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Ray watched her house, like he’d done so many nights over the past month. He remembered that first night, once he’d realized that what she had eclipsed even his aunt and uncle’s wealth. That house was so huge; she had to be lonely in there.
He’d always been alone at his aunt and uncle’s, too. Reggie hadn’t counted.
Everything bad in his life he’d had to face alone. His aunt and uncle wouldn’t even look at him until he’d figured things out as a kid. Every time.
A silver sedan, one he recognized, pulled into the drive. Ray tensed. He’d always liked Dr. Patel. The guy had talked to him quite a bit. But he had no business being anywhere near Fin.
It had been Patel who had reported his letters as stalking. To Vince’s son. Dom always stared at Ray whenever Dom visited his father at the hospital. Like he knew Ray was an ex-con. His aunt had promised that wasn’t on his record anywhere. She’d promised.
And she had the connections to make it happen. His aunt had promised he’d have a chance at a new start.
And she’d threatened that it was the last such chance she was going to give him.
Ray had to fix his life himself, now.
He wanted to do that. With Fin.
They could live in that big house together. She wouldn’t have to be lonely any longer. He could probably convince Vince to switch his schedule to better match hers. Instead of them being alone all the time.
Or he’d get off work earlier than her. He’d fix dinner—or have the chef do it, no doubt there was a chef in that house somewhere—and then would wait for her.
He’d love her.
Like she was meant to be loved.
But not if Virat Patel was standing in the way.
Ray battled back the rage.
Rage was what had gotten him arrested in the first place.