Rook and Ronin Box Set: The Complete Alpha Billionaire Series (Books 1-5)

by Huss, JA

  I wait for some sort of direction, but he waits too. “Well?” I finally ask. “You want me to live in the garage or what? Let’s get this show on the road.”

  He waves me forward, then a beep sounds as the lock disengages and the doors to the lower-level lobby open. It’s pretty nice in here. Couple couches off to the side. Nice tiles on the floor, a rug. The elevator dings and we both enter and watch the doors close behind us.

  “This is weird,” I say, mostly to myself, but also to the stranger who now has me alone inside an elevator.

  “Apparently not weird enough to stop you from taking this ride,” he quips.

  “No, not that weird.” I look up at him and I’m about to elaborate but the elevator stops and the doors ding out a request to exit. “Well, that was quick, at least.”

  “It’s the second floor. I’m sorry, that’s all I have available besides the penthouse. But at least it’s not the ground floor. I’m sure you’d feel safer on the second story.”

  I say nothing to that. I’m not worried about being attacked. I mean, yeah, it could happen. And I’m a girl, so most men are a lot stronger than me. But I’m not just any girl. I’m Veronica Vaughn. I’ve been fighting boys my whole life. And maybe being alone with this guy is a bad move, but a whole shitload of people saw me leave my apartment with him. He says he’s the owner of my building that is temporarily condemned for asbestos removal. I have no red flashing lights for this, so I’m gonna ride it out.

  He stops at a door, pushes a key in, then opens it wide so I can enter. I do.

  He flips on the lights as he enters behind me and I walk forward into a stunning apartment. “It’s furnished?”

  “This is the model for this complex. All the units are sold, save for the penthouse. So it’s no longer being used. It hasn’t been listed yet, so I’ll hold off on selling until you figure out what to do.”

  “What to do? I’m not sure I follow. I get to go home once that whole removal thing is over and come up with an alternative place to live, right?”

  He smiles one of those indulgent smiles people save for idiots and my blood boils. “No, I’m sorry. We’re going to remodel the entire building. Your apartment was not for rent, but the landlord”—he practically seethes that word—“rented you the apartment, took your money, and ran off with it. It was a mistake. So you’ll have to find other accommodations immediately.” He pauses to assess my reaction, but I hold it in. “But feel free to stay here as long as you need to.”

  I’m just silent. What do I say? Thank you for kicking me out of my place?

  He drops the keys on the table near the door. “Well, let me know if you require anything—”

  “But… my clothes? My stuff? When can I get my stuff?”

  That stupid indulgent smile is back. “We’ll have to see how the decontamination goes.”

  My jaw drops. “What? But… I have, like nothing. No clothes, no—” I stop complaining because he’s thrusting a credit card at me.

  “It’s prepaid, one thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn. But I really need to go and take care of the penthouse. We’re having an open house tomorrow and that coordinator is about as efficient and trustworthy as Mr. Golden, I’m afraid.”

  And just like that he turns to leave.

  “But wait—” Holy hell, Ronnie, get a grip. He’s gonna think you’re some pathetic loser who wants to jump his bones if you keep stopping him from leaving. “My boss is in the market for a place. I’m not sure if he wants to buy or rent, but I need to show him a place today. Maybe I could just take him up there and you can show him around?”

  “Now?” he asks, like this is the most stupid request he’s ever heard. “I’m afraid I have pressing matters that require my attention. But I will instruct the doorman in the main lobby to give you access if you bring him by tonight. Otherwise he can look during the open house tomorrow like everyone else.”

  And then he walks out.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I live here?

  I twirl around and take it all in. It’s really beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than Rook and Ronin’s apartment down in Denver. There’s an L-shaped beige couch complete with a myriad of throw pillows along one wall. A giant TV. Not like those paper ones they put up in furniture stores. It’s real. There’s a pretty coffee table complete with magazines and large colorful expensive-looking books.

  I walk over to the French doors and peer out over the large square balcony. It’s only the second floor, so I have a view of some trees. They don’t have leaves yet, but they might in a few weeks.

