𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗥ueben whipped around the corner, pulling into the underground parking garage. Every minute that passed was another minute his worry grew. The only thing on his mind was how her boyfriend had treated her for just sleeping on him.
He parked his car with a screeching halt, thinking of the night Rayne came to him with a gash on her face that hadn't been there an hour before when they were together. The dots continued connecting themselves, and he continued cursing himself out for not realizing the signs before.
He pushed the car door open and slammed it closed before sprinting across the lot to the staircase, not bothering to lock it. The lobby was on the first floor of the building, as he recalled. He ran up the three flights of stairs that consisted of the parking garage before pushing open the dull grey, metal door at the top of the landing. He entered the lobby – having been here once before, he knew that in order to get to Rayne, he was going to have to find some way to get the Penthouse code for the golden elevator in the back.
Rueben looked to the left and then to the right, taking in the lobby before recognizing that the only worker down here was the desk attendant; he was standing alone. For a place as high quality as this one, there should be more workers – but that was the least of his concerns. He half – jogged towards the middle aged man, hurrying, but not drawing attention to himself.
"I don't have time to explain, but I need the code to the penthouse elevator," he spoke fast once he arrived at the desk, breathing heavily with anticipation.
The man looked up at him, jumping in his spot, obviously recognizing him, before he regained his composure and smoothed himself out, "Can I have your name and reason for being here? I'll call up and ask for permission."
"There's no time for that shit!" Rueben yelled.
A loud gasp of disapproval from an older lady sounded behind him. He turned and smiled at her, offering his apologies. He cursed under his breath as he looked back at the concierge, calming himself, "I'm sorry," he said slowly, "—but my friend – Rayne Miller – she's not going to answer the phone. I have reason to believe she's in danger."
"I apologize sir but that's against—"
Rueben held up a hand silencing him before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, "I only have three hundred on me. Is that enough?" he asked, tossing the wad onto the counter.
The man hesitated to grab it, but stopped short. He cleared his throat, "We don't accept bribes here. I suggest coming back later to—"
He growled in anger and reached over the counter, grabbing, and pulling on the man's collared shirt. He brought him close to his face, keeping his tone harsh but quiet, "Listen porky – my friend is up there possibly fighting for her life. Judging on the reaction you had when you first saw me, I don't think I have to remind you who the fuck I am and what I'm capable of. Everyone has a fucking price, and I'm sure three hundred is sufficient enough for you, so I suggest you comply like a good boy and give me the fucking code before I do something we both would rather avoid."
