain on the shoulder of her silk blouse. I quickly smear my hands over my eyes, blinking hard to clear whatever moisture lingers. How pathetic am I?
Iris takes a deep breath. I brace myself for whatever she has to say about my ordeal, but she just asks, “Derrick refused to work with Silver?”
I nod quickly, relieved by the impersonal question. Iris nods too, thoughtful. “Then Thomas doesn’t need to know.”