by Piper Rayne
I down a big gulp of my drink. “And the venue?”
He pulls out a card from his vest pocket and slides it to me. “Call this number tomorrow. They already have you booked. They just need some specifics.”
“Have a great evening, Mr. Baldwin.” I slide out of the booth unable to sit across from the silver fox any longer without my willpower crumbling and begging him to forget the five favors, just take me home.
“Leaving so soon?” he asks with a cocky grin, like he can read my mind.
“Yes. Goodnight.” I turn and take one step away from the table.
“You don’t even want to know the first favor?”
I stop immediately and turn to face him again, securing my clutch under my arm. “Is favor number one that you’re going to keep me here against my will?”
He chuckles. “No.” He slides out and stands, his hand running down the length of my arm and I suppress a full body shiver. “Favor number one is that I can call you Hannah and you call me Roarke. There’s no more Ms. Crowley and Mr. Baldwin.”
“Fine. Goodnight Roarke.” His name falls off my tongue way too easy, and I can’t help but wonder what it would sound like if I was screaming it while he drove into me.
I am in such deep shit with this man.
He leans in, his light scruff scratching my cheek before his soft lips land where my cheekbone meets my hairline. “Sweet dreams, Hannah.”
Chapter Seven
“Five favors?” Victoria cringes across from me.
Chelsea’s eyes light up.
Two completely different reactions from two very different women.
I always enjoyed our morning recaps at the office but now that it’s me in the hot seat, not so much. They were waiting this morning to find out exactly what Mr. Bald—Roarke wanted.
“Kinky. I like his style,” Chelsea says, the traitor.
Victoria flips through the contract that was waiting in her email this morning. “You’re right, there’s nothing sexual.”
“Seems like a waste.” Chelsea shrugs.
“I take it Dean’s still tapped in? No more tears.” I raise a brow.
“Only from coming so many times.” She smiles and I sip my coffee ignoring the grating jealousy.
I haven’t had sex in way too long and even then, it wasn’t with a man who could do much for me. Having your two friends living their lives with a post-coital glow isn’t easy. Maybe that’s why I signed that contract last night. Subconsciously maybe I thought Roarke would solve that problem for me.
“It’s a little romantic, no?” Victoria hands the contract to Chelsea who flips through it even though I’m sure she’s only really searching for the juicy parts.
“A contract is never romantic.” I lean back in my office chair.
Chelsea tosses it on my desk. “I kind of agree. But he’s gone to great lengths to win you over.”
“My bet is that he’s still only really interested in sex,” I say.
Victoria’s lips dip.
Chelsea’s lips tip up even more. “Perfect. It’s a win-win. You’re not looking for a long-term relationship or marriage, right?”
“Yes. But doesn’t this make it seem like he’s going to win me over by the time this contract is fulfilled and then what? I sleep with him and we both walk away?”
I won’t tell them about how restless I was last night. Lucy kept getting up and moving because of my tossing and turning. Eventually she went to her dog bed on the floor. I can’t help but think I’m being paid for sex in some twisted way.
“Please. You don’t have to sleep with him if you don’t want to. Five favors and he already used one up. That’s four left. You totally have this.” Chelsea acts like my little cheerleader.
“I agree. You do as he says with one arm out. Don’t let him get too close. You were cornered and the fact he’s using his connections over you says what kind of guy he is. So, just do what he asks you to and be done with it. Whatever you do, don’t fall for him.” Victoria’s inner mama bear roars loud.
“Girls, you know I can handle myself. We’re good. No worries.”
“Shame really because I bet he knows his way around a woman’s body. Foxes know how to hunt.” Chelsea stands, taking her box of donut holes with her.
“You’re really taking this whole I eat what I want to heart.” I point to the powdered sugar covering her breasts.
“Shit,” she mumbles and sweeps the white sugar off of her, but it smears.
“Live it up but remember it’s hard to work it off your ass off after the baby’s out. Trust me on that.” Victoria leaves the office.
Chelsea looks at me. “I have no complaints. I’ll just have Tad whip me back into shape.” She smiles through another mouthful of donut and then heads down the hall.
I swivel in my chair to face the skyline of Chicago through the window. Out of the millions of people who live and work in Chicago, how does my path keep crossing Roarke Baldwin’s.
My phone vibrates on my desk and I swivel back around to pick it up.
My dad.
I accept the call and put it on speaker.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, pumpkin. How are things at the foundation?”
“Good.”
“Did you contact that guy for the gala? He said he’d love to speak there.”
“I told you it’s about female empowerment so I’m having only successful women give the speeches.”
“Don’t you think that’s kind of reverse discrimination?”
The highway noise in the background tells me he’s talking on his Bluetooth while driving. Probably on his way to the golf course.
“No, I don’t.”
He chuckles to himself. “I’ve always loved your bullheadedness. Who trained you so well?”
“You did.”
“That’s right. I taught you how to act like a man.”
I roll my eyes. My dad loves me, but there’s no doubt he missed the opportunity to raise a son.
