Chapter Fifteen

Oh. My. God.

Quinn stood in the middle of the driveway with her arms at her sides and her body frozen. Her eyes continuously darted from right to left, left to right, with her neck craned, staring up at the house. It was… huge . Massive would’ve been a better description. The kind of home she’d seen in movies but never in real life.

The house was on a slight pitch with a grand marble staircase that started out wide and narrowed toward the landing with four large pillars. Quinn knew nothing about styles of houses, but it was certainly a new take on construction. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it was a bit over the top.

“Quinn.”

She’d heard her name, but she was so enthralled with the house she couldn’t tear her eyes away. It’s just so big. She cocked her head, counting the windows on the second floor. Eight. Did that mean rooms? Who needs eight rooms?

“Quinn.” This time, Jared’s tone was stern, and she looked over. He was standing beside her, stone-faced, as usual.

She blindly pointed forward. “This is Rogue’s house?”

Jared raised his brows, glancing up at the house. He was holding a box of her things. All her things. Clothes and sketchbooks were all she had to her name, and they all fit in one box.

“Yes.”

Quinn cocked her head. “Does he have roommates?” Surely, a house this size couldn’t be for just one person. Or maybe it could.

“Just Rogue.”

And now me. She sucked in a breath, eyeing the house once again.

Jared started up the stairs, and she hurried to follow him. She sidled up next to him, reaching out for her box.

“I can carry it.”

“No.” His stern tone left no room for negotiation.

“Oh, okay. I’m not used to chivalry. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jared furrowed his brows. He misunderstood. She felt the heat rise to her face, and she held up her hands, shaking her head.

“I’m not hitting on you,” she blurted, making the already awkward moment even more so. “Not that you’re not handsome, because obviously you are.”

His brows dipped lower, and she realized in an effort to keep the conversation light, she’d made it awkward, going in the opposite direction. “I know that sounds like I’m hitting on you, but I’m not, I swear. I just thought your girlfriend, if you had one, was lucky.”

She smiled with a nod, realizing quickly that she hadn’t made amends to her previous statement. Shit!

She cleared her throat. “I mean lucky because you carry her luggage, probably open doors too. That’s all, I swear.”

Jared eyed her suspiciously.

She drew in a breath, pointing to the house. “Should we go in?”

Jared turned without a word, walking up the stairs, and she followed. He pressed the code, purposely standing in front of it. It was clear he wasn’t about to share the code with her. Not that it mattered. From how things were going, she doubted she’d spend much time alone. For others, it would be a hindrance, but for Quinn, she basked in it. Even if no one was talking with her, she enjoyed being around people. She thrived on it.

Jared opened the door and stepped back, gesturing her through the door. This time, she kept quiet about the chivalrous gesture. But I’m thinking it, Jared.

“Thank you.” Quinn walked in and stepped to the side. He’d barely closed the door when she looked around and gasped. She should’ve expected the inside to match the exterior, but nothing could’ve prepared her for Rogue’s home.

Oh. My. God.

Warm and welcoming wouldn’t be words she’d use to describe it. It was extravagant and over the top in true Rogue fashion. The entry alone was a bold statement. If these walls could talk, they’d be bragging, “Do you know how much this cost?”.

A lot.

It was decorated with deep colors, dark, yet the stark white marble floors were a complete contrast. It shouldn’t have worked, yet somehow it did. His taste was beyond anything she’d ever seen. Some might call it gaudy or braggadocios. The corner of her mouth curved as she peered around the foyer. It’s so Rogue.

Jared walked her through the main hall, pointing out the rooms. “The living room, den, library.”

Rogue had a library? She blinked, trying to take a peek inside, but Jared was moving quickly, and she rushed to catch up. He pointed to the left.

“Formal dining room. Kitchen is down the small hall, along with a guest bathroom.” Jared pointed to the opposite side of the house. “Garage and carport are over there, and the pool is in the back.”

Quinn gasped. “He has a pool?”

For a few years, when she was a kid, she’d loved the local town pool. She went every chance she got. Until they started charging an admission. Her father refused to pay the minimal fee.

“Yes. Hot tub and the gardens are around the back.”

A pool and a hot tub? She walked toward the picture window, looking over the yard. It was like a resort. She’d never seen anything like it in real life. She scanned the neatly mowed lawn and the perfectly sculpted landscape donned with vibrant-colored grounds and a tree-lined perimeter.

It was perfect.

“Come on,” Jared said, and she was just about to follow him out when she caught a flash of movement.

What the…? Quinn smiled.

