Page 44 of Rake

And she’s right. The bras cost a small fortune. Not really something I can afford, but it’s an investment.

The aggressive tape measure woman points me to matching underwear, and I officially have my first sexy bras and panties. I end up buying other lingerie too. Can’t hurt to have some.

My mind wanders to Finn’s hands sliding under the worn cotton of the panties I had bought in a six-pack and it makes me want to die a little. At least he didn’t see them. And he won’t see these either.

Jamilah connects me with affordable help for hair and makeup—two more things I never really had time to learn how to do.

“You can look good on a budget,” she says. “It’s easier when you’re rich, but not impossible either way.”

I’m back home by three, and my father is thankfully passed out drunk so I can get my purchases put away before he sees me and screams at me for wasting money.

My money, but still.

I pull out my grandma’s little sewing machine and fix up the dress hem. I’m going to shock the hell out of Finn.

Part of me knows I need to stop thinking about him. About those little flashes of humanity in which I can see how he might have been if he’d been brought up differently. He was embarrassed when he showed me that book. I could see it in his posture. Finn isn’t someone who lets other people see him be vulnerable, but I’d noticed. I’m sure he hasn’t had space to be sentimental and it makes me sad for him.

But it doesn’t matter, I guess. It doesn’t matter that I like that he’s a strong, masculine man who can read the hell out of Robert Burns anyway. It doesn’t matter how much I like his hands on my body.

I’m going to set his father up at the gala, and he’s going to be pissed as hell.

12

Finn

I’ve spent more time in Everett this week than is good for anyone. I’ve just pulled up in front of Sasha’s house. My father was served on Monday, and everyone was surprised when he took it in stride. They expected a big eruption, but of course he knew ahead of time.

Not that he thanked me for that. He’s too hung up on my not resolving the problem before this point.

He’d been working with his lawyers to see if there were any legal loopholes to stall the election, but everything had been done perfectly. Not a surprise with Sasha leading the efforts. Now all he can do is distribute anti-union propaganda.

Which he is doing quite a bit of. I’ve been trying to surreptitiously collect data, but none of the staff are talking.

Can’t say I blame them after what happened to Sasha.

My father left copies of Monday’s paper around the breakrooms too, all conveniently turned to the society page with the photo of me and Sasha. There’d been rumblings, but nothing explosive. That’d change after tonight.

I wish she’d taken me up on my offer to buy a dress. Sasha is gorgeous, but she’ll be eaten alive. The wives of our rich investors are petty and cruel. Though I don’t doubt Sasha can hold her own, it’s a totally different brand of warfare than she’s used to.

She definitely doesn’t go to many galas based on how uncomfortable she was at the Athenaeum.

It’s just 7:30 now, and I’d better not keep the lady waiting.

I head up to the side door and ring the bell. For a long moment I don’t hear anything and wonder if that’s broken too, when the door swings open.

Great, it’s Pops.

“You again,” he says. I can smell the beer on his breath. He turns away from me, and I walk inside. Benjamin sits at the kitchen table, which seems to also be the dining room table. He’s working on a complicated math problem. I start trying to solve it in my head. I can’t help myself. I’m about to tell him the next step when he writes the answer in a box in the corner. The right answer. Well damn. Sasha’s right. The kid is brilliant.

“What level of calculus is that?” I ask, curious.

“I skipped calc two and went right to calc three. Was a fucking mistake, but I’m doing okay.”

“More than okay, I’d guess. That’s the right answer.”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “You some kind of math nerd and a mob boss?”

Fuck, I really like this kid.

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