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Chapter Eleven
RORY
Ican feel Rogan’s eyes roaming up and down my body as he walks behind me. I’m starting to panic a bit, hoping he’s not planning on accompanying me to my trailer. I don’t want any of them to see it, to see how I really live. Surrounded by all this glitz and glam, I worry they may rethink hiring me if they know where I come from.
“Really, I’ll be fine. I can see my way out,” I tell Rogan.
A growl emits from him, one that startles me by how the sound vibrates through my frame, igniting my desire for him.
He hooks his hand around my upper arm and gives it a squeeze. “I will escort you down, Ms. O’Brien, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
I try to yank my arm away, but his grip only tightens, and I look up at him, catching his gaze. It’s almost as if he’s testing me, wanting me to be defiant, seeing how I’ll react. But I won’t react simply because I know that’s what he wants.
“I don’t need a fucking chaperone. Besides, I have things to do after this, like shopping for some new cloth—”
“Already done for you,” Rogan interrupts as we enter the glass elevator. “Size two clothes. Size six and a half shoes. You like Colgate toothpaste and Lady’s Speed Stick deodorant. You prefer Triscuits over Ritz, and you would drink a case of Red Bull a day if you could afford it.” When my eyebrows rise at his knowledge of me, he continues, “You tend to use cheap perfume, but you’ll find a more expensive bottle waiting for you. Your dog eats whatever you do, but he would thrive better on actual dog food.”
My heart sinks to my feet. “Have you been…spying on me?”
Rogan releases me and saunters to the other side of the elevator car after pressing the button for the ground level. His arms cross over his broad chest, and he looks at me over the top of his glasses. “Anyone entering Dixen Enterprises receives a full background check overseen by Alistair. You know, to weed out any liars or those who wish to enter our services for sinister purposes.”
He pushes off the glass as we begin to descend.
“You see, Ms. O’Brien, everyone wants a piece of us. And soon you will too.”
As my jaw drops open, the elevator doors slide apart, and he waltzes out as if he didn’t just drop that sexual bomb on me. Stomping my foot, I storm out after him, prepared to tell him exactly how I feel, but my jaw only drops open farther when I see him leaning against the sexiest car I’ve ever seen in my life.
I’m almost turned on by it… Okay, I am. My panties are wet from one look.
Sleek lines in a slate gray color glisten in the sun. The car screams luxury and money. When I see the emblem of a golden bull on the front, I know right away what this is.
“A Lamborghini?” I choke out.
“Is that what Frederick brought today?” Rogan turns and glances nonchalantly at the car before facing me. “Hmm. I guess he did. Well, get in then.” Rogan presses something near the handle and the door rises into the air, actually fucking rises, and then he gestures for me to get inside.
After closing my mouth, I march toward him and sink down onto the passenger seat.
Rogan grips the top of the doorframe and leans over me, his scotch-scented breath bathing me in lush richness. “Call one of us when you’re all packed, and we will send a moving truck to pick up your things. And remember, go straight home. No pit stops. You are to arrive at your apartment as soon as possible.”
Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest and level him with a glare. He just smirks and leans down, brushing his lips over my ear. “Don’t be defiant again, Ms. O’Brien, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
My slutty pussy clenches with that dark promise as Rogan pushes off the door and shuts it before heading back into the building.
“Address, ma’am?”
I turn to the man next to me, only now realizing he’s there. “Oh. Umm. Actually, I’ll take a cab.”
Before he can stop me, I open the door and jump out, rushing the opposite direction. I get a cab fairly quickly for Boston traffic, probably due to my wet white shirt.
Hurriedly, I jump inside and give him the address of the police station, praying the Dixen brothers aren’t watching me from above. As the taxi pulls away from the curb, I see the detective’s white van pull out behind us. Relief floods me that I got out of the Lambo before they could stop me. I’m sure there’s a tracking device in that thing, another way to control me.
Fuck, those guys have a lot of rules, choosing what I wear or what I’ll eat. What is it with them? A part of me is excited about it, if I’m being honest with myself. It kinda feels like they are taking care of me, something I haven’t really felt since my parents’ murder.
But then another part of me is filled with fear. If what Rogan says is true, and Alistair has done his own background check on me, then surely he knows I’m a fake. And if he does, then why is he keeping me around? Why did he hire me?
My chest feels heavy with anxiety as we pull into the police station, and I jump out only to realize I have no money.
“Fuck,” I growl out, looking into my purse when I feel a warm body next to me.