  Will I still be here by then? I’m confused.

  I walk down the hallway peering into the first bedroom. It’s decorated as an office. It even has a computer. Real, like the TV. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Just a regular one with a tub and stuff. But then I turn left and walk on until I come to the master bedroom.

  I don’t gasp, I laugh. Because holy shit! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. King bed, large dark wood dressers, another huge TV, and an en suite bathroom that has a large oval jetted tub and a separate glass shower.

  My phone buzzes in my pack that’s still slung over my shoulder and I fish through it, hoping it’s Rook calling so I can tell her about this amazing turn of events.

  It’s Spencer. But I need to talk to him anyway, so I press his face. “Hey, I was just gonna call you with that appointment.”

  “You were, huh?” he asks, with, like, zero enthusiasm.

  Does he have to be such a dick all the time?

  “Yeah, I found you a penthouse in those new condos on Mason Street? Well, they’re having an open house for the penthouse tomorrow, but I got you a private appointment tonight.” I stop talking and get silence. “If you want it.”

  “Where have you been all day?” he finally says after several long seconds. “I’ve called a dozen times and it went straight to voice. You were out of area. Where were you?”

  “Uh…” I scramble for my alibi. What was it? “Well, I sorta had a big day, Spence.”

  “That right?” he says in that voice that tells me he thinks I’m full of shit.

  “Yeah, my apartment, well, you’re never gonna believe this, but—” I stop. Because that was not the alibi. It was Rook’s doctor’s appointment. “Um, well, I’ll tell you if you want to see the condo.” Silence. He’s mad. Or suspicious. Or something. I’m suddenly so glad I’m at this place and not my old apartment, because I had nowhere to stash the bike over there. Here I’ve got it safely tucked away down in the parking garage. “So… do you? Want to see it?”

  “Will you be there?”

  Oh, what a dick. “Yeah, I’m the one showing it to you, remember?” Asshole, I add privately.

  “The ones with the red roof?” he asks.

  “Yeah, them. I’ll meet you downstairs if you’re coming.”

  “Be there in five.”

  And then I get the I-hung-up-on-you beeps.

  Chapter Eleven - Spencer

  She sorta had a big day? She sorta had a big fucking day? That takes her incommunicado?

  Yeah, fucking right.

  She’s lying her ass off, that’s what she’s doing.

  Ronin already called. He cornered Rook coming out of the women’s clinic. And yeah, she had a doctor’s appointment all right, but Veronica was not with her when she came out. So if Ronnie tries to tell me that shit, I’m gonna lose it.

  How the fuck am I supposed to keep this woman safe if she’s about as predictable as unexploded ordinance? I figured giving her an assignment today would keep her busy, but not this busy. She is most definitely up to something.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have left her wanting this morning?

  Too late to worry about that. I flip the shades down, slap the half-shell helmet on my noggin, and climb on the bike. I kick it and then back out of the garage. Ryan peeks his head into the storage bay where we keep our rides to see who’s leaving, and then flashes me a little salute
and disappears.

  I rev the engine and take off with a squeal. The Mason Street Condos are less than a mile away, so I’m already there before I can get any more thinking time in. I pull up to the front, then back the bike along the curb and shut her down.

  The condo building is brick. Brand new—they just finished this complex last summer. I look all the way up to the penthouse. It’s only eight stories tall, so it’s not like some big high-rise. But in Fort Collins, eight stories is tall. I take off my helmet, leave the shades down, and climb the steps to the building. The door opens automatically and I find myself in the foyer of a luxurious lobby.

  Ronnie is waiting at a desk off to the right, which in my opinion make this place look a little bit more like a hotel than a place to live. But what the fuck do I know about luxury living? Ford’s Denver condo had a lobby too, and there was a doorman and a desk.

  But that was Denver. This is FoCo.

  The lighting is dim in here, so it takes me a few seconds of walking towards her to realize what she’s wearing. I stride up, my boots making a dull thud on the polished floors, and look down at her as she talks, waving her hand at the guy at the desk.

