Nothing to Hide

NINETEEN

NINETEEN

Roxie didn’t look at the time when she woke up the next day. What was the point? Her only commitments came when darkness fell. There was nothing to rush around getting ready for, not in the daylight.

Still yawning, she rounded into the living room and paused at the sight of Ogilvie standing in the middle of the space.

Unfortunately, he spotted her too. Damn, reversing out to slink away was tempting… if only they hadn’t made eye contact.

“Good morning,” Roxie said, catching her hair in a finger comb to toss it back over her head.

“It’s afternoon.”

Oh, well, that didn’t matter. If he was going to be pernickety, she wasn’t in the mood.

A subtle shrug was her response. This Og wouldn’t be impressed no matter what she said. The balcony would be a better way to greet the day.

“Is that Zairn’s?”

Ogilvie’s question stopped her. What was he talking about? The whole suite was Zairn’s. A look his way revealed he was sneering at her apparel.

The shirt. Right. She’d forgotten about that. “Yes,” she said, lifting the corner to drop it again.

“And you think that’s appropriate?”

Folding her arms, she couldn’t prevent the angle of her hip from sliding into impudent. “I just woke up, I’m wearing what I slept in.” No apology. No less judgment in that leer. “What is your problem with me?”

“You’re trouble.” Thank God the guy didn’t insult her with denials. “We wanted a contest winner who would improve our image. You have a pretty face, but you’re going to be a detriment to us.”

One of her hands landed on her c****d hip. “I’m sorry, is Rouge your company?” His expression grew more disgusted. “I haven’t knowingly done anything to hurt Rouge or Zairn. And, just so you know, Zairn is a big boy. He can make his own decisions.”

“It’s my job to protect him.”

The guy didn’t strike her as the type to back down. Maybe it was her gender or her economic sphere… or maybe he was just an asshole.

“He doesn’t need protecting,” she said. “Not from someone who magically found their way back to him right when he discovered he was a multimillionaire.”

Direct hit. Ha! Take that.

Taken aback, Ogilvie blustered. “What did you…? How do you…?”

Anyone who expected her to pull her punches would be disappointed. She was more than capable of standing up for herself and would prove it any time. Fear didn’t factor. Yeah, she could be a sasspot, but it was no less than Ogilvie deserved in that minute.

Zairn appeared in her peripheral vision.

Ogilvie stared her out. His determination would be funny if hers wasn’t so fierce. No matter if it took all damn day and night, she’d still be there glaring right back.

“What’s going on?” Zairn asked.

She waited a few beats, giving Ogilvie a chance to speak first.

When he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity, Roxie spoke up. “Your friend wants me to strip for him.”

“What?” Zairn barked, as confused as he was offended.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Oh, so you were accusing me of stealing?” she asked. “It’s not your shirt. I didn’t steal from you.”

“I don’t care about the shirt,” Zairn said, approaching. He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “We good, Lola?”

Her eyes rose to his. “We’re good.”

Last night wasn’t an argument. She hadn’t gone to bed mad or holding a grudge. Had he been worried about that? Did it disrupt his sleep?

“Ogilvie doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Zairn said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He doesn’t have a good ear for sarcasm either.”

“Who was being sarcastic?”

The door opened, offering a reprieve. Tibbs entered with Astrid and Greg not far behind.

Was she the last person awake in the whole city or just in their group? Ogilvie was there and Zairn was dressed. If they’d had a “morning” she’d missed it.

“Mr. Hatfield would like a few moments,” Tibbs said.

“What for?” Zairn asked. “We’re due to meet this afternoon, I’m busy now.”

He didn’t look busy. He was just standing there next to her. Not doing anything.

“No, uh, with Roxie,” a sheepish Tibbs said. “He wants a few moments with her.”

She pointed at herself. “With me?”

“If you don’t mind,” Greg said, passing Tibbs. “Thought I could take you to lunch.”

“Sure,” she said. It wasn’t like the invitations were stacking up. “I have to shower and change.”

“I can wait.”

“Okay,” she said. Zairn didn’t move when she turned. Rude. He was in her way. Adjusting her path to go around him, she gestured Greg over. “Come wait in my room. I only need ten minutes.”

“He can wait out here,” Zairn said in a weird kind of guttural voice.

