TW: mentions of sexual harrasment. proceed with caution.

⌞ BETWEEN TWO HEARTS. ⌝
Chapter Two:      "I'll take care of it."

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RAFE CAMERON.

If there was one thing Rafe Cameron despised other than incompetence, it was men who couldn't even be bothered to respect a woman's fucking boundaries.

What had been a perfect afternoon—finalizing a lucrative deal with the private marina near the Country Club, followed by much-needed quality time with Stella—was promptly ruined by the sight of an asshole crowding Wren Darling in a way that made his blood boil.

Rafe's sharp blue eyes immediately locked onto the scene. He gave no visible reaction, but the tension in the room shifted instantly and unmistakably.

Wren's face flushed, while Gavin remained rooted in place, wide-eyed as he gaped at Rafe. His hand quickly moved away from where it had been resting on her, as though he'd been caught in the act of something illegal—which, in this case, he absolutely fucking had.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Rafe's harsh choice of words cut through the room, his tone deliberate—calm and cold. Still, he didn't miss the way Gavin flinched at the blatant use of profanity.

Rafe's unexpected visit to the Country Club was under the pretense of discussing operational finances with Gavin, but his true intention was to see a certain waitress he'd been drawn to for the past five years.

Wren Darling.

The same Wren who'd been cowering a few meters away from him, visibly shaken by what had transpired before he arrived.

Rafe had reached the office, about to knock, when he overheard the bullshit Gavin was spewing and Wren's desperate, pleading words to leave. If he hadn't arrived when he did, who knew what could have happened to Wren. The thought alone set his blood on fire.

"Mr. Cameron, I wasn't expecting you," Gavin chuckled nervously, moving an inch away from Wren. He then clears his throat, gesturing to the still waitress. "We were just discussing Miss Darling's work ethic."

Rafe narrowed his eyes at Gavin's pathetic excuse and turned his attention to Wren, who seemed as though she'd been struck by lightning. "Is this your idea of discussing work ethic?" His voice was dangerously low. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like a lawsuit just waiting to happen."

Gavin burst into fits of laughter, overly drawn out and painfully unnecessary. "Come on, Rafe. Don't blow this out of proportion," he spoke with an unsettling familiarity like he was trying to downplay the situation. "Wren and I were just having a conversation," he added, tilting his head toward her. "She didn't seem to mind, did you, Wren?"

"Don't put words in her mouth," Rafe growled, trudging closer.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly what fueled his anger, but he knew it wasn't about the why or the what—it was about the who.

His eyes briefly flicked to Wren, his features softening just a fraction. "Go home, Wren."

He could see the hesitation on her countenance as her eyes darted between him and her boss, who was practically gritting his teeth in frustration. After a brief moment, she nodded quickly, letting out a breathless word of gratitude. With that, she rushed out of the office, practically eager to leave.

Rafe shook his head, clicking his tongue at Gavin before rounding his desk and sinking into the swiveling chair. "When I bought this establishment and hired you as manager, I expected better." He leaned back, leveling a menacing smile at him.

Gavin Brooks was a few years older than Rafe and had once worked for his father, Ward Cameron. After Ward's passing, Gavin transitioned to working for Rafe, managing the Country Club he'd bought almost eleven years ago.

"I'm handling things just fine around here," Gavin responded, his tone defensive, which only caused Rafe's grin to widen.

Desperation was something Rafe could sense from miles away. Once Gavin was fired for ethical violations, no one would dare hire him again. His career was finished before it even started. And now, desperation was his most loyal ally.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Rafe made a perfunctory nod, his lips pressing into a line. "Except I can't retain a manager with such conduct. That's a liability I'm not willing to take." His friendly mask withered away, replaced by a steely glare. "You're fired."

With two words, Gavin's resolve crumbled, evident in his wide eyes and parted lips. "Y-You can't fire me," he stammered. He shook his head repeatedly, clearly distraught by how the night had unfolded. "I'm the best there is to manage this place. I've been here for seven years! You can't fire me, you just can't!"

"I just did." Rafe deadpanned. "Pack your shit, Brooks, this conversation's over."

With that, Rafe stood from the chair and left the room, phone in hand. He then sent a text to his assistant, instructing her to start vetting candidates for Gavin's replacement, ensuring they meet the standards they set with a clear emphasis on behavior and conduct.