“He has dogs?” Quinn pressed her hands against the window. She counted about five. All large breeds. Two German Shepherds, two Doberman Pinschers, and a large, brutish dog she couldn’t quite identify. “He said he didn’t have pets.”

“They’re not pets,” Jared said, and she glanced over her shoulder. “They’re security. Guard dogs.”

“Yeah, but they live here. That makes them Rogue’s dogs.”

Jared’s gaze hardened as if sending a warning. “It makes them Rogue’s staff.”

Oh…

“Are they friendly?”

Jared looked as though she’d grown another head. “No.”

Quinn flattened her lips and followed Jared down the hall. He pointed to the closed door at the end of the hall. “Rogue’s office. It’s off-limits to everyone.”

Quinn gave a sharp nod, eyeing the door. She was so focused on his office that she hadn’t seen the man emerging from the doorway.

“Hello. Quinn, right?”

She spun around to face the man. He looked to be about forty, handsome with dark cropped hair and brown eyes and dressed in a formal shirt buttoned to his neck. He offered his hand with a friendly smile.

“I’m Rio. Rogue’s chef.”

Rogue had a chef? Who the heck has a personal chef? Like in their house? Quinn glanced up at Jared, who merely stared back at her. Thankfully, she remembered her manners and shook his hand.

“Hi.”

Rio stepped back and spread out his hands. “Welcome. Rogue didn’t mention any of your preferences, but please feel free to tell me what you’d like, and I’d be happy to make it for you. If you have any allergies, just let me know.”

What the heck is happening? Preferences? Allergies? She only had one and regretted mentioning it the second she said it.

“Pollen.”

Rio widened his eyes, looking over at Jared. Obviously, that wasn’t what he meant. He’s the chef. He’d been referring to food allergies. This was almost painful for Quinn. She felt the heat rise through her chest, blasting her face. Shit!

“I’m sorry. That’s not what you meant.” She felt the rush of heat evade her whole body.

Rio laughed. “Pollen sucks, Quinn. The runny nose, sneezing, coughing, and that tickle in the throat that you just can’t get rid of. And don’t get me started on my watery eyes. The worst.”

That was sweet. And kind. And she recognized it wholeheartedly.

“How about you tell me what you like? Your favorite meal,” Rio asked.

For someone who made cereal her dinner most nights this almost felt like a trick question. What do I like…what do I like? Why was it so hard to come up with her favorite meal on the spot? She blurted out the last meal she enjoyed.

“I like mac and cheese.” It felt like the wrong answer speaking to a chef, but Rio’s eyes lit up.

“I have an amazing recipe for lobster mac and cheese. Made it a few times for Rogue, and he’s enjoyed it. Would you like that tomorrow night?”

Wait, what? She was still stuck on the lobster part of the mac and cheese. Did he mean there’s lobster in the macaroni and cheese? Quinn had never even tasted lobster. But in mac and cheese?

“Is that a thing?”

Rio stilled, glancing up at Jared. Oh shit, I did it again. Before she could say a word, Rio smiled.

“It is a thing. In fact, it’s a fabulous thing. And it’s tomorrow night’s dinner. You’ll love it, Quinn, I promise.” Rio winked and walked back to the kitchen.

“Quinn,” Jared called, and she immediately turned, following him a few steps. At this point, she was in a complete haze.

He walked her down a small hallway off the main entry and pointed to the door.

“This is your room.” Jared opened the door, stepped back, and gestured for her to go in. She walked in, stopping two feet away. The décor was dark, with brown drapes, a mahogany dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the king-size bed. “There’s a private bathroom and closet to hang your clothes.”

Quinn resisted the urge to snort. She barely had any clothes to hang, but she wouldn’t vocalize it. Jared walked to the bed, placed the box of her things down, and started back to the door.

“There’s around-the-clock security set up outside. If you have any concerns, just reach out to them. I’m not sure what time Rogue will be coming home, but if I had to guess, it’ll be late.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding as she looked around the room. While the décor was draped in warm colors, the room seemed cold. I’m so out of my element.

“Quinn?”

She glanced over her shoulder to Jared standing in the doorway with his hand on the knob. “I didn’t know lobster mac and cheese was a thing either. But it sounds pretty good.”

Ah, Jared, thank you. Quinn chuckled with a nod, and he closed the door.

Quinn peered around the room. It was all too much. People really lived like this? Quinn didn’t. That thought alone was forcing her back into her own reality. She hadn’t had any conversation with Rogue after the Kahill meeting.

