"Is it another bruise?" she asks as I return my hand to her hip, staring intensely.
"It's a massive bruise," I say with a harsh breath, cursing the damn idiots that could have fucking killed her.
"Yeah. I've got them all over me."
When my eyes come back up, I see them. I missed them before, but there's a large one on her shoulder, several nasty ones up her spine, and I'm sure the rest of her body looks just as battered.
This really was my fault. That was my place. I knew the shit was getting out of control, and I did nothing. I've never felt like a bigger dick in all my life, and that's saying a lot.
My chest heaves as more guilt attacks me with an onslaught of jabs. She could have died. If she had still been in her room, she would have died. Shit. And I'm being the biggest asshole in the world while she's homeless and scared.
She steps away from me, relieving me from staring at the proof of my stupidity.
"They said you didn't get hurt," I mutter, suddenly understanding the meaning of self loathing.
"I didn't suffer anything major," she says with a shrug. "But when a roof collapses on you, it still tends to leave a mark. Thanks for the help, but I need to get redressed."
I almost want to ask her how many other bruises are on her. Like the ro
yal prick I am, my eyes accidentally fall to her chest, and I curse myself when I can't look away from the slight bit of cleavage there. I should be punched. I almost get the girl killed, and now I'm trying to catch a peek.
She tightens her hold on the open corset, keeping all her most important things covered.
"How much longer will you be?" I ask, prying my eyes off her chest and bringing them back up to meet hers.
"I'm done. I don't want this thing, and I don't really need the dresses. I don't go anywhere that I would need to wear something like that. Just the regular clothes for me."
She needs plenty of clothes. Her shit has been itching her, and I'm sure it's painful to scratch with so many brutal bruises.
I cringe inwardly, hating myself even more for arguing about bringing her here now.
"And the swimsuits," I add, pointing to the rack. My pool is massive. I really don't need to think about her in a bikini. Maybe she'll pick a grandma suit.
"No. I don't feel like swimming. Not my thing. Besides, I'd look like a punching bag with all these," she says, motioning to numerous bruises around her neck, shoulders, and chest.
I need to get out of here before I drop to the floor at her feet and swear my apologies. The sick feeling in my gut makes me fight the urge to double over, and I flee the room without saying another word.
My dick has finally calmed the hell down, since my conscience is draining every bit of energy from me. I had no idea it was that bad. How did she manage to get out without broken bones? Mother-
"Kade?" the woman near the entrance says, stepping behind the cash register.
I need anything to distract me from the hellacious amount of guilt I feel. So I let her flirt, while I smile and laugh when I think I'm supposed to. I lean against the counter, continuing the charade of being intrigued. But I've barely heard a word she's said.
She asks about my father's latest store, and I tell her where it is, mention the new girls struggling with the rich men that come in. She giggles and nods, seeming to find amusement in nothing amusing at all.
Then a few clothes are suddenly beside me on the counter, and I look over to see Raya in an almost long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of jeans. She's covering her bruises. My guilt doubles and delivers me another sickening kick to the gut.
"Is that all you're getting?" I ask, looking at the tiny heap.
She needs to replace everything.
"Yeah. And what I'm wearing," she says, motioning to the clothes that she feels I overlooked.
Okay. So she obviously doesn't realize that Dad meant to get all she needed. Instead of explaining, I just walk back toward the dressing room. I motion to two girls who almost stumble in their haste to meet me.
They actually frown when they realize I'm just asking them to do their jobs. Like I'd fuck someone in the dressing room of my father's store.
"Everything that was in her size, grab it," I order, sounding a little bossier than usual.