“I’d rather think of it as you taught me to be a strong female.”
He chuckles again like what I said is funny. I toed that line with my dad for years when I was younger—trying to get him to see that his ideas were sexist and his beliefs were from fifty years ago. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting and I don’t want to spend my adulthood in conflict with my dad.
“I told your mother that we had nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I pick the pen up off my desk and start flicking it side to side in my hand.
“I mean so what about Todd, right? We’re lucky to have that bastard out of our life.”
I drop the pen. Whoa, back the bus up. I thought we were talking about me being successful and able to stand on my own? That my mother who has never earned one dollar herself doubted my abilities?
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Todd,” he says louder. Like I’m his golf buddy who turned down his hearing aid. “The announcement of his engagement.”
I spring up and out of my chair. “He’s engaged?”
“Oh, you didn’t know. I assumed you heard before we did. It was all the buzz at the club last night during dinner. Supposedly she’s a nurse at the hospital. Seems a little sleazy to me, sleeping with someone who works underneath you, but his parents were raving about her.”
The pit of my stomach shouldn’t feel as though I just ate a hearty helping of street meat. I shouldn’t give one shit about Todd or his upcoming nuptials.
“He took her to Tahiti or somewhere tropical and had the ring put in some shell and wrote something in the sand. You know me, I zoned out after a little while, but your mother, she was worried about how you’d handle the news.”
I’m sure she was wondering why I wasn’t worth that much planning on Todd’s part. I got proposed to at the club during a Friday night fish fry. Asshole. Now he takes his soon-to-be wife away on my dime for some elaborate proposal?
I clench my fists but don’t resp
ond, unable to find the right words.
“Don’t let it bother you. He’s a jackass and an idiot for not knowing what he had. His parents are a bunch of dimwits. You know I’ve always thought that.”
I giggle at my dad. He might’ve been hard on me and yeah, he’s a bit of a chauvinist, but when it comes to me, he has my back every damn time.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I insist. “It just bothers me that he’s doing it with my money. What good is a prenup if you still have to give away half your shit?”
“Now Hannah, you couldn’t have predicted Grandpa’s death to happen a year into your marriage. Nor the fact he was old school and thought once married you stayed married. The old fool thought he was being nice by putting Todd in his will along with you.”
“Exactly that. Any true gentleman wouldn’t have taken the money, especially when he’s the reason the marriage fell apart. He’s a surgeon. It’s not like he’s barely scraping by.”
“You afforded him a lifestyle he never would’ve had even with being a surgeon. You gotta let that go, move on with your life. I’m sure there’s another guy out there who’s been waiting to snatch you up.”
“Snatch me up? Dad,” I sigh.
“Oh, Hannah, you need to stop worrying so much. So what if Todd got more than he ever should have? He hired a great lawyer. Too bad it was before we could put him on retainer.”
“He wasn’t that great,” I grumble.
“That’s because you were on the opposite end. If he would’ve been yours, you’d have been kissing his feet.”
“I don’t think so.” I pace back and forth in front of the window.
“At least if you get married again and it doesn’t work out, we know who to call.” He chuckles.
I roll my eyes again, happy my dad can’t see me. If he could, he’d tell me that’s no way to behave toward my father.
“No worries there. It was hard enough for me to become a Crowley again after the divorce. I’m not giving up the name a second time.”
That’s the truth. Who knew how hard government offices made it to change back to your maiden name? When I had gotten married, the attendants would smile and ask me when the wedding was, how he proposed, where we honeymooned. When you tell them you’re divorced their lips turn down and they don’t ask any other questions.
Of course then again, what are they going to ask? How many years did it last? Whose fault was it?
“Oh pumpkin, you had one failed marriage. Look at Uncle Harrison, it took him five tries before he found the right one. We just have to protect ourselves better. Next time we know to tighten up the prenup. Simple. Don’t go off and punish every other man because Todd was an ass who was looking for his chunk of gold. I told you I never liked those people from the moment they moved in.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dad.” I smile to myself.
“I’m at the course now. I don’t want you to close yourself off from other opportunities. Your guy is out there somewhere.” He switches the phone off Bluetooth and onto speaker.
“Gregory!” one of his buddies says in the background.
“Great day for golf,” my dad says.
“Okay, talk to you later, Dad.”
“Yep, talk to you soon. Come by for dinner on Sunday. Your mom is worried about you.”
“I’ll try,” I say, knowing I probably won’t.
“Try harder. Bye, sweetie.”
The line dies and I lean my shoulder on the glass window.
Todd’s engaged.
As much as I was happy to sign the divorce papers, I can’t help but wonder, what makes her so special? More special than me.
My phone buzzes from where it still sits on the desk so I step over and see the number I programmed in yesterday on the screen with a notification. I pick up the phone and open it to read the message.
Roarke: Ready for favor number 2?
Me: How did you get my cell phone number?
Roarke: Feel lucky that I haven’t used it until now.
Me: Yay me. What’s the favor?