This had gotten complicated. Quinn needed to talk to Rogue and lay it all out for him. While she could rationalize her part in the deal with Kahill, it didn’t make her any less guilty in the initial plot. She’d played a part, even if it hadn’t amounted to anything. I need to tell him everything. That was the hard part, knowing it might change everything between her and Rogue.

I don’t want to lose him.

****

This motherfucker!

Rogue’s tolerance for anything involving Killcreek was hanging on by a thread. The last thing he needed was any combativeness. And Ace was giving it to him tenfold. Fucking asshole!

“I don’t give a shit.” Rogue tightened his grip over the phone. “You work on my schedule.”

The chuckle across the line only infuriated Rogue more, boiling his blood and clenching his fists. No one got under his skin more than the Killcreek Drifters, with their president leading the brigade.

“You said Friday. We set it up for Friday. And—”

He refused to allow Ace to finish. “Yeah, motherfucker, and I changed it. You’re gonna fall in line ’cause you work for me.”

It might have been a stretch on Rogue’s end. While he did control the deal, it was a joint venture with Killcreek. A fact that Rogue had yet to come to terms with.

“Rogue, brother, this is a partnership.” The taunting in Ace’s tone only riled Rogue more. Ace knew what he was doing, and Rogue was falling for it. If he’d been Trey or Oz, he’d have handled it differently. They had a certain control that Rogue lacked. However, no one was more domineering and volatile. They all had their strong suits. Unfortunately, this wasn’t Rogue’s.

He punched in the code and swung open his front door. “This isn’t a fucking partnership. You work for me, asshole. And you’re gonna do exactly what I fucking say. Are we fucking clear, Ace?”

“Yeah, whatever you say, boss .” Ace’s condescending tone only riled him up more.

Rogue didn’t bother with an ending. He hung up and stalked through the hallway of his house. His home office was at the end of the hall, past the kitchen. He was halfway there when he heard the distinct low but high-pitched tone.

“It sounds amazing, Rio.”

Her fucking voice. It did something to him. His muscles tightened, and his blood rushed through his veins as he slowly angled his head toward the doorway to the kitchen. He could only see her backside. Quinn was bent over the counter with her elbows resting on the granite and her hands clasped. It was a good enough view. She wore a faded and well-worn pair of jeans as if they were the only pair she owned. In retrospect, they could’ve been.

Rogue was already running late for the meeting with Oz. He should’ve walked to the office, but he made a detour to the kitchen.

Quinn stood across the counter from his chef, Rio. It seemed they’d met. It was no surprise since he himself had ordered Jared to take her to his house and show her around. Rogue wanted Quinn comfortable in his space. But not too fucking comfortable. He eyed the interaction. Even in his overly possessive phase, it seemed innocent enough.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

Quinn glanced over her shoulder and widened her eyes before a bright smile emerged from her lips. I fucking like that.

“Hi.”

Rogue stalked through the kitchen, and Quinn straightened, watching his every move. He bumped up against her back and gripped the counter, caging her in.

“Rio’s making dinner.” She said.

“Yeah?” He eyed his chef. Rio had worked for him for over six years. A master with food.

“He’s making roasted pork loin, caramelized potatoes, asparagus, and French bread.” Quinn pressed her hips back, butting up against his cock. He couldn’t be sure if it had been a calculated move or her innocence showing. Either way, he grasped her hips, holding her in place. And showing his possession. He stared back at Rio, who flattened his lips and nodded, walking over to the stove.

“And he’s going to make lobster mac and cheese tomorrow night.” Quinn glanced over her shoulder, clearly excited with the menu.

“You like that?”

“I’ve never had it.” She chuckled, her cheeks pinkened, and she lowered her voice so only he could hear her. “I’ve never even had lobster.”

Something shifted in Rogue. It went beyond possession. If she wanted lobster every day of her life, she’ll fucking have it. Quinn would get everything. Rogue would make sure of it.

He straightened and jerked his chin to Rio.

“Let her know when dinner is ready.” Rogue let go of the counter and dropped his hand to Quinn’s hip.

“Let’s go.” He nudged her, and she immediately started out of the room.

He expected her to head to the stairs. Nothing surprised him more when she went toward the spare room next to his office.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Quinn pointed to the small hallway across from his office. “To my room.”

What the fuck? The spare room downstairs was usually reserved for Sal on the rare occasion he’d spent the night. Other than Sal, it was never occupied. Rogue never entertained overnight guests—until Quinn.

“Jared said I could sleep here.”

