Beautifully Wrong - Rafe Cameron

VIII

Monday morning was already off to a bad start, and Indiana knew it would only get worse. The sun was barely up, but the heat was oppressive, making her regret walking to work almost immediately. The orthopedic boot made her gait awkward, and the soreness in her ankle wasn't helping matters. She cursed herself for not catching a ride with someone, but after everything that had happened, the last thing she wanted was to ask for help—especially from Rafe Cameron.

She still couldn't believe she'd gone to that stupid party on Saturday. If Percy hadn't overheard her mention it, she wouldn't have ended up in that mess. But once he got it in his head that he wanted to go, there was no turning back. She'd gone to keep an eye on him, but the night had spun out of control, and now here she was, limping to work, dreading the shift ahead.

The restaurant loomed ahead, a nondescript building that had seen better days. She pushed open the door and stepped into the air-conditioned interior, only to come face-to-face with Rafe, who was lounging by the hostess stand with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

"Guess you're tougher than you look," he drawled, his eyes flicking down to her boot. "Most people would've stayed in bed."

Indiana brushed past him, not in the mood for his games. "Not everyone has that luxury."

Rafe followed her, his tone teasing but with an edge she didn't like. "You really should've taken the day off. Would've given you time to think about our little arrangement."

She rolled her eyes as she reached her locker, already annoyed. "What do you want, Rafe?you're not supposed to be in here."

He leaned against the locker next to hers, his smirk never wavering. "Just reminding you that appearances matter. If we're seen together and you keep acting like you hate my guts, people are going to start asking questions. It'd be easier for both of us if you played along."

Indiana glared at him, her patience wearing thin. "You mean it'd be easier for you. I'm not interested in making your life more convenient."

"Think of it as damage control," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of warning. "You don't want people snooping around, do you?"

Her jaw tightened, the implication clear. "I'm not going to your parties, Rafe. And I'm not pretending to be something I'm not."

Rafe's smirk faded, his expression hardening. "You might want to reconsider. I can make it worth your while. A little cash could go a long way."

Indiana stared at him, the offer hanging in the air. She hated that he was right about one thing—money was tight. But taking anything from Rafe felt like selling her soul.

"And what exactly would I have to do for this cash?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just show up, look like you're enjoying yourself," he replied smoothly. "Simple enough, right?"

She wanted to say no, to tell him where he could shove his money up his ass, but practicality won out. "i'll think about it," she muttered, hating herself for it. "But don't push it, Cameron."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, flashing that infuriating grin before turning and sauntering out of the room.

She finished changing into her uniform, the outfit as uncomfortable as ever. The bikini and jean shorts were designed to catch the eye, and she'd never liked how exposed it made her feel. But the job was a necessity, so she swallowed her discomfort and headed out to start her shift.

The lunch rush was in full swing when the incident happened. She was weaving through tables, trying to balance a tray of drinks, when she felt a hand brush against her thigh. She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she turned to see a middle-aged man grinning up at her, his eyes gleaming with something vile.