Page 48 of Gangsters and Guns


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Chapter Nineteen

ROGAN

Ican’t fucking concentrate with her here. Knowing she’s in the office next to me, waiting for one of us to call on her, does something to me. Maybe now that she’s trapped in our clutches, that secret place I’ve been working on will actually be used.

She’d be a perfect specimen to put through my experiments. I’m already getting hard just thinking about it, wondering how she’ll respond and what noises she’ll make.

I’ve already paged her to come to my office four times today. Each time, she saunters in with her hips swaying and a glint in her eye. Ms. O’Brien is quite aware of what she does to me. Never in my life have I ever needed to chase after a girl. They always seemed to flock to the Dixen brothers… A man for every taste.

In high school, Maddox was captain of the football team, banging all the cheerleaders after Friday night games. Alistair was the class president. Not because he was fucking qualified, but because he was the most popular. He won on a bet, running for office solely because his friends told him he’d never win on pure charm and no talent.

He sure as fuck did. We got so drunk that night.

I wouldn’t say I was a nerd in school. I hung around with all the popular kids. But unlike so many of them, my schoolwork was important to me. Not because I had fanciful ideas of what colleges I wanted to get into, but because I hated fucking failing.

I still hate failing. I need to excel in everything I do on the first attempt, or it drives me insane. My brothers believe I have some form of OCD, but I disagree. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the best and doing anything necessary to become so.

So I fucking studied. I studied my damn ass off and aced every damn test. SAT. ACT. I made them my bitch. Hell, I took the LSAT just for fun and passed that too. Only thing I haven’t taken is my OWL, but if I could ever figure that out, I’d take that too.

But it’s not just schoolwork and books that I’ve mastered. It’s little things also, like picking locks the quickest, and memorizing the playing cards at the blackjack table, knowing I could always win. I’ve studied human reactions, learning every tic a person could make to indicate they’ve lied to me.

I know which arteries to sever to kill a man the fastest, or how to bleed out his body in the slowest way possible. I know which set of blades can penetrate bone the easiest, and which firearms shoot the truest. I can also bake a mean chocolate zucchini bread, but who cares about that?

If it can be learned, I’ve studied it, I’ve mastered it, and maybe that’s why I’m so fucking fascinated with my new personal assistant—because I haven’t mastered her yet. But I will. Oh, I will. I’ll have her on her knees between my legs begging for a taste of my cock, her red lipstick smeared all over her face and her mascara running down her cheeks from tears of pleasure and cries of pain.

Yes.

Rory will be my newest subject to study, to conquer, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

Even if she has the slightest inkling of my dark desires, it doesn’t really matter, because once a Dixen decides he wants something, he gets it. Maddox takes what he wants. Alistair wins it. I make them come to me. Call it reverse psychology, call it whatever the fuck you want, but Ms. O’Brien…she’ll be mine.

I debate calling her in for a fifth time, but what could I possibly ask of her? She’s already emptied my garbage can twice, giving me a great view of her ass. She’s filled my coffee cup, and the fucker is still full. I even had her come in here to bring me a ream of paper, knowing full damn well that I had an unopened pack sitting on my desk.

By the look in her eye, she knows I’m testing her, that I’m bossing her hot little ass around just because I can.

But fuck, that woman needs a strong hand. She’ll respond well to it, with a little training that is.

Glancing out the window, I see a gorgeous sunset painted across the sky. My fingers long to grasp the handle of a paintbrush and watch the colors come to life on canvas. Painting is the only time my need for perfection disappears, because art is never perfect. And that’s what makes it special. Usually, it’s the little nuances and imperfections that make them so beautiful.

The colors in the sky are spectacular. Reds bleed into oranges, pinks, and purples, swirling around each other. Puffy clouds tinged pink from the setting sun are dotted among them, making the whole scene breathtaking.

Taking a picture of it in my mind, I bank it with all the others I plan on putting on canvas someday when I have extra time.

Extra time—what a fucking joke.

Things have been so busy around here. None of us has gotten to enjoy anything in life recently. Every other day, it’s a new problem we have to fix, a crisis to avoid, or clients who need tending to.

And don’t even get me started on Marvin Maloney. Stupid fuck. He deserved to die, but now we have to deal with the ramifications.

I’ve had enough, dammit. Why have all the money in the world when you can’t fucking spend it? I want to live again and do what I want, when I want, like I used to before Dixen Enterprises became a fucking empire.

Flicking my gaze down to my Rolex, I see it’s nearing seven-thirty PM. I have an early appointment I need to get to tomorrow. Knowing my brothers have already left, I move to press the comm one last time to tell Rory she can go home when I smell it.

A wonderful, glorious smell—Chinese takeout.

A moment later, Rory walks into my office looking a bit disheveled, her once nicely curled hair now a bit tangled, as if she’s been tugging on it all day. I notice her shoes are off too, her bare feet padding across my floor. Held in the hands of my smokin’ hot personal assistant, the bags of Chinese food begin stinking up my office in the most perfect way. My mouth immediately starts to water, and it’s not just for the food.

She slams them down on my desk and then looks at me sheepishly. I don’t quite know how to take her reaction. “I—umm… It’s late, and I knew you hadn’t eaten. Hope you likemoo goo gai pan and egg rolls.”

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