Rogue ground his teeth, cursing his own ignorance. He hadn’t given strict instructions on where Quinn would spend her nights. As much as he enjoyed highlighting others’ mistakes, this one was on him.

“Get your shit.”

She rushed inside, and he could see her scramble, grabbing her clothes on the bed and shoving them in a cardboard box. A fucking box. Rogue narrowed his gaze, feeling the heat through his veins. Everything his woman owned fit in a small box.

She was back in the hallway twenty seconds later, a little out of breath and on high alert.

Rogue didn’t give her any instructions other than curling his finger, but she followed him up the stairs. Besides his master suite, there were four other rooms on the second floor, all equipped with full bathrooms and walk-in closets. When he’d constructed the house, the architect had tried to talk him out of the design, advising a more homey feel. Rogue shot that idea down immediately.

Two of the rooms had been converted into a gym and a lounge, leaving two spare bedrooms. One down the hall and one next to his room. The obvious choice would’ve been to put her at the farthest point from him for safety measures. It was probably Jared’s mindset when he put her in the downstairs bedroom.

He grabbed the handle and swung open the door to the room. She leaned past him, brushed against his arm, and peeked inside.

“Oh, my God.” She gasped.

Rogue stared down at her. She reminded him of a time when he was younger, getting an insight into how the other half lived. He’d gotten out and moved up. Quinn hadn’t. She walked farther into the room, turning as if to take everything in. When she spun around to face him, she had a wide smile reaching her eyes.

“This is really nice.” She peered around, biting her lip. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Surprise, Princess.

He arched his brow. “This is my room.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks pinkened. “I’m staying in your room?”

Rogue smirked. “Where else would you fucking stay?”

Quinn sauntered toward him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He refused to. Mine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his chest. Rogue felt her heat and a surge of possession had him wanting to grab her, lift her up, toss her on his bed, and fucking take her. And he would’ve if not for more pressing matters.

Mainly her safety.

“Are we going to have dinner together?” she asked, snuggling up against his chest.

Fuck!

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” She backed away slightly and shrugged, forcing a smile. “Are you leaving?”

Rogue drew in a breath, pulling her closer. The last thing he wanted was to leave her. But…

He hardened his stare, tightening his hand over her back. “I’m gonna go clean up your mess.”

Quinn blinked, and before she could say another word, he drove his hand up to her neck, angled her head, and kissed her. He weaved his hand through her hair, deepening the kiss. Her tongue slid past his lips, tasting. Fuck! He tightened his grip, breaking from her lips.

“I want you in my bed.” He glanced over her shoulder and lifted his chin. “Naked and waiting for me.”

“Okay,” she whispered in a breathy moan. He pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss and turned, walking out of the room. He made it to the landing of the stairs, just as Quinn poked her head out from the doorway. Her pouty lips and blush-drenched cheeks were enough for him to reconsider his meeting.

“I was hoping we could talk. I…”

Talking was the last thing on his mind. But…he’d make time.

“Later.”

Quinn clamped her lips and nodded.

He walked down the stairs without another word.

*

Oz’s club was set up much the same as the Bowery, though the security was different. Oz’s men were always on high alert. It made sense. Out of the three of them, he was the most at risk. Everyone wanted a piece of The King .

Usually, meetings were set up well in advance unless it was an urgent matter. This would send up red flags. Fuck!

Rogue stalked through the back entrance and down the long hall.

Trey stepped up next to him. “I’d just like you to remember we need Oz on this.”

Rogue clenched his jaw. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”

“Just a reminder. You go in hard, and we may not get the results we want from Oz.”

Rogue scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll leave the ass-kissing to everyone else.”

They were a few feet away from the door to Oz’s office when Trey pushed past him, blocking his path.

“You want Quinn safe? Then you do whatever is needed. Sometimes, that means you put your pride aside and lose your arrogance, Rogue. This is about Quinn right now. Not you. You want to ensure her safety, then you have to get Oz on board to back it.” Trey narrowed his gaze. “You know this.”

Rogue rolled his neck and arched his back. Trey was right, and Rogue knew it. But he was also hardheaded, stubborn, and didn’t do well when challenged, especially coming from his brother. It had more to do with power than anything else. It would be a struggle.

Rogue opened the door and walked in, ignoring Nash and heading straight for Oz’s bar. Rogue’s was fully stocked as well, but his brother had a far bigger range while Rogue stuck with what he enjoyed. He glanced over the selection and whistled.

“How much did this fucking set you back?”