Roxie groaned. “Oh, Greg doesn’t care about seeing me n***d. Even if he did, what’s it to you? You should know better than anyone that one pair of t**s is just like any other.”

“I don’t know that, thanks,” Zairn said, laying a glare on her. “And he’s still waiting out here.”

“Interrupting your secret meeting?” she said, spinning around to walk backwards toward her room. “What if that leads to Armageddon?”

“Then I’ll see you in Hell. That’s where the party’s going to be, right?”

Yes, Zairn was overstepping to think he could dictate what she did and didn’t do. But he was funny, even when he was angry, that covered a multitude of sins.

Raising her arms, Roxie sighed at Greg. “Guess you’re waiting out here. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Zairn and Ogilvie were in the dining area on the other side of the room when she emerged again. Tibbs and Ballard were nowhere around. They’d probably been sent on errands.

Everyone else was going about their day, it was time to get hers started.

Greg loitered in the balcony doorway. When he noticed her, he started to walk, but she shooed him back.

“Go outside, we’ll get privacy there.”

“I can take you out somewhere.”

“We’ll go out after you’ve apologized,” she said, looping an arm through his to take the lead in guiding them outside.

“How do you know I’m going to apologize?”

Sitting him down first, Roxie perched herself on the edge of the patio chair angled toward him. “Because we got off on the wrong foot. We hit it off with the lash thing and then it fell apart when you used the first thing I confided in you in front of the camera. You were snivelly last night, did a lot of brownnosing. A straight apology works better with me. Groveling is less effective.”

“We try to go where the story takes us,” Greg said, holding up a hand when her expression grew more severe. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” she said, resting her shoulders on the chair back. “You did me a favor.”

“I did?”

“Yeah,” she said, draping her wrists on the arms of the chair. “Now I know who you are. Better to know that sooner than later.”

“And it’s my fault that you think I’m that way. I got too excited.”

“And shot your load too soon,” she said, examining her nails on one hand. “I tend to avoid men like that.”

“I hope you won’t avoid me. I shouldn’t have been so heavy-handed. Like I said, this is not reality TV. I’m not trying to trap you. I apologize if it came off that way.”

“It did come off that way. You forget this isn’t my world. Someone screws me over, it’s personal, not professional.”

“I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to make it up to you.”

“How are you gonna do that? I like chocolate and heels… and compliments.”

He laughed, seeming to enjoy her. Although his apology was appreciated, she would remain wary until he proved that his faux pas was a unique misstep… if he proved it.

“Do you want to spend a day at the spa?” he asked. “On us.”

“I was thinking about seeing some sights. There’s so much history here.”

“We can arrange that. Astrid said your handler was due to join us today.”

“I don’t need a handler,” Roxie said, standing up. “You get your guys setup downstairs and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“I can wait if you—”

“I need to make a call,” she said, sweeping her hair away from her shoulder.

While in the shower, she’d missed a call from her folks. Rather, she’d missed another call from her folks. Yes, she’d been avoiding the conversation. With the frequency of their attempts to get through to her growing, putting it off any longer wasn’t an option.

Greg rose. “Calling the ex back?”

Maybe that was a joke. Maybe not. She narrowed the evil eye on him. “Not yet, docu guy. Not yet.”

His laugh joined her on the walk back inside. Without checking what was happening in the dining area, she strode to her room.

Confident. Bold. Two of her specialties.

Dialing her parents, she closed her bedroom door and strolled to the window to get a boost from the sun. Although it wasn’t California bright, Roxie appreciated the familiarity of the warmth on her cheeks.

“Yeah?”

Her father’s abrupt voice startled her.

“Dad, you hate talking on the phone. Put mom on.”

“Your mom’s doing something with her flowers out back. Wait a sec.” Scuffles and creaks carried down the line. “Your mom called your apartment. Jane said you were still out of town.”

So the “wait a sec” didn’t actually offer her a reprieve. Great. “Yes, Dad, I’m still out of town.”

“Thought you girls were coming back from LA together.”

Her mom’s voice echoed in the background. “Who’s on the phone?”

“The middle one.”

Exhaling, Roxie rolled her eyes. “I have a name. You should know, you gave it to me. I’m in Boston.”

“She’s in Boston,” her father said, presumably to her mom.

“Why?” her mother’s voice was distant.

“Why?” her dad asked.

