3
Abby
Her chest heaved with giant breaths. She threw the man’s arms off her. “Stop touching me,” she spat. “You’re disgusting.” He wore too much cologne, but it was mixed with sweat, creating a pungent odor. It reminded her of the cramped coat closet. It felt as if his scent clung to her leather jacket and sweater.
“Delivered as requested,” he announced. He presented her as if she were some kind of prize cattle at a fair.
“Yes, we can see that.”
She shoved the hair from her face. Abby’s eyes lifted to the men standing in front of her. She felt as if she were a wild cat. Feral enough to pounce on them and attack. Maybe fight her way to freedom. The only problem was she had to get through their hired brute first. She knew he was a wall of pure muscle and outmatched her in every way.
“That’s all we need, Johnson.” One of the men dismissed her escort. “Your payment is in your account. I made sure it was processed immediately.”
“Thank you. Always a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Rockford.”
Abby swallowed. Did he say “Rockford?” As in Deacon Rockford? Her heart hammered harder in her chest.
Johnson chuckled. “Watch out for this one. She’s feisty. You’ll see what I mean.” He blew her a kiss.
Abby glared at her captor as he retraced his steps to the elevator. Within seconds the doors closed behind him and he was gone.
It took Abby a minute to get her bearings. Riding in the back of a trunk had made her nauseated. She had been roughly pulled into the elevator and deposited in front of two men dressed in expensive suits.
Every possible scenario had gone through her head during the car ride. She never thought she’d end up at the top of one of the tallest buildings in Chicago. And certainly not standing in front of the city’s most eligible and famous bachelors. It wasn’t just any office. It was immaculate. Designed with every detail in mind.
“Now that he’s gone, maybe we could introduce ourselves properly. I’m Cole.” As he extended his palm toward her, Abby’s eyes narrowed.
“I know exactly who you are, Cole Evans.”
He dropped his hand.
“Then I assume you know I’m Deacon Rockford.”
“I don’t really care who you are.” She pulled her shoulders back. “What do you want with me?” She wasn’t interested in stroking their egos with how much she had read about them.
Cole smiled. He had perfect straight teeth. Maybe the best smile she’d ever seen. “Perhaps we could start with a drink? We have a full bar. Anything you want. Are you a martini drinker?”
“I don’t want anything of yours. I want an explanation and I want you to let me go.”
Deacon rubbed his chin. “That’s going to be difficult, sweetheart. At least for the next thirty days.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Do what?” Cole asked.
She didn’t want to play games. She had been a member of the Mantelli family long enough to know how these arrangements worked. She had witnessed them, but never thought she would actually be part of one. These were the kinds of things that happened to other people—not her. She had done everything she could to stay out of the business since last year.
“I won’t sleep with you,” she hissed. “Neither of you.”
Deacon chuckled. It was enough to make her want to lunge at him. He had a sexy smile, that made him even more irritating. Did women find his cockiness attractive? Was that how he got his reputation.
“I’m only offering drinks,” Cole stated. “How about a glass of wine so we can talk? No sex right now. I promise. We are at the office, my dear.”
She didn’t want to move an inch in their direction. She didn’t like how they mocked her. Or how apparent their sex appeal was. They had to be close to 6’3” or 6’4”. Deacon was slightly taller than Cole. Along with the height came broad shoulders and chiseled jaws. If she didn’t know better, she could have mistaken them from brothers. One with light features. The other with dark.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Deacon opened a hand toward her. “We won’t bite. We want to talk. Let’s get to know each other a little.”
“I was sold into an arrangement without my consent by my cousin, stuffed in the trunk of a car, dragged in here against my will, and you think cocktail hour is a problem I need to consider? And I hate martinis.”
“That answers one question.” Cole corked the gin and poured a glass of deep red wine. “It sounds like if anyone needs a drink, it would be you. Here. Drink.”
She stormed over to the bar. “Fine.” She snatched the goblet from his hand.
“Good. I hope you enjoy it. Let’s sit.” He pointed to an open chair for her.
Abby took a sit and assessed her new set of captors. Her heart still pounded, but after a sip of wine, she was calm enough to consider a conversation rather than arguing. The rage had settled to a low boil.
Deacon’s dark gaze was distracting. His eyes trailed all over her body. It made her feel strangely uncomfortable and attractive at the same time. Cole didn’t make things any better. His blue eyes were like something out of a movie. She had never seen blue that color before.
