Chapter 42 Amara
AMARA
“Mr. Rozanov, I’m not sure this is appropriate workplace behavior,” I tell Ransome.
His hand is up the back of my skirt, firmly gripping my ass, which is mostly bare thanks to the cheeky panties underneath.
Luckily, we are standing in his office, though the door isn’t closed. Anyone could walk in on us.
He would love that.
“Really?” he asks, his voice low and gritty. “Are you going to report me?”
“I could,” I tease and lean my body into him. “Or you could convince me to keep it a secret.”
“Oh? And what kind of gag order would that take?” he asks, and the very idea of what he’s insinuating makes my pussy throb with the fantasy of what it can’t have.
“Let’s start with you not saying the word gag at work.”
“Is that all?” His hand travels down my ass as his fingers find their way under the lace elastic, until there is nothing between his finger and my opening.
“Perhaps you should get creative in convincing me,” I whisper.
“Well, the way I see it, you can’t tell on me if you’re too busy moaning my name.”
With that, he slips his finger inside me. I gasp, then bite his shoulder to make sure no one else can hear our agreement.
“You’re getting my shirt wet,” he says.
“You’re getting the floor wet,” I tell him, and he chuckles before pulling his finger out and letting go of me, jarring my balance and ability to think straight.
Ransome makes his way over to his schedule and his coffee. So much for our normal morning salutations. “So what’s on the docket today, Miss Parker?” he asks after a sip of his coffee.
“You have a meeting with Saad Khalid at nine, a call with Goodyear at ten-fifteen, a pre-lunch meeting with—”
“I meant for you,” he cuts me off, and I stop.
“What about me?”
“Well, I don’t expect you to stay here all night. What are your plans after work?”
“You mean I get to clock out today?” I joke, and he shoots me a look. But it’s a slightly, almost undetectably amused look, and I love it. Two weeks ago, those looks were unheard of.
“Do I not treat you well, Miss Parker?”
“You treat me just fine,” I say.
“Do I need to remind you just how well I treat you, Miss Parker? In the closet, perhaps?”
“Do I need to remind you that you have extra sets of clothes here and I do not? And while people talking about us is part of the fulfillment of our contract, having people talk about me looking disheveled at the workplace is probably not what is being described in the fine print.”
A small snort escapes his throat. I decide to answer the original question before either of us get into trouble.
“I am going to go see my siblings,” I say. “I’ve been making a point of spending more time with them recently.”
Ransome is looking over his schedule. His hint of a smirk has faded a little.
I can’t read his mind, no matter how hard I try.
It’s only the small things, like his lips microscopically turning down a touch or the furrow of his brow or the twitching of his razor sharp jawbones, that tell me something is his mood has shifted.
“That’s good,” he says. “Tell them I said hi.”
I snigger at that. “They don’t even know who you are,” I say.
To which Ransome responds with a simple, “Mm.”
When the clock hits five, I head across town to my old house.
As I drive from bougie high rise apartments and five-million-dollar estates to middle class brick homes and, finally, the neighborhood that has become the deathbed that is my childhood home, I can’t stop thinking about Ransome’s reaction.
Does he not like me coming out here?
Is it because he knows how shitty it is and he’s worried about me?
Or is it that he’s worried someone important or nosy will see me here? Someone in sunglasses and a hoodie, armed with a camera owned by TMZ?
Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, I am not doing this for me. I’m not even doing it to remain close to Ransome, no matter how good the benefits clause has been lately.
I am doing this for them. I am doing this so that one day we can all live somewhere better, away from the past that burns itself into our everyday lives like a rash that won’t quit.
I park the company car in the drive and lock it, a habit I picked up years ago when my car was broken into in broad daylight. The blinds in Bella’s room part, and all of two seconds later, she comes running out the back door.
“Amara! You didn’t tell us you were coming over!”
She envelops me in a hug and tears sting my eyes. I love that, even in her teen years with all her piercings and dark makeup and Doc Martens and fishnets, she still hugs me the way she did when she was little. Like I am her safe space. Like she never wants me to leave.
“You smell good,” I tell her.
“New shampoo,” she says. “It pays having a sister with access to the good shit. This one’s for dyed hair. I bleached it again.”
“I see that.” I pull away enough to look at her copper hair. “So what color are we doing this time?”
“I’m thinking silver.”
“Silver?” I repeat, my skepticism making me sound forty years old.
“Yeah. All the kids are doing it. It’s so slay.”
Slay. Right.
“Well, if you’re going to have new hair, you might need new clothes,” I tell her, and her face lights up.
