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The ones that seem to see right through me.
CHAPTER 4
Rockwell
It’s her. The girl from the store. She looks different, her hair pulled back in a bun, her jeans traded for business attire, but it’s her.
I think of Claudia’s words, about how every single woman in the city knows who I am.
“So, you did know who I was,” I murmur.
She hovers in the doorway, half wanting to run. “I’m sorry?”
“You must have known who I was. Looked up my office address and came here to tell me you reconsidered my offer.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not like that. This is all”—she glances around my office, her eyes lingering on the art on my wall, clearly impressed by my collection—“a coincidence.”
“It’s quite a coincidence,” I say.
“Yes,” she says, a firmness in her tone. “It is.”
I don’t know if I believe her, but she’s here now. And if I’m to get Claudia out of my hair, and my fridge, I need a front desk person as soon as possible.
“This is a family business,” I say. “And our family is quite well known.”
“Rockwell. Yes. I saw on the sign.” Her eyes widen. “You mean like the New York Rockwells?”
“Yes,” I say, claiming my family’s famous heritage. “But Rockwell is my first name, now.”
“I see,” she says, giving the wall to my right a nod.
She starts to giggle.
“What?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see what she’s laughing at.
I’m going to kill Claudia. Crossing the room in three strides, I remove the glossy plaque she had made of the cover of Elite Magazine, the one with me on the front, the massive font boasting ‘The City’s Most Eligible Bachelor!’
Taking it down, I shove it in the bottom drawer of my desk. I told my sister to stop hanging it on my wall, but somehow, she always finds a way to humiliate me with that thing.
Ignoring the plaque, I change the subject. “I’m also a member of the Bachman family. Have you heard of us?”
She gives a shake of her head and I believe her.
There’s so much to tell, the changing of my name, the commitments I’ve made to my chosen family, the Bachmans, but it’s too soon to tell if she can be trusted with the truth.
I start with the standard speech we give potential new employees of the family. “The Bachman family is a powerful collection of both relatives and close friends who have chosen to create a life together. We are high profile but prefer our lives to be as private as possible. There are a few rules we have in place to be sure everyone stays safe. And our inner workings stay secret.”
She eyes me. “Um… Okay.”
“If you think you can handle doing good work while keeping our business private,” I gesture toward the open chair across from my desk, “close the door and come take a seat.”
Glancing over her shoulder at the hallway, her only escape route, she tentatively closes the door. I watch her as she walks toward me, folding herself neatly into the black leather chair that’s across from my desk.
I buzz the front desk with my landline, telling Claudia she can go ahead and lock up. “We’re done for the day. I have personal business to take care of.”
“Jesus, Rock,” she hisses into the phone. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do to that poor girl, are you?”
“Night, Claude.” And with that, I hang up the phone, turning my attention to the lovely woman in front of me.