They were certainly an upgrade from Johnson and his burly hands.
She took another gulp of wine. Maybe getting drunk was the answer.
“Abby, Deacon and I want you to know you are our guest during this arrangement.”
“Guest?” she sputtered on the wine. “A guest who can never leave? A guest who didn’t accept an invitation?”
She saw the look that transpired between them.
“We don’t have that level of trust yet,” Cole explained. “The terms of the arrangement are that you are to remain in Deacon’s custody for thirty days. I don’t see why as time goes by you can start to have more freedom to come and go. That has to be earned of course.”
Her eyes darted to Deacon. “This is your debt Cal has to pay? You wanted a prisoner?”
He nodded. He didn’t bother to hide his smile. “The best game of poker I’ve ever won.”
“Poker? I’m here because of poker? A stupid game of poker,” she muttered under her breath.
Cole shook his head. “Jesus, Deac. Do you have to be an ass from the get-go?” He traded seats so he could sit next to Abby. Cole seemed to be the more level-headed one between the two.
“Deacon and I are business partners. Co-CEOs to be exact.”
“I know all about HiTech Global. I hate to admit it, but I used to study your graphic arts department.” She bit her tongue. She had studied more than their graphics, but that was a secret she had to keep.
“Really?”
Abby nodded. “I said I used to.” That was in the past.
Cole bit the inside of his cheek and turned toward Deacon. “What’s your background Abby?”
“Are you saying you didn’t get a bid sheet on me?” she mocked.
“I was hoping for something more personal than that.”
“I’m Cal Mantelli’s cousin,” she answered reluctantly.
“No, not that. What are you interests? Skills? Did you go to college? Tell us something about yourself.”
The wine made her feel fiercer than she actually was. The adrenaline had started to fade and she was nervous. She didn’t know if she could handle these two tycoons.
“Yes I graduated the top of my class with a visual arts degree. Why? Are you trying to figure out if that deducts points because I might have operating brain cells? Does that intimidate you?”
Cole pressed his lips together. “No. I like a smart woman.” He rubbed his chin. “I thought you might be interested in a job while you are here.”
Deacon leaned forward. “Cole, we haven’t discussed this. What did you have in mind?”
The men turned toward each other. “We need an artist to design the logo and complete interface for the Rockans Foundation,” Cole answered.
“But that’s a high-level campaign. I’ve been considering candidates for weeks. It’s the pinnacle of the Vegas launch.”
Abby leaned back in her chair while they discussed her. It was no different than Cal.
“She’s here. She has a degree. I think we could use a fresh take on the art,” Cole argued.
“This isn’t the type of project that can be completed in thirty days. It’s our cornerstone.”
Cole smiled. “Perhaps, she’s the type of artist who would like the challenge and would stay beyond the requirement.”
His sapphire eyes landed on hers and her heart stilled. As much as she had tried to be unaffected by them, it wasn’t working.
“I never agreed to any of this.”
Cole exhaled. “I’m trying to make this worth your while. Deacon is right. The art director for this campaign should be a seasoned expert. Someone with years of experience in the industry. Honestly, I think it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for someone without those credentials. Why not take the job for the next month and see what you can do with it?”
“Are you serious?” She cocked her head sidewise. “You’re trying to sugarcoat this with a job offer?”
Deacon smirked. “I’d take it sweetheart. Cole is being more than generous.”
“Right. Of course.” She settled into the chair. “Just tell me. Along with the art, what do I have to do to get your trust so I can leave when I want? Daily blowjobs? Would that work?”
Deacon leaned forward. “You are our guest. You are our travel companion. And we will never order or ask you for anything sexual. Is that understood?”
She noticed how his neck tensed. The easy smile he had faded.
She nodded, yet she didn’t completely believe him. Why else would they want her to stay with them?
“Dinner is at six o’clock,” Cole explained. “We will see you then.”
“Are you dismissing me?”
“Did you need something else?” he asked. “Douglas is in the hall. He will escort you the house. He will show you to your room. You’ll find everything you need there. We will see you at dinner.”
Abby rose from the chair in disbelief. “I’m taking the wine with me.” She clutched the wine and marched out of the office. She had no idea what in the hell had just happened.