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“It is.”
Thinking about Richie’s family makes me a little sad and I suppose it’s because of my own yearning for one. I’ve never had this. The American dream. The family that spends its day caring for one another and falling naturally into the role as a soccer mom, or whatever the kids are into. Sleepovers, visits to the coast, the usual things families take for granted.
My own upbringing was nothing like that and I doubt my future includes it either. It’s partly why I headed off to Canada in the first place. To visit my friend and do something normal for a change, bake cakes in her new bakery and try to fit in with society. I told myself it was what I wanted. Mason was what I wanted—it wasn’t. I have stepped so far over the line I’ve lost sight of it and the only family I have now are my MC club and Chase.
Leaning back in my seat, I think about my brother. Older than me and just as lost. We were saved from a nightmare and ended up in The Rubicon. The home of The Twisted Reaper MC–sanctuary. When Chase went into training to become a member of the club, I insisted I join in. They wouldn’t hear of it, but I wore them down gradually because there aren’t many roles for women at the club that suit me. Becoming one of their whores was never going to happen, despite the fact they are drop dead gorgeous and every girl’s dream. The only other way was to become someone’s old lady, and while it was tempting, it wasn’t my dream.
So, assassin it was, a strange choice for a young girl to make but one destiny thought would be a good fit for me—and it is, most the time, anyway and yet there’s still that deep yearning for what Richie has.
I can tell he’s concerned because of the expression in his eyes through the driver’s mirror, and so I shake off my mood and drag my mind back to business. It’s always business for me because my polite conversation is always for a reason—information, so I say brightly, “What’s it like working for Hunter, Richie?”
“Good, thanks.”
“Is it though, or are you just being polite?”
He laughs, “I’m always polite.”
“I figured.” I laugh and think about Hunter Blake and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go in for deep conversations with Richie when the day is done and probably never even lowers this glass partition.
Digging a little further, I say lightly, “I expect you are kept busy driving him around town in the evening mainly, what’s his favorite place to visit?”
“He doesn’t go out much except when he has to, most of my evenings are free.”
“Your wife and family must be pleased about that.”
“They are, I think.”
He laughs and I notice we pull up outside another huge skyscraper and I’m guessing this is where Hunter lives. Richie swings the car down a ramp into a gated underground car park and I imagine this piece of real estate doesn’t come cheap. He pulls into a bay near an elevator and says, “This is Hunter’s private elevator. You could use the front entrance but he always prefers to use this instead.”
“So, he doesn’t need to make conversation with anyone, I’m guessing.”
“Something like that.” Richie laughs and I think about Hunter again. It’s just not healthy the way he lives. It’s almost as if he purposefully avoids having contact with normal people, and I wonder about a man who does that.
Richie opens my door and I smile my thanks. “So, what happens now, do you head back and wait for the great man, or do you head home?”
“I wait. I live out of town, so it’s easier to wait.”
“If you like you could hang here until then, watch a movie, grab some lunch.”
Just thinking of this poor man hanging around Wall Street just to drive Hunter ten minutes home makes me a little annoyed and the shock on Richie’s face makes me laugh a little. “I don’t think Mr. Blake would be happy about that, Lexi. No, I’m good, I just wait in the basement where most of the drivers hang out. We have a television there, pool, food, it’s not a bad way to earn a living.”
“Are there many drivers there?” I’m a little surprised because I never knew there were so many lazy men in New York. Surely, they could use the subway like everyone else.
“It’s Wall Street, Lexi. They don’t operate the same way we do. All they think of is money and how to earn more of it. Normal life doesn’t apply to these men and women. They don’t follow the same rules and things that most of us take for granted, wouldn’t even enter their heads. You’ll get used to it. It stops being strange after a while and becomes normality. It doesn’t take long.”
He smiles and presses the button for the elevator. “I’ll show you around and then leave you to it. Rosalie may still be there but she could have left already.”
“Rosalie is his housekeeper, right?”
“Yes, she usually works mornings after he’s left and makes sure she’s done by lunchtime. Like me, she has a family and this job suits her because she can spend the rest of the day with them.”
“So, Hunter never sees her.”
“No, he prefers his privacy but expects his home to run smoothly.”
“So, what does she do exactly?”
“Clean, stock up on provisions, the usual stuff.”
“Are there any other staff I should know about?”
“Just Miss. Baxter, who takes care of his business requirements, organizes his diary and makes sure he doesn’t miss his family’s birthdays, that kind of thing. Then there’s Alto, his personal trainer. He comes on weekends around 5am and some evenings if required. I think that’s it.”
“He has it all worked out, the man’s a machine.”
Richie smiles and I see the curiosity in his eyes as he tries to figure out where I fit into all this. I know Hunter has told his staff I’m his girlfriend. It’s the cover story that we break at our peril and yet I’m seeing how strange that story is now I know a little more about this man because who in their right mind would want a man like him?
This life isn’t normal, it’s an existence and the man who engineered it all is not even likeable. I need to step things up because the sooner I complete this mission, the happier I’ll be because the thought of spending weeks in this sterile environment is liable to break my spirit and send me crazy and that is not a good thing—for anyone.