As soon as he got inside his black Lexus sedan parked outside, he rubbed his face, the fury of the moment settling in, its heat crawling beneath his skin.

Removing Gavin from his managerial role was a long-overdue decision. Sure, he was good at his job, but rumors had swirled around Figure Eight that he was a scumbag beneath the polished facade he'd carefully curated.

Rafe didn't regret terminating him, but he did regret that it had taken walking in on Gavin making unwarranted advances toward Wren to finally make it happen.

The look on Wren's face when he entered was seared into his mind—jarring, unsettling. It stirred something within him, a deep, instinctive urge to kill whoever was responsible for her discomfort, by any means necessary.

Rafe had known her for over five years, ever since she'd began working as a waitress at the Country Club, which—ironically—was where he'd met his ex-wife, Sofia.

The first time he saw Wren, she was carrying a tray of drinks, but instead of using both hands, she held it with one hand while the other held the lower half of both drinks, as if she feared it might topple over.

It made Rafe crack a smile—the first one since his divorce from Sofia. He'd been drinking at the time; heavy-hearted and feeling helpless. Between business dealings, caring for one-year-old Stella, and Sofia leaving the island to pursue a modeling career or some shit, there'd been no time for himself, or anyone else, for that matter.

He liked Wren, but he'd always kept his distance, never allowing himself to get too close.

But his composure unraveled in moments of solitude where his mind would digress, wondering what it would be like to cross the boundary he'd set for himself.

What it would be like to hold her as if nothing else mattered; to whisper sweet nothings to her, to fucking taste her.

Would her skin be as smooth as it looked, welcoming beneath his touch? Would the warmth of her body pressed against his ignite a fire within him, burning in all the right ways? Would her lips taste like the kind of desire he couldn't restrain?

Rafe cursed under his breath as he felt a strain in his pants. Every fucking time his thoughts drifted to Wren, this was what came of it. It was unseemly, especially considering he was her boss's boss, but also because he prided himself on being a gentleman.

To him, Wren Darling was like a fragile cargo—delicate and required meticulous care. Her pale complexion and soft features roused an unrelenting thirst inside him, one he couldn't quite name but felt deeply.

He knew it was wrong of him to think this way of Wren. She was young, untouched by fullness of life's experiences. Yet, it only made him want to show her the world—its beauty, its chaos, and everything in between.

Though Rafe was fully aware of the age difference between them, he couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt toward her. And judging by the way her eyes lingered on him with an unspoken desire earlier that day—when he'd stopped by the Country Club to grab lunch for himself and Stella—he knew she felt it too.

At this point, it was only a matter of time before Wren Darling became his.

Fuck the age gap.

As Rafe continued down the road, his thoughts screeched to a halt when his eyes landed on the familiar figure ahead—the chocolate brown locks cascading down in a way he had come to recognize so well.

He slowed the car, pacing alongside her as she walked. He noticed her eyeing the vehicle warily, clutching her bag tightly. He almost laughed at how adorable she looked, though the circumstances made it anything but amusing.

Before she had a chance to run away, he lowered his windows and brought the car to a stop. He watched, his eyes fixed on her as her eyes widened in surprise, seemingly caught off guard.

"Mr. Cameron," her voice wavered slightly, high-pitched.

Rafe narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze cutting as he took in the tears staining her cheeks. A cold, heavy feeling settled in his chest, and he made a mental note to ruin Gavin's reputation. "Get in."

"I—"

"I'll drive you home."

Wren stood in place, as though weighing her options. "I'm fine, Mr. Cameron, my house is not that far from here."

"Rafe," he corrected, his tone firm. "Call me Rafe."

"Er... Rafe," she replied, wincing as if saying his name physically hurt. "It's just a fifteen-minute walk from here."

"Fifteen minutes?" Rafe murmured. "Jesus, Wren, just let me drive you home."

Wren looked like she was about to argue more, but Rafe had already raised the windows up, cutting off her chance. Moments later, the passenger door opened, and the car was suddenly filled with a faint, musky scent—her scent.

Rafe's jaw ticked, and the distance between them seemed to shrink, impossibly close, as he shifted the car into drive.

