Chapter 3 - The Debt Rafe Wasn’t Supposed to Know About
Three days later, Northbridge Financial called again.
“Miss Hayes, your father’s account has been settled.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“What?”
“The remaining balance was paid yesterday.”
“By whom?”
“I’m not authorized to disclose that.”
I knew exactly who.
Twenty minutes later, I called the number on Rafe’s card.
He answered on the second ring.
“Emma.”
“You paid my father’s debt.”
Silence.
“Hello to you too.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I could.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“Undo it.”
A pause.
“Undo paying a hospital?”
“You had no right.”
“You saved my life.”
“I did my job.”
“And I handled a debt.”
“That wasn't your job.”
“No.”
“Then stay out of my life.”
The line went quiet.
When Rafe spoke again, the amusement was gone.
“Fair.”
That single word stopped me.
No argument.
No intimidation.
No demand for gratitude.
Just—
“Fair.”
“I’ll repay you.”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“I said fair. I didn't say ridiculous.”
“I’m repaying you.”
“Fine.”
“How?”
“Dinner.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Dinner. You can spend ninety minutes explaining why accepting help is a moral catastrophe.”
“That is not repayment.”
“It is to me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
I should have hung up.
Instead I said, “One dinner.”
“Friday.”
“I’m working.”
“Saturday.”
“Seven.”
“I’ll send a car.”
“I own a car.”
“Of course you do.”
Saturday evening, I arrived at Calder House expecting a restaurant.
It wasn’t.
It was Rafe’s home.
A limestone mansion overlooking Boston Harbor.
He opened the door himself.
Black trousers. Black dress shirt. Sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing dense tattoos. No tie. No jacket.
Still unmistakably mafia.
“You tricked me.”
“You would have said no.”
“I may still.”
June appeared behind him.
“Emma!”
I pointed at Rafe.
“You didn't mention your sister.”
June looked delighted.
“He didn't mention me?”
“No.”
“Excellent. This is already going badly for him.”
Dinner was unexpectedly normal.
June talked too much.
Rafe talked too little.
I learned their parents had died when June was seventeen.
Rafe had raised her.
“You became her guardian?” I asked.
“At nineteen.”
June nodded.
“He was terrible.”
“I kept you alive.”
“You packed canned tuna in my school lunch for six months.”
“Protein.”
“It smelled like death.”
I laughed.
Rafe looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Apparently I do that.”
Then Malcolm entered.
His face killed the mood instantly.
“Rafe.”
Rafe stood.
“What?”
“We found the hotel footage.”
June stopped smiling.
Malcolm glanced at me.
Rafe noticed.
“Say it.”
“The attack wasn't random.”
“Who was the target?”
Malcolm looked at June.
Her face went pale.
Rafe’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Who?”
“June.”
Rafe didn’t move.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
June whispered, “Why?”
Malcolm placed photographs on the table.
“Someone knew your arrival time.”
Rafe studied them.
Then looked at his sister.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“June.”
“You don't get to lock me up.”
“I’m not debating this.”
She stood.
“And that's your problem! You think protecting someone means controlling them.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened.
“Someone tried to kill you.”
“And you were hurt protecting me!”
“Exactly.”
June pushed her chair back.
“I’m going upstairs.”
She disappeared.
Rafe stared after her.
I stood.
“Go talk to her.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because right now I’ll say the wrong thing.”
I studied him.
The terrifying Rafe Calder looked suddenly very human.
“You’re afraid.”
His eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
That answer surprised me.
“You admitted that quickly.”
“I don’t lie to myself.”
I softened.
May you like
“Then don't lie to her.”
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