TRAGIC: Rook and Ronin, #1 (7 page)

I spit out the toothpaste and rinse out my mouth, then start the bath water and push the plug in the drain of the massive claw-foot tub. Maybe… yes! Bubbles under the vanity! I dump in a lot, far more than I need, but who cares. It's my tub and these are my bubbles! I can use as many as I want.

I worry about getting so excited about all this stuff, and getting used to it most of all. It sucks when you're used to something nice and then you lose it, but if you never have it in the first place, then you don't have to worry about losing it. Right?

That's how I think. And it works for me. Keeps my expectations low-key and my bullshit detector on high alert.

I peel off the clothes and slip into the hot water and enjoy how the bubbles feel as they float over my body.

I think I might be happy.

Maybe.

The last time I was happy I was fifteen.

And that is very sad. But tonight is not a night to be sad. Tonight is a night to have a private celebration that I made it. I'm OK. My eyes are not black and my body is not bruised. I'm OK. I'm safe.

And that asshole is one thousand miles away.

I smirk at this.
Asshole
.

I dunk my head under and shake my hair, then pop back up and relax.

Yeah, that Ronin. He's one cute guy and all. But he's not for me. Even if he is tall and has those amazing blue eyes. I bet if we had babies our kids would totally have the most cornflower blue eyes ever. And dark raven hair. Oh God, we'd make little model babies. They'd need agents at birth.

I am crazy!

Thinking about his little blue-eyed babies. It's fun, in a sixth-grade fangirl kind of way. But I'd rather think about this TRAGIC contract to be honest. And the money that might come with it. I'm not sure how much it might pay or what it involves, but I'm definitely in. Antoine and Elise seem nice. At the very least, they seem on the up and up. So I think I will trust them. And anyway, Elise said I could shampoo hair for a job, so even if the TRAGIC contract doesn't pan out, I still have an apartment and a job.

For a little while anyway.

Ugh. The fear of losing good things creeps back in. I like this new life. I could get used to this very fast and I've never had anything that was even close to being this beautiful as far as apartments go. But Elise gave me the secret. She said keep your mouth shut and do what you're told. So, if that's all it takes to make Antoine happy with me, I can do that. I'll definitely do that.

I pull the plug with my toes and dip under one last time to wet my hair again. I'll wash when I wake up, but right now all I want to do is try out my new mattress. I giggle again as I get out of the tub, wrap a ridiculously extravagant towel around my body, and stumble over to the bed. I only mean to lie down for a second, but once my head hits the pillow, the thought of getting back up to change is just too much.

I slip into sleep already dreaming about Ronin pushing me on the cherry tree swing.

Chapter Eleven - RONIN

I spend the next hour on my own terrace that overlooks the large one down below, just watching the shadows move across her apartment. I can't see anything, so I don't think this is stalking or weird. I just want to see if she's OK. And to make sure she doesn't try to leave again.

Whatever. I want to catch a glimpse of her.

But I don't because the curtains, while sheer, are not really see-though. I see a shadow come and go, like she was in the bathroom for a while with the door open, because the light stays the same. And then no movement.

And the lights stay on.

I have an overwhelming need to find out why she has the lights on and I have to stop myself from going down there and asking her. Is she afraid of the dark? Did she slip and fall and knock herself out? Did she forget to turn them off and fell asleep?

I have to force myself to go back inside, undress, and lie down in the darkness.

But I cannot get her out of my mind.

She's got a past, that much is evident. And it's not a good one from the way she runs from it. But I want to know. If she signs the TRAGIC contract we'll get her social security information and maybe I'll run a background check.

That's devious. Maybe even stalkerish. But if she's an employee, it's my duty. I'd run a check on any new girl who came to us out of nowhere. Which has never happened before. Antoine only takes referrals. Rook not only appeared out of nowhere, she has no agency, no book, and no interest in talking about her past. Bolt was the word Elise used. She might take her money and
bolt
if we don't tread carefully.

So if the shampoo job is a way to keep her, I'll make sure she's trained by Monday. That way we can keep her busy all day, do her second shoot after hours, and then explain the contract and get her to sign it that night.

At dinner maybe. Yeah, Elise and Antoine can make us dinner.

Us?

Shit, I really need to stop thinking of her like this.

This sounds like a plan and when I have a plan, I'm happy. My mind settles down from the day's activities, and I think about her huddled form in the hallway after watching Clare storm out. She was scared. I make a mental note not to scare her. Ever. And then fall asleep dreaming about pushing Rook in the cherry tree swing.

I wake up in the morning—well, after I reach over and check my phone, I realize it's late afternoon. And the second thing I do is pop up out of bed and start thinking about Rook. I wander out to the terrace to see if the lights are still on, but I can't tell. The whole building is awash with golden light from the afternoon sun.

I jump in the shower real fast, pull on some pants, and then head out the door barefoot and shirtless. I skip down the stairs and head straight to the garden apartment. When I get there I can plainly tell that the lights are still on. I cup my hands around my eyes and peek in through the front door window, but I can't see her on the bed, even though I have a straight line-of-sight from this door to that room.

I knock.

And wait.

And knock. And peer in again.

And then punch in the code to unlock the door.

"Rook?" Maybe she left? "Rook?" I walk back to the bedroom and stop short, my breath caught in my lungs.

She's sprawled out naked on her bed, the covers draped around her body, twined around her legs to cover her ass, and one breast is visible as she turns with a moan.