“Dad, if I’m having this conversation with mom, put her on the phone.”

“She’s got her gloves on,” he said. “She’s busy.”

“Okay, well I’m in Boston, I’m safe. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Is this about a boy?” her mom asked, closer to the microphone but still not on the phone.

“A boy?” Roxie asked, tucking an arm under her breasts. “I’m twenty-six. Tell Mom I’m twenty-six and date men. Not boys.”

“Who is this boy?” her father asked, suddenly concerned. “Does he have a job?”

What the…? “Yes! He has a job.”

“Jane said they were in Las Vegas,” her mom said, more likely to her dad than her.

“Did you get yourself hitched?” her father asked. “Are you pregnant?”

And they wondered why she resisted calling them. “I’m not pregnant or married, Dad. I won a contest. I’m going on a trip.”

“What kind of contest?” her father asked. “Is that what this boy told you? Is it a scam?”

“No, it’s not a scam, Dad. It happened when we went to see a show. A TV talk show. We were in the audience.”

“And you won a prize. She won a prize.”

“What prize?” her mom asked.

“I’m going on a tour of some places, Dad,” Roxie answered before he could relay what she’d already heard. “A trip around the world.”

“Alone?” he asked. “I don’t want you going to strange places by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself, Dad. I’m traveling with a group.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better.”

She sighed. “Geez, Dad, make up your mind.”

“Who’s in charge? I want to talk to him.”

Her arm dropped. “No!” she squealed. “Why would you—”

“Who’s in charge of your safety? Are these sensible people? How do I know they’re not going to marry you off to some cult?”

“Dad, what the hell are you reading these days? It’s harmless. I’m with a business guy, he owns some nightclubs and stuff.”

“A womanizer?” her father barked. “She’s with a s*x pest.”

Parents could be infuriating. Hers especially. “He’s not a s*x pest.”

“What’s his name?” her dad asked. Another scuffle, a breeze, the screen on the back door creaked—he was going back inside. “Sonia’s at work. I’ll have her look him up… our laptop’s busted.”

“How did that happen? Blayne looking up p**n on your network again?”

Her younger sister’s not-too-bright boyfriend had been a part of their lives for a couple of years.

“They’re on the outs too,” her dad said.

“Oh, God,” Roxie groaned. “They’re always on the outs, Dad. Learn a lesson.”

“Okay, I have a pen. What’s his name?”

“I’m not telling you anyone’s name.”

If he tracked down the show, he’d see her. One call to Toria would be enough. Her friend would have no hesitation in revealing all about Zairn.

“I don’t trust anyone I don’t know to look after my little girl.”

“Sonia is your little girl, I’m the loud one who always embarrassed you at parties.”

“Put him on the phone.”

Her father had a great way of being in his own head and sticking to his guns.

“No!” Roxie asserted. “Dad, you can’t talk to him, he’s busy.”

“If he’s too busy to talk to me, he’s too busy to keep you safe. I’m gonna get on a plane—”

“No,” Roxie said, the word deep in its simple, definite syllable. “You are not getting on a plane.” Talk about picking the lesser of two evils. “Wait. Just hold on.”

Putting the phone against her shoulder, she went over to peek out of her room. Zairn was on his own at the dining table. Yes! Small victory, but she’d take it. Her scampering over there didn’t distract him from the laptop he was working on.

She prodded his shoulder half a dozen quick times to get his attention. Pasting a wide smile onto her face, she went for gracious.

A twitch at the corner of his eyes screamed suspicion. “Lola…” he drawled. “What do you need?”

“My dad wants to talk to you,” Roxie said, thrusting the phone his way.

“Your father?”

This wasn’t her finest moment, he didn’t need to rub salt into her humiliation. “We’ll argue about it and then you’ll just do it anyway,” she said through gritted teeth, thrusting the handset again. “Talk to him… Casanova.”

An almost tsk came from him as he inhaled and took the phone. “Mr. Kyst? Zairn Lomond.”

Roxie sat in the seat perpendicular to his, resting her jaw on the heels of her hands. She expected to listen, but Zairn got up and walked away.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Zairn said.

His bedroom door closed. Stunned, she pushed her shoulders back. What the hell did he plan to talk about that she couldn’t eavesdrop?

Roxie pounced to her feet. “Asshole,” she whispered but didn’t mean it.

