“I thought you were eager to get rid of me.” I opened the screen again.
“Normally, yeah.” He grabbed the screen again and shut it. “But not with Hank out there. He can track you down in an apartment. But if you’re here, he can’t mess with you. The only way you’re leaving is if you move in with Calloway.”
When I opened the screen again, I kept my hand on the edge so he couldn’t close it again. “First of all, you don’t tell me what to do. I’m not sure how you forgot about that. And second of all, I can’t live with you forever. You have your life, and I have mine.”
“Rome, I don’t mind having you here. Honestly.”
“I know. But we’re both adults. We’re too old to have roommates.”
He grabbed the top of the screen.
This time, I growled through my teeth.
He quickly pulled his hand away like I might bite him. “As long as Hank is a problem, you either live with me or Calloway. That guy is dangerous, and we both know it. I’m not bossing you around, but we both know there’s no other option right now. Unless you find a roommate that’s a former member of the KGB or something.”
“I think a member of the KGB would be more dangerous than Hank.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Hank would definitely back off.”
All I needed was Calloway. With one look, Calloway would scare him off in a heartbeat. But I wasn’t ready to take that road—not yet. If I told Calloway what had happened, he would be so upset that he wouldn’t be able to see reason. Hank would end up in a dumpster somewhere on Long Island. “Alright, I won’t move—for now.”
“Good.” He left the couch and headed into the kitchen to grab a beer. “So, are you nervous for tomorrow?”
“Yes.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.
“Did you wrap up things with For All?”
“Yeah, it was pretty easy.” Actually, it was pathetic how easy it was to close down my business. I didn’t have very many donors, and the ones I did have didn’t have a lot of capital. My volunteers found other jobs within the snap of a finger. And I happened to be at the end of my yearly lease anyway. Now I had one less thing to pay for.
6
Calloway
Rome was a tough cookie who could take care of herself. She’d experienced more adversity than most people I knew, and as a result, she stood tall on her own two feet. When someone tried to rob her, she pinned his ass to the floor and called the cops. She could handle living in rough neighborhoods because that’s what she was accustomed to. She was proud, strong, and spunky.
Her only hint of innocence was her virginity.
Which I took—gladly.
But I was relieved she wasn’t working in that tiny office underneath a Chinese restaurant in East Manhattan. Every time I walked inside, no one else was there. If a guy gave her a hard time, it wasn’t like she could scream for help. She was handling a dying business all on her own, but she’d refused to walk away out of misplaced pride.
But now she would be working for me.
Truth be told, I thought she would be a great addition to the staff. Hardworking and compassionate, her heart was in this for the right reasons. She was grateful for the new salary, but money didn’t mean anything to her.
Honestly, she should be the one running my company.
I looked forward to working with her every day. When we were in our respective offices, we wouldn’t bump into each other often. And if I made an excuse to walk into her office every single day, people would immediately suspect what was going on.
But could I really keep my dick in my pants?
That was a hard no.
I usually got to work an hour later than the rest of the staff because I was up late at Ruin. When I dropped off Rome at her apartment, I swung by the club to check on things. As a result, I needed that extra hour of sleep before I hit the gym and went to work.
My secretary handed over my messages as well as my schedule for the day. I had a lunch meeting with one of our most charitable donors, so I wouldn’t be able to sneak off with Rome. But it wouldn’t hurt for me to pop into her office and say hello on her first day. So, when my secretary took her morning break, I planned to stop by.
I just had a feeling I would never leave.
Rome’s office door was left open, so I stood in the doorway and stared at her. She sat behind the large mahogany desk with her MacBook open on the wood. A vase of flowers rested on the corner along with a pink mug full of an assortment of pens. A single picture frame sat on the surface, a picture of her and Christopher at Coney Island.