Page 70 of Rogue
And . . . I’m stubborn.
See, Jaxson. When I want something, I take it, too.
Except . . . he doesn’t see. Hell, he won’t even make eye contact. I abruptly glance up, anxious to prove this theory wrong and catch him staring at me. The rickety chair beneath him creaks. Like it, too, is angry with me for returning to the Ranch. The two seasoned professionals next to him are clearly pissed off. And uncomfortable, their muscular bodies far too big for the folding chairs by the wall of books in which the three of them are seated in.
Nope. Nada. Jaxson’s ignoring me, keeping his head bent as he intently scrutinizes the thick packet of paperwork Hayden’s handed him. Acting as if what’s listed inside is what’s infuriating him so when I know better.
A sense of loss washes over me. Less than forty-eight hours ago, I’d been on my side and curled into him. Loved. Comforted. Hopeful, while I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Only to be shaken awake, plopped on the back of his Harley, and dropped off in a rush at the Shelby Quick-Mart, all because of Hayden’s rude, threatening, get-your-ass-back-to-the-Ranch wake-up call.
You sign this contract, you’re his.
I give a mental sigh and sit up straighter in my leather chair, the same one a nave, angrier version of myself sat in four weeks ago, I focus on finishing up the contract before me. Yeah, I’m still out for revenge, but it takes third fiddle to my reasons for agreeing to work for a ruthless, manipulative man I detest.
“About the manila . . .” Francis repeats. He clearly hasn’t learned that with Hayden, there’ll be no prompting. That his awkward silences are intentional. A wordless weapon meant to put you on edge. Humble you. Make you understand exactly who’s the boss and who’s to be obeyed.
“First, we have to clarify a few minor contractual details. Unofficially, of course,” Hayden finally says.
I do my best not to react to his harsh tone.
“Okay . . .” Francis replies anxiously.
Perfect segue.I lean forward in my seat. “Terrific. So do I,” I inform him. “Officially, of course.”
Hayden arches an eyebrow.
Using one finger, I pass my contract across his desk, careful to keep my finger pinned over the two amendments I’ve made.
His eyes narrow as soon as he spies what’s been added. One:Said contractor shall be given permission to attend to family needs, with little notice and at no set time duration as long as aforesaid assignment is addressed.Two:Said contractor shall reside off premises but will report to the Ranch or assigned territory previously agreed upon.
“Sign on the line and then we’ll chat,” I tell him.
For all my bravado, I swallow hard as he sits back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest, and stares at me. Damn it. If he won’t agree to let me go home to Mama . . . and Madelyn, though I’ve kept my lips firmly sealed about her existence. Not even Jaxson knows. “I’d like to meet your family,” he’d told me. Yeah, I’d been about to confide in him but I’d fallen asleep.
“I like my ducks to be lined up a bit neater than what you’re requesting.”
Ducks. Right.“You mean you demand absolute control over my life. My every movement.”Or you think you will—I’m a bit of a rule bender, buddy. You’re going to have your hands full roping me in.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.
“I can only sign if you agree to my amendments.”
He taps his pen on his desk, and I readjust myself in the leather chair, preparing for a long, drawn-out wait.
“Here. I signed without a single change.” Francis thrusts his contract at Hayden, but when Hayden doesn’t take it, he’s forced to drop it on the desk.
“If you screw up, they’ll be consequences.” The warning is directed at me.
Yeah, it’s abundantly clear what the consequences will be. Case in point being the three men listening carefully from their seats to my right. Two of them have had to repeat Hell Camp twice. Jaxson, an astonishing five times in five years. Yeah, I understand what might happen if I mess up.
“You talk to anyone about TORC, unintentionally spill the beans, or intentionally rat me out, give me any reason to doubt your commitment, and you’ll be terminated. Unconditionally.”
Holy shit. Did he just threaten us?
“Mierda,” I hear Diego swear. A hush falls over the room as I turn my attention toward Diego . . . and the man seated next to him.
Jaxson’s eyes connect with mine. He shakes his head, slightly and ever so quickly, before turning his attention back to the paperwork.
But I catch his meaning, nevertheless.No. Don’t do it. Don’t sign. You’re making a mistake.
