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“Sure thing. Holt is not here, but they’re in his office.” He cocks his head in the direction of a door at the back of the parlor. Um, what? Surely, he doesn’t expect me to walk through there. There’re at least half a dozen big biker-looking men standing at the back having a chat and making no effort to conceal the weapons they have strapped to them. No chance in hell!
I turn to Pharrell with hesitant eyes and then back to the inked dude at the counter.
“You want me to go back there and get them myself?” I question him.
“Yeah, the doors open, sweetheart. Help yourself.”
I look back into the parlor behind him and to the big bikie men by the door, and I summon every ounce of my courage to ask. “Can you get them for me, please?”
“Just go and get them for her, Sketch,” Pharrell barks in a deep and dangerous tone that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on edge. The polite young man that’s been driving me around all morning just morphed into ghetto bodyguard mode, and I’ve never been so damn grateful but petrified at the same time. Pharrell takes a step forward, his eyes black, and stare deliberate. What is happening here?
There’re men five yards from us with weapons, and Pharrell is challenging this man. My heart starts beating fast and heavy as the dude at the counter stares back for a moment before getting off his seat and standing.
Holy shit, this is not good. This is not good. I take a step back, ready to make a run for it. Hold up a minute. Pharrell called him Sketch. Which means he knows him. Well, at least enough to know his name. It almost plays out in slow motion as it’s all laid out clearly in front of me.
The dude stretches out his arms and yawns, grinning at me like he knows exactly what I’ve just figured out.
“Just kidding you, sweetheart. They’re right here. He picks up a folder from the counter and holds them out to me. I hear chuckles from the back of the parlor as all the bad-ass-looking bikie men laugh.
Just kidding! Just friggin kidding! What the fuck? This’s not funny AT ALL.
With shaky hands, I take the folder from him and restrain myself from smacking him over the head with it. I bet Roman set him up to this; I bet he told him to try and scare the absolute shit out of me. Well, it worked. My heart is thumping so damn hard it feels like it will rip right through my chest.
I leave the parlor fast, although Pharrell still beats me to the car door to open it again for me. He smiles at me a little when I get into the car. Is that his way of saying, sorry, I know my boss is a jerk!
Why the hell would Roman send me to a place like this? I am so mad. Once again, Roman has shown me he has the power, and I’m just a fucking game to him.
Chapter Fourteen
Roman
“HERE’S YOUR LUNCH AND the documents you asked me to collect, Sir.” Indie places a bag on my desk.
“Thank you.” I look her in the eye, expecting to see the fire that was there this morning, but her sadness has returned.
“No issues?” I ask, trying to ignite the flame. Surely, she has to be pissed off at me. Pharrell called me the moment she stepped out of the car and filled me in on the morning's events, in particular Holt’s Parlor.
“No, Sir, no issues. Will that be all?”
I look at her intently. Perhaps I pushed her too far this morning. Perhaps she learned her lesson when it came to challenging me. Smart girl.
“That is all.”
Indie turns and leaves the office. I expect her to stop midway like she has before, but with her head down, she leaves and closes the door.
Today was a test. Indie isn’t the woman I thought she was. Her behavior this morning was a testament to that. Along with the disturbing information Charlie gathered on her, I needed to make sure she wasn’t a thief like her brother. So, I let her roam free in my apartment. I watched her through my security cameras and was surprised that she didn’t even snoop through my things.
Holts was another test. I needed to know that she would not put herself in a stupid situation again as she did with her brother the other night. Indie tends to make dangerous decisions, yet again, she surprised me by not walking into the flame.
I’m torn about discussing her parents with her. I realize it’s none of my business, for starters, but I also acknowledge that she’s possibly too fragile at this point to talk about it. I decide to wait until I get some more information about them before bringing it up.
“NEW ASSISTANT,” MY father bites at me through furrowed brows as he walks into my office.
“I’m not sleeping with her.” I jump into defence mode as I look up at him from the papers I’m reading.
“I’m not stupid, Roman. You said that about the last half a dozen assistants you went through.”
“This is different. Indie’s brother owes me money, and she is working to pay off the debt.”