Talking to her father went above and beyond, she owed him, and eventually he’d figure that out.

Didn’t take him long to figure it out. Almost half an hour later, Zairn appeared in her bedroom doorway.

“You owe me.”

Exasperation spiked her adrenaline. Patience was not her strong suit at the best of times.

“Half an hour!” Roxie exclaimed, leaping off the bed to rush over to him. “What the hell were you talking about for half an hour? You don’t even talk to me for a half hour and you’re trying to get in my pants!”

“Guess you told your dad I already did,” he said, handing over the phone. “He asked if we were married.”

Her affect flattened. Trust them to compound her humiliation. “That’s my family.” She was not impressed. “He heard Vegas and thought I’d lost my mind.”

“He asked if you were pregnant.”

“Because my word wasn’t good enough,” she said, her fists jumping to her hips. “And I’ll bet you told him yes since that is, like, your ideal scenario.”

“Knocking you up is high on my list of priorities,” he said with no sincerity. “I’ll tell you more about my conversation, if you tell me what Hatfield wanted.”

Ha! Her chin rose in defiance. “None of your business.”

“Good, then you won’t want to know about the call. You need to give Tibbs your parents’ address.”

Her eyes rolled side to side. “Why do I need to do that?”

“We’re sending them a laptop… You think they’d prefer a desktop? We’ll send both.”

She didn’t know who was trying to kill her fastest, her dad or Zairn. Frustration came out in a growling groan. “He wants to look you up.”

“And he’s entitled to, I’m responsible for his daughter’s safety. What are you doing today? You haven’t worked out yet.”

“Which makes absolutely no difference to my rack,” she said, gesturing at her breasts. “Keep your eyes on these and ignore the caboose.”

She turned to go back to her purse on the bed.

“I like your caboose.”

“I know. Your subconscious told me the first time we woke up together.”

“My subconscious worked out that it would be best to take you from behind… far away from that fresh mouth.”

“I can mock and jeer in any position, Skippy,” she said, throwing her phone into her purse. “I’m a level above expert. You’re way down there in the vaguely proficient region.”

Tossing the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Roxie intended to go out, except Zairn didn’t move out the way.

“You need to tell me where you’re going. Your father tasked me with looking after you.”

“Like you weren’t already tasked with that.” She mock gasped and slapped both hands to her cheeks. “Imagine the PR nightmare if something bad happened to your contest winner!” She tried to go past, but he didn’t budge. “Sheesh, okay, since you’re so adamant I’ll tell you. I’m going out to look at wedding venues. Obviously, that’s what you want to hear since you’re already daydreaming about impregnating me.”

“You have to meet your handler today. I have someone special lined up.”

“I don’t need special or a handler.”

“Someone to take care of your needs.”

“I take care of my needs,” she said, noticing the tilt of his lips. “Yes, that too. You don’t need to hire anyone to do it.”

“Your handler can liaise with my team. Ensure your requests are fulfilled.”

“An assistant? Astrid does all that and she needs me. That girl needs to loosen up and have a good time.”

“You want Astrid?”

“Yes.”

“Done,” he said. “She’ll be with you from now on.”

“Okay,” Roxie said. “Now are you going to get out of my way? You can’t get me pregnant just through sheer will, it would require far more effort… on your part. I’d just lie there thinking about china patterns.”

“You’re unique, Lola Bunny,” he said, enjoying her again.

“Get out of the way or you’ll be unique too. The only one-balled billionaire in the world.”

“You’d have to check them all.”

Shaking her hair down her back, she hitched her chin higher. “I will. I will check them all and I’ll keep hacking at you until I reach my goal. You wanna test me or move out of my way?”

“You don’t want to hear what I want to do right now.”

His amusement was laced with innuendo, but at least he stepped aside.

“s*x pest,” she mumbled, pausing at his side to tap her cheekbone.

He bowed to kiss her offered cheek. “I’ll send Ballard with you to keep you safe.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Casanova.”

Looking after her was his remit, she didn’t know how talking to her father changed that. Still, Zairn had been a sport about the call. Anyone who treated her family with respect scored points. If he hadn’t been respectful, her father would’ve called back the minute they hung up and told her to pack her bags. No, her father was happy, which was odd, but Roxie wouldn’t fly in the face of good fortune. She’d take the win. She needed the win.