AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Before I can stop her, Claudia is flying up the stairs, heading right into Lily’s space. My house is instantly filled with friendly, womanly chatter. Holding my hand to my head, I moan.
There’s no way I’ll be getting that zipper down tonight.
CHAPTER 12
Lily
“Ma’am. Would you like this to come as well?” The man in the blue coveralls points to the ugly coffee table my ex and I bought at a thrift store. It has memories of my old life all over it.
“No.” I shake my head. “No, thank you. That can go in the donation pile.”
It’s strange, getting used to being the one making the decisions. Keep that, get rid of this, pack that. I could get used to giving orders.
As if reading my mind and needing to remind me who’s really in charge, Rockwell comes up behind me, placing a warm, slightly possessive hand around my waist.
“The donations are ready to be loaded in the truck.” He addresses the poor moving man as if he’s been hitting on me instead of just doing my bidding.
“You didn’t have to come. I could have done this on my own.”
“And let you go alone to get your things? Alone to the apartment where you were being stalked? Over my dead body.”
“Not so alone.” Peering out the window, I eye the three plainclothes guards he’s got posted on the street. I offer him a smile. “But I’m really glad you are here. It’s nice to have company.”
He doesn’t know what to do with my softness. He brushes it off. “Uh, yeah. No problem.” Clearing his throat, he changes subjects. “I noticed you didn’t have that many business casual clothes for the office. We’re going to stop by Daughtry’s Clothing after work. Get you a new wardrobe.”
“No. You don’t have to do that. I owe you so much already. There’s no way I could pay for?—”
“Claudia is going to meet us there. To help you pick stuff out. I’m afraid I’m useless with fashion. She chose my wardrobe as well.” He points down to the furniture truck that’s just pulled onto the street. “Oh, and I’m having a few new pieces delivered. For when the all-clear comes back and this guy isn’t around anymore.”
His words dangle between us, the uncertainty of the future hanging in the air. He’d brought a donation truck with us, saying, “May as well clear up things you don’t want while we collect your stuff.”
I didn’t know he’d had new pieces ordered.
I can’t tell if this piece of information makes me giddy with the glee of being cared for, or sad to think that I’ll be leaving the comfort and beauty of the bustling Village to come back here.
And live alone once more.
After a soft new velvet couch and pretty warm wood coffee table are delivered, we leave my apartment, his driver taking us back to his end of town. The brownstones that are quickly becoming familiar to me appear. We reach his office and I’m glad to have some time to process at my desk.
We spend the rest of the morning and the early afternoon at the office, my mind constantly traveling back to the dimly lit room from the night before, and my hands subtly brushing against my thighs every few minutes, reminding me of the marks left behind by the paddle.
I can’t help but feel a confusing mix of pleasure and shame—something that I’ve never experienced before.
As the day comes to an end, we head toward Daughtry’s, the short walk charged with an awkward silence. I’m not sure what to say or how to feel. He’s so close. Just there, next to me, the man who makes me want to explore the sexiest parts of myself. The man who wants to protect me. Yet still a stranger.
As we draw closer to the store, part of me is excited to get new clothes, and another part is nervous about facing Claudia again. I think she liked me when we chatted in his living room last night, but I tend to have a hard time reading other women when it comes to that kind of thing.
We arrive at Daughtry’s, and I notice that next door is a super fancy-looking jewelry store by the name of Bachman’s Jewelers. My jaw almost drops. I ask, “You guys have your own stores?”
“A few. And a gym. And a nightclub.”
I eye him incredulously, thinking my late-night Googling of the Bachman family didn’t do them justice.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. This is uncharted territory for me, spending money on new clothes, especially when it’s not for a specific occasion. But I’m grateful for the gesture, and I want to try my best to find some pieces that will look professional at Rockwell Enterprises.
We enter the store, and the moment I step inside, the beauty of the place overwhelms me in a good way. It’s like walking into your fairy godmother’s closet where she has all the options set up perfectly displayed, the air filled with the delicate scent of expensive perfumes and soaps.
I find myself falling in love with the store even before I go through the clothing with the expectant-looking Claudia. Rockwell fades to the background, stepping outside to make a call. Claudia, who is always the vivacious one, takes the lead. She shows me dresses, blazers, heels. She insists on jeans and sweaters and loungewear, even though I can’t wear them to work.
