Becoming Rain: A Novel

“Come on, you can move it, right?” I ask between puffs of my cigarette. With the noise from the city streets and being on the tenth floor, I’m not worried about being overheard.

Vlad’s heavy, irritated exhale fills my ear. “Perhaps, but . . .”

Rust warned me that this would be a challenge before he gave me Vlad’s number. I insisted on it, though. Because it’s Dmitri, and because I want to try to negotiate with the bastard. I like to think I have a knack for negotiations. And because I have to come to some agreement, seeing as I promised we would.

I also want to prove that I’m not the half-wit he seems to think I am. But I really hate talking to this guy. “Dude, come on. They retail for a quarter-million here. What’s the problem?” I don’t know what the fuck Stefan was thinking, pinching some rich guy’s custom-made Ferrari Spider on a weekend trip to Seattle. Then he shows up at his father, Nikolai’s, doorstep with it. According to Rust, who talked to Dmitri after my call with him, Nikolai lost his mind. Gave his son two black eyes for being so stupid. At least the idiot was smart enough to jam the tracking system on it.

“I may have a buyer. He was talking about wanting to impress a mistress with a new car, recently.”

“She’d be impressed, alright.” From what Dmitri told us, the owner had every upgrade imaginable put into it. “Look, you can even take an extra five percent off our cut, for your help.”

A vacant chuckle answers. “If I do this, the cost is seventy off the top.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Just like Rust warned.

“No, I’m a businessman and this is business. Dude.”

“There’s no way we can give you that big a cut.”

“Then I hope you enjoy giving that car back.” I hear the click.

“Asshole.” I dial Rust to announce, “Seventy percent off the top.”

He curses under his breath.

“Do we take the deal?” Rust gave me an earful earlier. I shouldn’t have promised to help Dmitri without talking to him first. Now that I have, we have to follow through.

“Let me see if Andrei’s still awake. Sit tight. And keep your night open until you hear back from me.”

I fall back into my chair and stare at the layers of purple and pink in the sky. I don’t want to cancel plans with Rain, but I also don’t want to have to ditch her suddenly if Rust calls, like I did this afternoon. After showing up at her house, dragging her out, and demanding she cook for me. She was oddly understanding about it all.

I glance across the way, wondering what she’s doing now. Her lights are on but her blinds are closed, unfortunately. Is she sitting by her phone, waiting for my call? I glance at my watch. Eight o’clock. Early by my standards, but she’s probably wondering if we’re still on. Girls are like that.

Licks groans from his resting spot by my feet and I smile. He hasn’t left my side since I came home, after sniffing me up and down, growling a little. I’m pretty sure he’s jealous of Stanley. He’s going to have to get used to it, because I’m sure I’m going to see Rain—and her dog—again.

She’s been in my head all afternoon. The way she hummed when she stirred her sauce, the way she stepped through puddles in her boots, as if she intentionally wanted to make a splash. The way she listened to me when I talked. Really listened. Not like Priscilla, who just goes through the motions.

The way she looked, stretched out in her bed last night.

She’s everything I’m used to and yet she’s completely new. She’s easygoing and witty. She seems smart. She doesn’t talk my ear off about the car or the clothes or the jewelry that she wants, subtle hints for things she’d expect me to buy her. She wouldn’t even take my money today. That was a refreshing change. Maybe it’s because she has enough of her own. But I’ve never met a woman yet who has enough money. Well, maybe Alexandria Petrova.

Just the thought of that name makes my stomach clench.

When I kissed Rain today and she pushed me back, asking for space because of her past, my blood turned cold. She’s been abused. Not nearly as bad as Alex, if the lack of scars indicates anything. But Rain’s words brought me back to that scary night over a year ago, to the days after, waiting to hear from Jesse, hoping for good news. Praying that, when all was said and done, my conscience would be cleared for once dismissing what I knew was happening to her.

As soon as Rain broke away and told me about her ex, she became glass to me. Fragile. To be handled with extreme care. The fact that she was so open to begin with was promising, I guess; I think it means that she trusts me.

I’m just not sure how that works in my life. She said she likes “hanging out” with me, but what does that look like? Like Dmitri said, would Rain “fit”? Especially now? Or is this all a waste of time? I hate wasting my time. Maybe I should just stick with Priscilla. There are no pretenses with her. She grew up in the same environment I did; she knows what this world is all about. Her moral compass is as skewed as mine, maybe more.

My burner phone rings. I answer it in time to hear, “Fucking Russians.” It makes me smile, despite everything. “I take it the call to Andrei didn’t go well?”

Rust heaves a sigh. “No. It didn’t. Andrei’s siding with Vlad.”

“Shit . . . I don’t know what to do, here. Do you want me to tell Dmitri or do you?”

