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“See that it doesn’t,” he growls before the door to his office slides shut. He must have engaged some kind of privacy shades or something, because suddenly, all the glass is no longer transparent.
I have the weird urge to flip him off, but I don’t.
“Don’t worry about him, Rory. Not all animals can be tamed.” Turning back, I find Alistair resting his ass cheeks on the top of my desk with his head cocked to the side. He has a smile on his face that shows off his teeth, which look bright against his tan skin. He threads a finger through his dirty blond hair and gestures toward my chair. “Take a seat. Let’s get this day started on the right foot.”
Pulling my chair out, I sit down, cross my legs, and fold my hands on my lap, ignoring Maddox and focusing on Alistair. I don’t like the position I’m in with him sitting so high above me. It puts him in power.
He hands me a folder. “Here. Inside, you’ll find the schedule for the day. Each day, the first and last thing you will do is check the schedule. You should know when each of us have appointments. If we need to leave and why. You’ll also be able to better gauge your start and end times every day by referencing the schedule. A full calendar is available to you on your laptop. It’s synced with all of ours, so you’ll always know where you’re needed.”
He reaches across my desk and slides the laptop in front of me. “Go on. Open it.”
“May I have the password?” I request as their three faces glow once again on my screen.
He smiles. “Of course. It’srorypodb. All lowercase.”
Rorypodb?
What the hell ispodbfor? I search my brain, trying to figure it out, but come up with nothing.
“Aren’t you going to type it in, Rory?” he asks on a chuckle.
“Yes, of course,” I reply, forgetting myself for a moment. The background shines with the Dixen Enterprises logo. Alistair shows me around the computer, and I feel so stupid. I’ve never used a touchpad before, and it’s like I have two left hands. He ignores my difficulty, letting me take my time to learn how to use it.
While I’m searching through the calendar, he reaches down and deftly unbuttons the top button of my blouse. “There. Much better. You looked too…formal.” My face heats. The wire is nestled right between my boobs. If this blouse gapes too much, he’ll fucking see it and know what I am. Not to mention, I felt the soft brush of his fingers, which sent a spark of arousal shooting through me.
Anxiety flares, but I do my best to ignore his stare and how the wire feels like it’s burning a hole into my skin, branding me. I need to talk to Bronson. I can’t wear this thing anymore. I’m too paranoid of getting caught to even pay attention to what’s happening.
“Any questions?” he inquires before taking a drink from his thermos. I watch as his Adam’s apple moves up and down his throat, the action somehow erotic. Since when do I find blood and Adam’s apples so arousing? Have these guys drugged me or something? Are they using some kind of hypnosis or brainwashing me while I sleep?
“Yes, actually,” I finally respond, remembering what drew my attention earlier. “What’s in this drawer? It’s locked.”
Mischief glints in his blue eyes, and he pushes off my desk to stand before me. He leans down and grabs the armrests, caging me in the chair. His scent washes over me, so masculine, so very sexy. He smells like money and wealth, the same way he smelled back at the jewelry store.
I try not to think about that day because I know he saw me then. But does he remember me? I might never know the answer to that question.
“Let’s hope you never find out, Rory,” he croons, running his nose along the column of my throat. My breath hitches as I feel his lips brush against my skin, and my nipples tighten behind the lace bra. I can feel him smile against me before he rises and saunters to my door. When he gets to the exit, he turns back and observes me with a smug look on his face. “Or better yet, let’s hope that you do.”
With that cryptic response, he leaves, the sound of his shoes moving toward his own office as I’m left to stew in the aftermath of the morning.
I watched a guy get his ass beat, stepped over pools of blood, had one of my bosses pull my hair, and had another unbutton my shirt.
And it’s only fucking nine o’clock.
Sighing, I know one thing for sure—it’s gonna be a long fucking day.