Oz circled around his desk, glancing over at the bottle Rogue held. “I didn’t bother looking at the price.”

Rogue scoffed, shaking his head. They’d come a long way from their very humble beginnings.

Rogue filled a glass with high-end whiskey and downed it, clenching his teeth. It was smooth with a fiery bite. It was meant to be sipped and savored. Expensive, just the way Oz liked it. Rogue poured another glass and walked over to the seating area.

“I’m assuming this impromptu meeting isn’t a social call.” Oz looked between him and Trey. This was usually when Trey would step in and give all the details and logistics of a deal or issue. It was the way it’d always been handled in almost every situation. Trey had the gift of a certain finesse Rogue lacked. Fucking charming .

However, this was different. Rogue eyed Trey, who was standing near the sofa. Rogue passed him, taking a seat across from Oz.

“Ran into a problem. Kahill wanted a deal. I ain’t giving it to him. He’s not fucking happy.”

Oz arched his brow. “Care to elaborate?”

Trey cleared his throat, rounding the couch and sitting beside Rogue. A united front. It would either work in their favor or raise suspicion. Trey rested his elbows on his knees. “A few weeks ago, we had a cash exchange. The runners came up short by about ten grand.”

Oz lifted his chin, eyeing Rogue and Trey. “The incident you mentioned last week?”

Rogue battened down his emotions and gave a curt nod, trying to keep his temper in check.

“Who was the purchaser?” Oz asked.

“Dillon out of Grove Mill. Small sales, local. Never had an issue in the past, but” —Trey glanced over at Rogue before turning his attention back to Oz— “two of the runners skimmed from the top. It’s been handled. It won’t be an issue in the future.”

Oz squinted and took a drag from his cigar. “Obviously, it is an issue if you’re bringing it to me.”

“The two runners who lifted the cash tried to pin it on the third.”

“Alright.” Oz seemed bored, which Rogue could understand. At this point, he would’ve been demanding Trey to hurry the fuck up.

“This runner, the third, who wasn’t involved, has worked for Kahill in the past. He wants to pay off the debt.”

“What’s the debt?”

Fuck! Rogue tightened his hold over his glass. He looked over at Trey, knowing he’d stay as close to the truth as possible.

“Dillon reimbursed us for the missing cash. Ten grand. But” —Trey cleared his throat, stalling— “we’d put out a twenty-five grand bounty on the third. Kahill wants to pay the bounty in return for the runner. We’ve come to an agreement with the runner. They’ll pay off their debt directly to us. It’s a mutual agreement.”

Oz glanced over at Rogue. It was a challenge. Game fucking on, brother.

“Yeah, and as I pointed out, Kahill ain’t happy. Thinking he’s probably gonna make a call to you. We expect you to tell him to fuck off.” Rogue grinned.

“And what exactly is this runner doing for you?”

“Still working out the details,” Trey said before Rogue could interject.

“Why not take just take the money?” Oz sipped his drink and tapped the ashes from the cigar in the tray to his left. “This runner ? Doesn’t sound worth driving a wedge between us and Kahill. Am I missing something?”

Conversations with Oz had always been like playing chess. And he was always one step ahead.

Trey clasped his hands. “Kahill wants something that now belongs to the Underground. Nothing to miss, Oz.”

“Fair enough.” Oz smirked.

Thank fuck! Rogue was well aware he had Trey to thank for it going so smoothly. Rogue stood at the same time as Trey and dropped his glass to the table. This was as good as done.

“One more question.” Oz paused, eyeing him and Trey. “Is there a reason why we keep referring to Quinn O’Malley as the runner ?”

Fuck! He should’ve known better than to think Oz wouldn’t remember all the details from their first meeting. Rogue’s gaze shifted to Nash, who didn’t even flinch from Rogue’s scathing glare. If Oz had forgotten, clearly, he had Nash to remind him. Motherfucker!

“Didn’t think to bother you with details on a low-key runner.” It was a good effort on a save from Trey, but as Rogue watched his brother, Trey hadn’t pulled it off.

“So, this Quinn? She’s just a runner who has unknown talents that we are willing to take a risk on and create friction with future deals for? Am I understanding correctly?”

Rogue drew in a breath and walked around the table, stopping in front of Oz.

“That’s fucking correct, Oz. So do us the courtesy of telling Kahill to fuck off when he calls. Loyalty runs both ways, brother . We don’t question your shit. Don’t fucking question ours,” Rogue snapped.

The corner of Oz’s mouth curled. He knew that look.

Fuck!

Rogue walked out without another word. He’d already said too much.