Roarke: I have to go out of town this weekend. Family emergency. I need someone to housesit.
Me: Housesit?
Roarke: Yes.
Me: Are you asking me to water your plants and feed your fish?
He can’t be serious. He’s going to use a favor for me to babysit his empty house?
Roarke: No. I’m asking you to spend the weekend at my place while I’m out of town. I have a kitten and he’s just getting comfortable. Are you allergic?
Shit, say yes, Hannah. Say you’ll go into anaphylactic shock.
I start to type out the lie and then delete it then start to type it out again, but for some reason unknown to me I can’t hit send on the lie.
Roarke: I’ll take your silence as a no.
Me: I think this is a little over the boundaries.
Roarke: It’s not sexual or embarrassing. Do you find me asking you to housesit demeaning in some way?
Bastard.
Me: Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop?
Roarke: Quite the opposite. I’m hoping you do.
Me: Who are you?
Roarke: I believe I’ve overheard your employees referring to me as the silver fox, but you can just call me Roarke.
Roarke: ;)
Me: I have a dog and I have no idea if she gets along with cats.
Roarke: Puppy?
Me: Yes.
Roarke: Boy or girl?
Me: I take it from all your questions that you don’t still keep tabs on me?
Roarke: You think I had you followed? Is that what you’re worried about?
I don’t answer because I want to say yes, I do. This round robin game we keep going through is growing tired.
Roarke: Back to the puppy and kitten debacle. Bring your dog. If they don’t get along, I’ll give you a number to call for someone else to come over. Deal?
Me: I suppose so.
I’m not going to stick up my nose to such a simple favor. Especially one where I don’t even have to be around him to fulfill.
Roarke: Perfect. I’ll have a key dropped off today and I’ll text you the address. Please keep it confidential. As you’re aware, many people don’t like me and I’d rather they not know where I live. There will be a note on my kitchen counter with directions.
So professional like he’s going to use me as his servant instead of his sex slave.
That thought shouldn’t disappoint me as much as it does.
Chapter Eight
The taxi drops me off in front of the address Roarke sent me.
“Come on, Lucy.” I tug on her leash, but her butt slides along the concrete.
She is not the protective German Shepard I thought I was buying.
I tug a few more times and she finally stands and prances across the concrete until a man spins through the revolving door at the building’s entrance. Her paws halt.
“Come on.” I tug a little bit, but she sits down again, all four paws trying her hardest to grip the cement sidewalk. “Please Lucy,” I beg.
Nothing.
“I don’t want to go in there either, but we’re doing it for the girls. It’s two days and then we’ll be back home.” The dog sitter sounded like a good idea, but I figure if I do bring Lucy and she chases the cat around it’s an easy out for me. Voila, favor number two complete.
Then again, what if I can’t fulfill this favor and he says it doesn’t count?
I shake my head. What are we, in high school? He can’t bully me.
“Lucy.” I kneel down, my overnight bag falling from my shoulder and smacking the sidewalk. I pet her head, staring into her eyes. “Once we’re through those revolving doors, it’s just like home.”
Her head tips down. Yeah, she’s not going for my pep talk.
“Miss?” A man to my side opens up the door beside the revolving ones.
I stand, and Lucy gets to all fours again.
“Please feel free to use this door.” The man is
dressed in his uniform that suggests he’s either the doorman or security.
“Thank you very much.”
Lucy actually follows behind me this time. She does love people.
“Who are you here to see?” he asks, rounding his desk in front of the elevators.
“I’m housesitting for Roarke Baldwin.”
“Ah…yes…he mentioned that when he left this morning. He said you’d have a key.” He punches something on the keyboard. “Hannah Crowley?”
I hold up said key. “That’s me.”
“He also said you’d need a dog walker four times a day?”
“Um…” Lucy tugs on the leash and I pull her back so I can finish my conversation.
“The building supplies it.”
“Would it be billed to Mr. Baldwin?” I ask.
“Well, yes, but he’s already paid for it.”
Great, tack on another favor.
“I insist on paying the fee myself.” I approach the desk, Lucy finding a little girl coming off the elevator much more interesting than the desk.
I extend the leash as long as I can get it to reach the doorman, who I now see is Will, according to his name tag.
“I am sorry, but that’s not possible, Ms. Crowley.”
“Not possible? Surely you can send the invoice to me and not Mr. Baldwin?”
He points to the computer screen. “It clearly says here that if Ms. Crowley tries to pay for the service, then I am to politely refuse.”
All I see is a mask of red. I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing, but I’m about to lose my temper. I do my best to hold it in since it’s not Will’s fault.
“Fine, I’ll reimburse Mr. Baldwin directly then. Anything else in those notes of his?” I air-quote notes because him leaving instructions that pertain to me is utterly ridiculous.
“Seems to be about it. He’ll be home on Sunday.”
I nod. “Yes, I’ll be leaving first thing Sunday morning.”
Will smiles, teeth yellow from what I can smell is probably years of smoking.