“No, we can’t back out now.” A long pause. And then he says very precisely, like the idea’s coming to him as he speaks, “I want you to go and meet with Aref Hamidi. He handles our shipping, but he expressed interest in becoming involved in more several years ago. He may be able to help us out.”

I frown. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to go meet with him?”

“You brought this problem to the table, so I think you should be the one to solve it. It’s a good little test.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Why? You don’t think you can handle this?”

“No, of course I can.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel.

“This will be good for building your rapport with him. It’s a simple side deal. I’ll let Aref know you’re coming to discuss some business. Just don’t commit to anything until we talk.”

“Where?”

“He’s hosting a party at his house tonight. Bring a girl with you. It’ll look more social.”

My gaze drifts over to Rain’s window. “I can do that. You don’t think this’ll cause problems with Vlad?”

He heaves a sigh that tells me that it probably will. “Like he said, this is business. We have our deal with them, and this is outside of that. Plus, I don’t like Vlad thinking he has a monopoly. Just . . . we won’t mention it to Vlad.”

“Got it.” I can see Vlad being the kind of guy to fly off the handle. A lot of screaming and shouting. Possibly some threats.

“How’s the car?” I hear the smile in Rust’s voice, so I know his mood has already shifted. I’ve never seen him so happy to give me something as he was that day last week, when I drove off the lot in my brand-new shiny black Porsche 911.

I beam, just thinking about it. “Fucking beautiful. Thank you, Rust.”

“Well, you make me proud, son.”

I hang up wondering if Rust would still say that had I not willingly gone into business with him. Would he still be treating me like the son he never had, or instead like a nephew he checks in on once in a while? Would my name be on the deed to a ­million-dollar condo? Would I have all that I have?

Dialing Rain’s number, a slight bubble of nerves spikes in me as I wait. It’s an odd sensation, not one I’m used to. She answers after the third ring. Lick’s head pops up as Stanley’s yappy bark comes through in the background, making me chuckle and the tension in my back quickly slide away. “Hey. You’re still free tonight, right?”

She has a nice walk. It’s sleek and steady and catlike.

I watch Rain approach my car, her calf muscles tightening with each step, thanks to those wickedly tall red shoes.

The kind I like.

So is the snug black dress she’s wearing. Strapless, showing off the curves of her neck and shoulders. One of my favorite parts of a woman.

The entire package is impressive. I suddenly wonder how the hell I could have been distracted enough not to call her the day I met her. How it took getting attacked by her dog to notice her in the park. How I’m going to give her space, when all I want to do right now is touch her.

“Nice car,” she murmurs, her crystal-blue eyes sliding over the frame of my Porsche before she slides into the passenger seat. The back of her dress dips down even lower, highlighting her sleek curves and that sexy tattoo. The one I saw last night, when she was in her underwear . . . My heart rate spikes a little.

“New?” She stares at me, waiting for my answer.

Focus, Luke. “Yeah, I just got it last week.” I drove it off the lot and around Portland with a massive hard-on for three hours.

Pulling out of the condo parking lot, I let my hand rest on the gear stick. “You look really . . . nice.” I steal a glance at her firm thighs and smooth skin. She definitely takes care of herself.

Glass. She’s glass, I remind myself.

She dips her head in that almost embarrassed way, the way she always does when she catches me looking at her, her fingers fumbling with the gold chain of her necklace. She does that quite a bit, I’ve noticed. Must be a nervous habit. “So, where are you taking me?”

“A business associate’s party.”

“Easily five million. Maybe more,” I murmur, taking in the lit-up mansion that sits by Columbia River, handing my keys to the hired valet. Not surprising that Aref would hire someone to manage all the guests filtering through here. Rust said he likes throwing parties and people like coming to them.

I steal a glance Rain’s way to see her eyes widen, skittering over all the details, taking it all in. As if she’s not used to places and parties like this. Hard to believe, given what she said her father does, what she drives, who she is. The condo she’s living in would have cost her dad a million, easy. I know because that’s what the one I’m living in cost Rust and they’re about equal. An investment, he said.

People don’t invest in million-dollar condos unless they’ve got serious cash available.

Her large eyes catch me studying her. “It reminds me a lot of a place we owned when I was younger. Who did you say this guy was again?”

“His name’s Aref.” Simple and vague. I don’t have much else to go on, except that I’m looking for a tall Iranian man with a slight scar bisecting his upper lip.

She doesn’t push. I like that. Maybe it’s because of my time with Rust. Maybe it’s because there is so much I can’t talk about. In any event, too many questions generally irritate me. Sliding her arm through mine, she purrs, “Let’s see what kind of wine Aref’s serving tonight.”

I lead her to the house and into a sea of unfamiliar faces.