Chapter Eleven #2
Unblinking, she nodded and kept her eyes focused out the windshield.
“Hagan contracted a firm to keep an eye on you and your mom. He needed a—”
Roxana’s head snapped to the side. “Watcher.”
“More or less.”
“He paid you,” she hissed, “to date me? And you did?”
“No—”
“Is that what you do? Date women with overprotective assholes in their lives?”
“Damn it, Roxana. No. Listen.”
“I didn’t even know you two knew each other,” she continued. “Once again, I’m the last to know.”
“We didn’t. Babe, listen.”
“I don’t want to listen!”
Jason was half-sure Roxana was ready to throw open the door and jump from his truck. “I met you before I had the assignment.”
“As if that makes anything better. Did we sleep together while you were on the clock? Sex and a paycheck. Sounds like a cush job.”
The accusation was obvious, but he hadn’t known it’d slice into his gut when she lobbed it at him like a Molotov cocktail. His grip tightened on the steering wheel until pinpricks of pain needled his palm. Blood rushed in his ears, and Jason pulled the truck onto the road again.
Roxana ranted and raved. He didn’t listen as she dissected every happy fuckin’ memory under the light of her newfound knowledge.
His molars clenched as they hit green light after green light.
When a yellow light came, he hit the brakes before it turned red and faced her.
“I told you this wasn’t a conversation for the damn road. ”
“Why not?” She threw her arms out. “At least nothing happened, right? I was clueless, but I was safe.”
“Wrong.”
“Wrong, what?” Exasperation poured out of her. “What the hell happened?”
He glanced over and held Roxana’s eyes. “I fell in love with you.”
That wasn’t a fair way for him to end a fight, but Roxana didn’t trust her voice enough to explain.
Her heart lodged into her throat. Too many omissions and lies made oxygen hard to breathe.
She’d known from the first day she met him that he was the man she wanted to marry, though they hadn’t said “I love you” for almost a year.
She wanted to ask Jason questions and map out the timeline. When had they met? What did he feel? Did watchers have direct deposit? How much had his time with her been worth?
And when she got her hands on Hagan? She’d kill him, too.
Damn her brother.
They’d been struggling for money, and that was what he chose to waste his paycheck on?
Her stomach turned. Hagan had approved of Jason’s very personal relationship while paying for his time?
Did that make her brother a pimp? If so, then that made her…
She shuddered and blocked ugly thoughts from her mind.
Still, that didn’t keep her from feeling foolish.
The truck pulled up to a posh hotel. A uniformed man approached the driver’s door to tell them they couldn’t park there.
Jason shifted into park and rubbed a hand over his face. “Ready?”
“Um… Where are we?” Roxana asked even though she knew the location and could clearly read the signage at The Brown Hotel.
“We’re at a hotel.” He unbuckled and nodded for her to do the same. “I promised you a hot shower and food delivered to your door.”
They couldn’t afford a place like this even if it clocked in as the ultimate place to grovel. They weren’t dressed for a hotel like this. Actually, they probably had rules against the way she and Jason looked. “We can’t go in there.”
“We can.”
Roxana shook her head, scared he might be serious. One night’s worth of room service had to cost more than her monthly mortgage payment. That wouldn’t be worth it—especially when she was positive that makeup sex wasn’t on the evening’s activity list. “We’ll go to Denny’s.”
“Not for the conversations we’re going to have.” He gestured toward her seatbelt.
“Denny’s has pancakes.”
“Babe—”
“Five different flavors of syrup.” Panic clouded her thoughts. What if they were arrested when they walked into the lobby? She didn’t know what for. Maybe they were too dirty. She was definitely too smelly to simply waltz into The Brown.
Jason clasped his hand over her thigh and squeezed. “I promise. It’ll be okay.”
She shook her head. What did his promises even mean?
He squeezed her leg again and slid the pad of his thumb over her skin. “You’re okay, Roxana. Everything will be okay.” His hand caught her chin. Jason held her gaze. “I promise.”
Roxana hated the reassurance he so easily conveyed and pulled away. “I’m fine.”
At least, she was almost fine. She took another breath without his fortifying touch, then unbuckled.
Jason limped out of his truck and over to the uniformed man waiting an arm’s length from her door. They spoke for a few seconds before the employee allowed Jason to take his place. He opened the passenger door and helped Roxana out.
Nervous, she wanted to hide her dirty clothes and scraped body. It was late, but people would still see her. They’d know she didn’t belong there.
Jason’s hand lingered on hers. “Ready?”
He’d asked in that way where he already knew the answer, and he’d asked in that tone that she’d always trusted. Roxana nodded and hid the part of her soul aching for faith in him again.
At the reception desk, Jason produced identification and a credit card under the name Roland Crosby.
They checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Crosby. Between the fake names and the hotel’s sweeping two-story marbled lobby, Roxana didn’t lack for new experiences.
Throw in hunger and exhaustion, and she was surprised she made it to their floor without falling over, completely gob-smacked by the very essence of elegance that permeated the halls.
Then Jason opened their hotel room door.
“Oh, my God.” There was nothing else to say.
This wasn’t just a hotel room. It was a lavishly appointed suite.
She stepped in and slowly spun. An interior designer must have planned every square inch of the room.
The wallpaper had a gold sheen and velvety texture, and she swore she could see her reflection in the mahogany furniture.
He tossed their room keys and his wallet on a tiny table. “What are you hungry for?”
“Everything.” She kicked off her shoes and let the giant bed in the adjacent room pull her close. Roxana hated to press her dirty fingers onto the fluffy white comforter, but she couldn’t help it. The sheets were the softest, most delicious thing she might ever crawl into.
“I’ll have new clothes brought up for you.” Jason walked toward a stately desk and reached for the phone. “The shower’s all yours.”
In what world were they living? The answer wasn’t one that she was ready to accept.
She walked into the bathroom, which was bigger than her kitchen.
White robes and thick towels hung by the wall-to-ceiling glass enclosure for the shower which looked more like a sauna.
Perhaps she wasn’t ready to welcome a world of watchers, but since she didn’t have a choice, she’d take advantage of their shower.