“We’re going shopping?”
“I was thinking about it. Maybe the mall? We can grab dinner too. I am craving crappy Chinese food.”
“Hell yeah! Let me go grab my phone and my bag. Oh, and I got some new eyeliner! You have to see it.”
As Bella disappears inside, I turn to see Gianni tinkering around in his car. I can’t help but smile. I decide to go see what he’s up to.
“Looking good,” I say, and Gianni jumps, almost hitting his head on the hood. He has a look to kill until he sees that it’s just me.
“Oh. Hey, sis.” His tension easing into a lopsided boyish smile, the same one he’s always had. I’m not sure where he gets it from. Our dad never smiles. Not that I remember.
“Sorry if I scared you.”
“It’s alright.” He rubs the nape of his neck with a greasy hand. “I’ve just had an issue with people sneaking up on me recently, that’s all.”
“The car looks amazing, G. For real. I can’t believe this is even the same hunk of metal you brought home a year ago.”
“God, don’t remind me how long it’s been,” he moans with a grin. “But yeah. She’s coming along.”
“I’ll say.” I run my fingers along the shiny hood and peek in the windows.
“I’d take you for a ride but the engine’s not quite running yet.” He opens the driver door. “You can sit in her if you want though.”
I smile and climb in, taking note of every perfect detail. “Gosh, Gianni.” I shake my head. “This is art, you know that?”
My brother actually blushes, his caramel skin turning slightly rosy in the cheeks. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. And I’m your older sister, so what I say goes,” I tell him. Then I find my mind backtracking to something he said a few minutes ago. “Who’s been sneaking up on you? No one’s giving you trouble at school, have they?”
“Nah. School is fine. I’m almost done. At this point I just keep my head down and plow through to the finish line. I may just be a mechanic, but I will at least have that on him. Pops never graduated.”
“Is it those guys down the street? In the Monroes’ old place? I swear whoever lives there now is just a bunch of squatters.”
“No, they rarely come out. No one ever comes by here. Well, except your boss.”
“My boss?”
Suddenly, my brother is refusing eye contact. “Yep.”
I get out of the car, shut the door, and walk over to Gianni. “My boss came here?” I ask again.
Gianni fumbles around on the tool bench. He doesn’t seem intimidated; it’s more like he doesn’t see what the big deal is. “Yeah. Some Ransome guy.”
With that, I am seeing red. Redder than the car itself.
“Wait,” Gianni goes. “He didn’t tell you?”
That hits a nerve. Because I obviously had no idea.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Weird,” he sniffs and heads back to the engine.
“When was that?”
“Recently.”
Recently? He was here recently?
“What did he want?” I press.
“He didn’t really say.”
“Did he talk to dad?”
Gianni snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, no. He just came over and introduced himself. He showed up in this fancy ass car and a shiny suit. Bro looked like he was straight out of the mob but too pasty for that shit.” He chuckles.
“He asked about the car and told me who he was so I didn’t knock him over the head with the wrench I was holding. I had a beer with him.”
My mouth drops. “You had a beer with Ransome? With my boss?”
“Yeah. And we talked about cars. You know… I get the feeling he used to race.”
“Really.” At this point, I’m fighting the urge to grab a beer myself.
“Yeah. He knows cars, I could tell that much.”
I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”
Gianni approaches me then, his face a little more serious. “Listen. He seems like a solid dude. And I know he pays you well. Eliza nearly shit herself the last time you sent money. But I still think you should watch yourself, sis.”
My eyes meet his and I realize my little brother isn’t a kid anymore. In many ways, he hasn’t been for a long time. But right now, I see it even more. My brother is on the edge of being a man. “What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think he’s legit. And under that stuffy, expensive outer layer, he’s kind of a chill guy. But under that layer…” Gianni pauses for a second. “I think he’s hiding something.”
I do my best not to swallow before I respond. I don’t want him to detect anything. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. But men like him… they’re always hiding something. All that status and money. The way he carries himself. I just think you should be careful, you know? Don’t get too close.”
“I’m ready!” Bella pops out of nowhere. I jump, then force a smile.
We say goodbye to Gianni, who turns on some kind of new age metal music before he goes back to work on his car.
As Bella and I drive to the mall, I can’t help but think about Gianni’s words.
Hiding something.
Watch yourself.
Inside, all I could think was, You have no idea.
But that’s not the part that really made my stomach bottom out.
Don’t get too close.
I definitely wasn’t going to tell my protective little brother, but I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that.