"Rook?"

She bolts upright and all her covers slip down her chest, baring herself to me. "What the hell?"

Her body is perfect. Flawless. Her skin glows in the light that flows into the western-facing window. She's still not fully awake yet and I take advantage of her indecisive moment to study her further. Her raven-dark hair is tousled around her face in waves and she rubs her eyes, breathing hard for a moment from the surprise.

There is no way in hell I'm leaving here without touching this girl. I tug her to her feet and smile as she realizes just how exposed she is and frantically makes a grab for the sheet. She looks up at me, or tries to, because her eyes get stuck on my own bare chest. I grin a little internally that I can shake her up like that. Eventually she pulls her eyes from my body and finds my eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is deep and throaty and I can't contain the chill she sends down my arms. I reach for her hair and she pulls away, gasping a little. "Shhhh. I won't hurt you, Rook." I have her full attention as my hand gathers the hair and pulls it down over her right breast, which is now hidden under the sheet. She relaxes under my touch and I get a wave of courage so I repeat the action, draping her long hair over her left breast.

And then I stop.

We stop.

The whole world stops.

And there is nothing but breathing, heavy with expectation.

"You're beautiful," I whisper as I take her hand and pull it down to her side. She whimpers a little and immediately grabs for the sheet with the other hand. "Trust me," I say. And then I tug on the sheet so that it slips down her stomach and falls to the floor. Her breasts are covered by her tresses, which tumble down her front like a waterfall. "Do you trust me?"

She shakes her head no and looks down.

I brush a finger down her front, lightly dragging it through the hair that covers her nipple, making her bite her lip and let out a whimper. Her eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but at my face.

"Look at me, Rook," I command more harshly than I should.

I can tell she wants to put up a fight, but her will collapses under my pressure and she meets my gaze and then my smile allows her to relax.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks softly.

I gather some hair and drag it over her right shoulder so that it falls down her back and exposes her breast at the same time. Only the city lights streaming through the large window leave her bare. Just the one half of her body is illuminated, the rest is safe in the shadows.

I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. "What do we do here, Rook? In this studio?"

Her eyes never leave mine. "Take pictures."

My phone makes a camera shutter sound.

"We're going to take a lot of pictures of you." I turn the phone around so she can see the picture. It's not the best, it's a phone camera after all, and the light is bad. But it tells her what she needs to know.

"It's pretty," she says, smiling at her first artistic portrait.

"Yes," I say, turning it back so I can look at it. It's fucking gorgeous. "And even though you're standing here in front of me with no clothes on, and even though everyone who sees this picture will instinctively know that you had no clothes on when I took it, they will only see what I allow them to see through the frame of this lens."

She bends down and pulls the sheet back up to cover herself. "You broke into my apartment to teach me a lesson?"

I love her response, it tells me two things: She's not a pushover and she's game for this contract.

"No, I came to see if you were OK. No, that's not true either. I came because I haven't stopped—" My phone vibrates and I lose track of my words. I look down at it and read the text.

"Shit, I gotta go. I'll bring back dinner if you want." I look back at her as I leave the bedroom and catch her shrugging. "Just give me a couple hours," I call out behind me as I leave.

I grab a shirt and some shoes from my apartment and stare at the image of Rook on my phone all the way down to the parking garage. When I get to my truck I realize the real reason I went into her apartment. I don't want to ruin this girl but I'm not sure I can stop it now.

Chapter Twelve - ROOK

Holy shit!

Not only is this Ronin guy able to make all my girly bits shudder, he's got a flair for the dramatic as well. I can still feel his fingertips as they tracked down my breast. And I just stood there and let him do it!

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I laugh. This guy, that's what's wrong with me.

I need air, so I wrap the sheet around me and go out on the terrace. The spring breeze is nice and cool and my head begins to clear almost immediately. I peek over the wall and watch the people down below. It's not that crowded since it's still early evening. The sidewalks are mostly filled with families grabbing dinner. Something I very badly want to do as well.

A large black truck appears from under the building and I catch a bit of music leaking out from the cab. I bet that's Ronin's truck and I bet that text was from a girl. He'll be back with dinner my ass. I sigh and go back inside and start the shower. This tub is cool for baths, but as far as the shower goes, it sucks. There's like one of those kits they use to turn claw-foot tubs into showers, which means I have to stand there and use a hand-held sprayer every time I want to rinse.

"Oh, Rook," I say out loud as the bubbles stream down my body. "Last week you were showering in a homeless shelter twice a week if you were lucky. And now you're all high-and-mighty about using a hand-held sprayer?"

Yeah, getting used to things fast.

This is not good. I've been here two days and I'm being sucked up into this strange life of models and photographers and weird guys named after rogue Japanese killers who think they can order food for you and strip you naked after they break into your apartment.

I finish up in the shower and wrap the towel around me, anxious to get back to the bedroom. My hand slips under the mattress to the money Elise gave me yesterday. I haven't spent any of it and I won't, either. I'm saving this money, every bit they give me here, I'm saving it all up. Because if there's one thing in life I can count on, it's that eventually, no matter how freaking nice that rug is under your feet, someone always pulls it out from under you eventually.

I pull my jeans and t-shirt on and slip back out the front door to make my way into the studio kitchen. There's not much in there, just a fruit basket, some beer in the fridge, and a few frozen dinners in the freezer that have names on little sticky notes attached to them.