Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
R ockwell
It’s her. The girl from the store. She looks different, her hair pulled back in a bun, her jeans traded for business attire, but it’s her.
I think of Claudia’s words, about how every single woman in the city knows who I am.
“So, you did know who I was,” I murmur.
She hovers in the doorway, half wanting to run. “I’m sorry?”
“You must have known who I was. Looked up my office address and came here to tell me you reconsidered my offer.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not like that. This is all”—she glances around my office, her eyes lingering on the art on my wall, clearly impressed by my collection—“a coincidence.”
“It’s quite a coincidence,” I say.
“Yes,” she says, a firmness in her tone. “It is.”
I don’t know if I believe her, but she’s here now. And if I’m to get Claudia out of my hair, and my fridge, I need a front desk person as soon as possible.
“This is a family business,” I say. “And our family is quite well known.”
“Rockwell. Yes. I saw on the sign.” Her eyes widen. “You mean like the New York Rockwells?”
“Yes,” I say, claiming my family’s famous heritage. “But Rockwell is my first name, now.”
“I see,” she says, giving the wall to my right a nod.
She starts to giggle.
“What?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see what she’s laughing at.
I’m going to kill Claudia. Crossing the room in three strides, I remove the glossy plaque she had made of the cover of Elite Magazine , the one with me on the front, the massive font boasting ‘The City’s Most Eligible Bachelor!’
Taking it down, I shove it in the bottom drawer of my desk. I told my sister to stop hanging it on my wall, but somehow, she always finds a way to humiliate me with that thing.
Ignoring the plaque, I change the subject. “I’m also a member of the Bachman family. Have you heard of us?”
She gives a shake of her head and I believe her.
There’s so much to tell, the changing of my name, the commitments I’ve made to my chosen family, the Bachmans, but it’s too soon to tell if she can be trusted with the truth.
I start with the standard speech we give potential new employees of the family. “The Bachman family is a powerful collection of both relatives and close friends who have chosen to create a life together. We are high profile but prefer our lives to be as private as possible. There are a few rules we have in place to be sure everyone stays safe. And our inner workings stay secret.”
She eyes me. “Um… Okay.”
“If you think you can handle doing good work while keeping our business private,” I gesture toward the open chair across from my desk, “close the door and come take a seat.”
Glancing over her shoulder at the hallway, her only escape route, she tentatively closes the door. I watch her as she walks toward me, folding herself neatly into the black leather chair that’s across from my desk.
I buzz the front desk with my landline, telling Claudia she can go ahead and lock up. “We’re done for the day. I have personal business to take care of.”
“Jesus, Rock,” she hisses into the phone. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do to that poor girl, are you?”
“Night, Claude.” And with that, I hang up the phone, turning my attention to the lovely woman in front of me.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“L-Lily.” She reaches in her bag with a shaky hand. “Do you want to see my resume?”
“My sister already shared it with me.”
“Oh. Right.” She hangs her bag on the back of the chair, waiting for me to speak.
I stand next to the desk, slowly removing my suit jacket. “Do you mind if I get a bit more comfortable?”
She eyes me, fearful but curious. She shakes her head. “No. I don’t mind.”
“Good.” I fold the jacket over the back of my desk chair. Perching my ass against the edge of the desk, I remove the cufflink from my left wrist, setting the blue and silverRBlink in a small porcelain bowl on the desktop.
“Discretion,” I say, “is of utmost importance in this office. Anything you hear, see, or are told, has to stay absolutely confidential.”
She nods. “I understand.”
“I know how girls your age love to gossip,” I say.
She eyes me. “Not me. And I don’t really have anyone to gossip with,” she says.
Hmm… that pregnancy test. Is she not with the partner that was the potential father?
Sensing my questions, she says, “I was broken up with. And before that, my boyfriend—my ex—he kinda pushed all my friends away, you know?” She shakes her head, embarrassed. “You don’t need to know my life story. Just know, I’m discreet.”
“You’ll have to sign an NDA. Do you know what that is?”
She nods. “Sure. No problem. Lots of people in New York have them.”
I lean in, eager to make her cheeks go rosy with blush. “And the need for—discretion—well, it goes a bit deeper than that.”
“How so?” Her pretty brows knit together with curiosity.
“I don’t only demand your silence. I also demand your obedience.” I begin to roll the wrist of my shirt sleeve methodically over my forearm. “And there are consequences should you disobey.”
“Consequences? Disobey?”
“Yes,” I say, never taking my eyes from her face. “Punishments.”
“Punishments?” She glances around my office. “What kind of business is this?”
“Financial. We deal mostly with stocks and bonds. We’re not that far from Wall Street, but we do their work better.”
“Then why the consequences? If this isn’t some kind of…” Her words trail off, her innocence exposed as the flush I’ve been waiting for rises on her cheeks.
“Some kind of kinky sex operation?” I offer.
She shakes her head. “No. That’s not what I was going to say… but what kind of punishments are we talking about?”
My sleeve is now rolled all the way up past my elbow. “Spanking.”
The color drains from her face as she stares at me.
“And for your interview, I’d like to give you a taste.”