06: The Date

Rayne

“Boss, we’ve found him.”

Rayne smirked. He had never claimed to be a good man. Never expected flowers from anyone. Everything he touched got ruined, and anyone who dared him got destroyed.

“Bring him in,” he said to Lorenzo after taking a puff from his cigarette.

Carlo was brought in, and even before Rayne saw him, he could already smell the fear oozing off the man. “Imagine running all the way from Italy to Paris? Sometimes I wonder why people do things without the balls to own it. Do you know why, Carlo?”

Carlo’s eyes were red when Rayne finally turned around to face him. The man was pushed to kneel before him. “Boss,” he sputtered, eyes teary and lips trembling.

Rayne remained calm. “I asked a question, Carlo, so answer me.”

“I... I’m sorry, boss. It was not intentional... I... I swear.” Carlo stuttered again, tears streaming down his face and sweat trickling down his forehead, already making a mess of Rayne’s Persian rug.

Fucking pussy.

His anger flared, itching to dart a bullet into Carlo’s skull for the audacity alone. If it wasn’t already clear, Rayne hated when things weren’t done his way. Not for any noble reason—it was just the De Luca blood in him.

“Where are my goods?” he asked, his hand already reaching for his gun.

Carlo’s eyes widened. “I didn’t want to do it, I swear—it was him! He forced me!”

Now he had Rayne’s attention. The man leaned back in his chair, interest sparking in his eyes. “And who is he?”

Carlo blinked, glancing around like he’d be butchered for uttering the name.

“You don’t want to talk?” Rayne was taking his time now—odd for him, considering he usually put a bullet through a head long before his targets got this far.

“Boss,” Carlo sputtered again, eyes wild with fear of the unknown.

Rayne already had guesses. And goddamn it, if it was actually him, then a war was brewing in the streets of Crown City.

“Actually,” Rayne began, cocking his gun, “you don’t have to say shit.”

The bullet flew into Carlo’s chest before another word could be said.

Crossing Rayne was one thing—but betrayal? He’d never been a fan.

“Get someone to clean this up,” he said to Lorenzo, rising. “And prepare the jet. We’re flying back to Italy tonight.”

“And the madam?” Lorenzo asked, referring to his newlywed wife.

“She stays put till I’m back,” Rayne replied, already knowing full well the Russo daughter had a hard time following orders. Beyond the rage bubbling in his gut, there was something else—an irritating curiosity about what his little wife might do while he was gone.

He didn’t bother telling her he was leaving.

•

Lilith

It was past six in the evening and Rayne hadn’t returned.

Lilith wanted to feel happy at the thought. At least his unsaid threats about spending the night together wouldn’t come to pass if he wasn’t around—but why did her heart skip at the thought of that night? Why was she feeling like she wanted to know what he would do if he was here?

Perhaps she was going insane. Perhaps five hours of staying cooped up inside doing nothing but drawing had messed with her mind. Perhaps what she needed was some fun.

She was going to dare him again. A plan was already brewing in her head, and for some reason, her heart fluttered with excitement at the thought of what Rayne would do when he found out.

It took her twenty minutes to get ready. Standing before the mirror, she imagined her husband watching her through those intense cerulean eyes. She had curves in all the right places—something she often hated—but today, she reveled in them.

She wore a black gown dusted with gold sparkles. The slit on the left side ran up just above her knee, showing off far more thigh than was appropriate. The dress hugged her caramel skin—a trait she’d inherited from Amelia and, for once, appreciated. Her lips were painted a deep red, and her braids were styled into a messy bun. She’d applied just enough mascara and eye shadow to give her eyes a smoky, sultry look.

Tonight, the City of Light was about to welcome a very special guest to a very special club.

There were no guards blocking her exit, which was a first. Her grin widened at the thought. For now, she didn’t care where the hell Rayne was. She just wanted to enjoy herself—lose her reality in music and alcohol.

Stepping into Club 57 felt like stepping into another world. Shiny chrome and cool ice blue coated every corner. Lights flickered in sync with the heavy bass pulsing from the DJ’s booth on the far left. The warehouse floor had transformed into a massive dance floor, crowded with swaying bodies. To the right, the bar buzzed with activity, bartenders flinging bottles and mixing drinks.

It was paradise.

Lilith made her way to the bar, took a seat, and ordered a shot of margarita, bobbing her head to the beat and scanning the crowd.

“One shot of margarita, coming right up!” the bartender said cheerily. When he set the drink down, she downed it in one go, wincing at the burn in her throat.

The dance floor called to her. She ordered another, tossed it back, then weaved her way between bodies swaying in a drunken slur.

Her mind whispered that this was a mistake. Every step reminded her she was married to Rayne De Luca—and that he would not like this behavior. But the Russo fire in her refused to heed caution. Without thinking, she found herself swaying her hips as the DJ switched to New Woman by Lalisa.

She felt unstoppable—like she could do whatever the hell she wanted. And in that moment, she wasn’t thinking of Rayne.

If only it lasted.

She felt him before she saw him. Heat seared through her at his presence. Still, she kept dancing—until his strong hands grabbed hers. One arm wrapped around her waist, plastering her to his chest, the other slid to her hip, stilling her movements.

“You forget you belong to me now, Lilith,” Rayne growled against her ear. “And when something belongs to me, no one else gets to see it but me. So you’d better have a good reason for showing off my skin to half-assed drunken men—lest I off them all for looking at what’s mine.”

Dominance coated every word.

“What the fuck, Rayne?” she snapped, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“I leave you unguarded for six hours and the next thing you do is find a club? You seem to like clubs, don’t you?”

His hot breath fanned her neck, sending shivers down her spine—ones she refused to name.

“What was I to do when you left me alone? Probably off to be with one of your many women, yeah?” she threw back. She wasn’t sure why she said it. It wasn’t jealousy. Not at all.

“I am everything but a cheater,” Rayne said coldly. “I only pledge loyalty to one person at a time.”

There was anger in his voice, simmering beneath the surface.

No matter how tough she tried to act, Lilith knew it would only take him a second to destroy her with his bare hands. Yet she remained defiant. Rules meant to tame her only made her wilder.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, making no move to break his grip. She knew it would be useless anyway.

Without warning, he spun her to face him. His eyes were alight with fury. And without breaking eye contact, he reached down, grabbed her by the knees, and flung her over his shoulder.

“Let’s get you home now, shall we?” There was no softness in his voice—only danger.

Scenes flashed in her mind. She shook her head to rid herself of them.

Not today.