"Where to?"

"Just take the next left up ahead, then another left. It's straight on from there," Wren replied, her voice steady but quiet. Rafe could almost hear the subtle tremor in her words, but he opted not to point it out, his attention on the road ahead.

They both persisted in the silence, an unspoken strain between them. Rafe, though desperate to talk to her, held back the urge, sensing she needed the quiet to process what had just occurred.

The weight of the situation—the violation of her dignity—pressed heavily in the stillness.

But he kept driving after they took the second left, navigating through unfamiliar streets. Moments later, they passed houses—modest and simple—that nestled in neat rows, a clear juxtaposition to the lavish estates on Figure Eight. The subdivision lacked gates and perfectly manicured lawns, its charm stemming more from its subdued beauty.

The houses were smaller, the yards less pristine. Rafe glanced out the window from time to time, taking in the striking difference. He was used to the polished opulence of his side of the island, yet this place didn't unsettle him. If anything, it deepened his awareness, a harsh reminder that Wren's world was so different from his.

"This is me," Wren mumbled softly, gesturing toward the house ahead.

Rafe only nodded in response, slowing the car to a stop in front of a one-story house. The exterior showed signs of wear, with peeling paint and a neglected garden where faded flowers struggled to bloom amidst the overgrown weeds.

The car's engine came to a halt, filling the air between them with a volatile hush.

After a beat, Rafe dropped his hand from the steering wheel to his lap and glanced at Wren. "Did he hurt you?"

It took a millisecond before she replied, "No."

Rafe's nostrils flared as he nodded, inhaling sharply. "I'm sorry for what happened earlier. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. It was completely out of line, especially for him." He looked at her again, the warmth of concern for her lingering, but anger still simmered in his eyes, evident in his rigid jaw and stiffened form.

Wren's face morphed between two things: surprise and thoughtfulness, as if considering his words.

"Thank you, Mr. Ca—" she paused, noticing the look Rafe gave her. "I mean, Rafe. I... appreciate it, but you don't need to apologize. It wasn't your doing."

"Has he ever done anything like that to you before?" Rafe asked, his voice low and edged with concern. "Or to anyone else?"

Wren met his gaze for a second, and he found himself lost in the depths of her deep, chestnut-colored irises. Then, without a word, she shook her head, her chin dropping as she looked down.

"Don't lie to me, Wren."

Even with the dim lighting and early glow of the moon casting half her face in shadow, he could see the turmoil brewing behind her eyes. She was hesitant—but why?

"Hey, I'm not gonna do anything to compromise you or your work, alright?" Rafe turned to her, his voice soothing. "If that's what's holding you back."

Wren took a deep breath, her body stiff as she spoke. "He always made comments like that, and I let it slide because he was... my boss," she winced. "But tonight was the first time he took it further." Her voice gradually faded into a whisper as she finished her sentence.

Rafe's stomach twisted as he processed her words. Further. He knew exactly what she meant. The confession hit him like a punch to the gut. The thought of anyone laying a hand on Wren without consent made his fist clench, already imagining smashing it into Gavin's skull.

"I'll take care of it," he murmured to her, the weight of his words hanging in the atmosphere like a promise. Wren's eyes widened in surprise. Then, he gave her a firm nod, his expression stagnant. "Let me walk you to your door."

Both of them exited the car, Wren moving around the front. In silence, they walked toward the front door, with her maintaining a few paces between them.

As soon as they reached the front door, Wren cleared her throat and turned to face him. "Thank you again for... this," she gave him a small smile. "You didn't have to."

"I wasn't about to let you walk home alone after what happened."

Wren only nodded, her gratitude clear in her eyes.

After a beat, Rafe finally spoke again, his voice steady. "Will you be alright here?"

"Yeah, my roommate will be home soon anyway."

Something tugged at him to say something more, to offer some kind of comfort, but the sight of her tired eyes and flushed cheeks made him grit his teeth, swallowing the words that threatened to slip out. She was still lost in the aftermath of what had happened, and he knew pushing further would break her.

With that, Rafe gave her a silent nod of farewell, turned on his heel, and headed back to his car, deliberately not glancing back to see if she was watching him leave.

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author's note:
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