  I don’t even see that guy. I see her. Wearing my fucking bike jacket. Wearing biker boots. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s sporting a backpack instead of a purse. She has a chipped nail on her right hand.

  I completely ignore every word coming out of her mouth and grab the sleeve of her jacket. “What the fuck is this?” I ask, my eyes blazing.

  Her words cease mid-sentence. “Uh…” She looks nervously at the desk guy. “You left it at my house years ago, Spencer. I’ve always had this jacket.”

  I figured that much. I know I left it there. But that’s not what’s bothering me. “Why the fuck are you wearing it?”

  She gives me the I’ll-get-you-back-for-this-caveman-shit-later laugh, and once more looks at the desk guy. “Spencer,” she starts calmly. “Do you mind curbing the language? We’re here to look at the penthouse.”

  I glare at the desk guy. “Let’s do it, then.” I need her alone anyway. I’m not gonna get any answers out of her with this guy hanging around.

  He gives me one of those disgusted sighs most people reserve for guys who look like me, then hands her the keyless remote for the condo.

  Veronica reaches for it with her dainty hands. “Thank you, Charlie.” She beams at him. And then she turns and walks over to the elevators.

  I give Charlie another glare, complete with eye narrowing and growling, and his eyebrows go to the ceiling in surprise. I turn and follow Ronnie, who is now holding the door open. I walk in and she clicks the remote and the penthouse button lights up as the doors close.

  “I don’t like that guy. In fact, I don’t like this place.”

  Veronica sighs and shakes her head, but she says nothing. We stand in silence and I get angrier by the second as I ponder the limited reasons why she might be dressed up as a biker. She’s scowling at the doors, pretending I’m not here.

  The doors ding open and I follow her into the condo. It’s massive. The entire floor. “How many square feet?” I ask as I walk over to the windows to take in the view of the mountains. Nice.

  “Three thousand plus, two bedrooms, three bathrooms, office, formal living, formal dining, and a media room. The kitchen is this way.” She leads me past the dining room and into the kitchen. “It’s staged for an open house tomorrow, but if you’re interested, I can see if Mr. Mansi wants to sell the furniture too.”

  Uh-huh. She wants to play tour guide with me? Pretend like this day never happened? I can play. “How you get over here? You walk?” I look her dead in the eye as she lies.

  “Yes.”

  “Why you carrying a backpack? Just trying to make shit easier as you hoof it around town?”

  “Uh…” She squints her eyes at me. She knows I’m trapping her. “Yes, actually. It’s more practical. Carries more, too.”

  “Have you made plans to buy a new car?” I volley back.

  “Yeah, my friend Carson is gonna take me looking later,” she lies again.

  “Did you know Rook went to the doctor today?”

  She sighs in defeat. “What do you want, Spencer? You want me to say no? Yes? Which one is the right answer? You want to know what the fuck I did today? Huh? You want to know how I found this place? You want to know who Mr. Mansi is?”

  “Yes, yes, and motherfucking yes,” I reply as I pace the kitchen. “I want to know all that and more.”

  She smiles and I steady myself for the explosion.

  “Well, Mr. Shrike, I’ve been a very busy girl today. And since I’m on the payroll, I guess I do owe you an answer.”

  I nod my head. “Damn fucking right you do, woman.”

  She laughs a little at my caveman impersonation. Bomb loves the caveman, so I’m not worried.

  “Well, I didn’t go to the doctor with Rook, nope. But I did see her today. She had to go out to your farm to pick something up.”

  “Hmmmm,” I hum out as I start putting the pieces together.

  “And since I had all that money from selling the car you bought me for graduation, I decided to buy her bike instead. And I actually did get an invitation from my friend Carson to go car-shopping with him, but I turned him down because I’m good as far as the whole ride thing goes.”

  “You bought Rook’s bike? You bought my fucking bike? You purchased my fucking bike?”

  She smiles a smile that’s so big, the sun bounces off her perfect teeth and makes them sparkle. “I sure did.”

  I just stare at her. “Are you fucking insane? What the hell is wrong with you?” I pace the kitchen and rub my hands over the short stubble on my head. “Goddammit, Veronica! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  I turn back, waiting for an answer. But she simply smiles.

  “You’re gonna sell me that bike back.”

  “I am not,” she says calmly.

  “Are.”

  “Not. I bought it, I just had it registered, I have insurance on it. And I’m gonna ride the fuck out of that bike all damn summer.”

  I realize I’m going about this all wrong. All wrong. So I stop and take a deep breath. “Veronica,” I say softly. “Bombshell, listen—”

  Smack! My face is stinging from her slap.

  “What the fuck was that for? Jesus Christ, Ronnie—”

  Smack!

  I palm my face and stare at her. Her brows are knitted together, the tight muscles in her jaw are contracting, her little fists are clenching. “Don’t call me that name again, Spencer. I mean it. We’re done. You think you can use my body any way you see fit in the back alley of a donut shop, then walk away like I’m some piece of trash not even worthy of reciprocal pleasure?”

  I spin on my heel so I can smile and she can’t see me. She’s pissed that I left her hanging?

  No, that can’t be all of it. She’s had this day planned. She knew what she was doing before I showed up and fucked her in the alley.

  She’s still yelling at me, calling me names, insisting I’m a pig. But I tune it all out as I plan my next move. I only got one as far as I can tell. I mean, I can bring out the big guns, but it’s not time for that yet. So this will have to do.

  I turn. She’s all red-faced, still spouting off about this and that. I walk slowly up to her and she points her finger in my face. I grab it and she gasps.

  “What are you doing?” Her eyes are wide as I bring her finger to my mouth.

  She swallows.

  My other hand comes up and grabs her at the wrist so she can’t break away when I start to suck on her fingertip. I bite it, and she tries to pull back, but I have her good now. “Come closer, Veronica. Don’t back away,” I say in a low rumbling voice.

  “No,” she gasps. “No. No, no, no. I’m not getting caught in your—”

  I lick the length of her finger, then dip to the sensitive webbing of skin just above her knuckle.

  “Ohhh, hell
,” she whines as my tongue flicks back and forth between her fingers.

  “I can do more than this, Bombshell.”

  I wait for the slap, but she opts for the hard swallow again.

  I push her gently over towards the granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. It hits her at the waist and she has to bend backwards, because I do not stop pushing. “What are you doing?” she whispers and looks around nervously.

  “I’m gonna make it right,” I say as I nip her finger again.

  “Oh, God, Spencer—”

  I lift her ass up and place her on the island, still pushing forward hard enough to force her to ease back. She resists placing her shoulders and head on the stone, but I let go of her finger and place my hands on either side of her, rubbing up against her tits.

  “You’re mad at me?”

  She nods.

  “For leaving you feeling like a whore this morning?”

  She nods again.

  “You want me to treat you like my princess? Like I care?”

  She looks away at this part and my heart cracks a little. She wants that so fucking bad. I pull her up and kiss her mouth. I lick her lips and she opens for me, pushing back against my tongue. I know her mouth. I know her tongue. We don’t kiss. We dance.

  She moans.

  “Veronica,” I breathe into her.

  “Spencer, please don’t do this to me. I can’t take it anymore. I’m at the end here.” She starts to cry.

  “Veronica,” I say again as I undo her jeans and drag the zipper down. I pull her off the counter and hold her until she stands up.

  She won’t look at me. She can’t tell me to stop because she wants it so bad, but she can’t look at me either.

  I put her back on the counter and then tug off her boots, letting them thunk to the hard tile floor.

  She covers her face with her hands.

  “Lie back, beautiful. And take your hands away from your face.”

  She obeys without hesitation but her face is red and her eyes are wet once she uncovers them.

  I pull her jeans and her lacy pink panties down in the same motion, then let them drop to the floor. She stays still until I lift her by the shoulders and make her sit up again. “Open your legs, Ronnie,” I whisper in her ear. She tucks her head into my shoulder, but her legs obey.