Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,205

even be able to help me? I’m tempted to call his bluff. He probably can’t even deliver on his promise and what does he want with me anyway?

We never did address what he meant by that. Instead we went right into his absurd obsession with me calling him Roarke. He probably thinks that if I did agree to his stupid agreement that I’d be willing to sacrifice myself.

Me naked on his bed isn’t as despicable as I wish it was. It’s quite enticing if I’m honest. But I would never admit to it.

“Jesus, Han, get a grip,” I mumble to myself.

My inner angel pops onto my right shoulder. Roarke Baldwin is a bad, bad man.

My imaginary devil pops onto my left shoulder. And you’re a bad girl. How will he punish you?

“Shut up you fucking devil!” I yell.

The office door of RISE opens.

I stop all movement with the very real fear that I’ve conjured him up in real life. The villain always shows up when his prey is weak.

Am I weak? Maybe a little. After all, there’s a war going on between my head and my pussy and my wet panties suggests which one’s winning.

“Ms. Crowley, I’m sorry, usually you girls are gone by now.” Misty, the cleaning lady peeks her head inside my office.

Thank Goodness.

“I was just leaving.” I slip into my heels, shut down my computer and grab my bag. “Have a great night, Misty.” I smile.

“Be careful out there. The sun is going down.”

I glance out the window by Victoria’s desk, the sun has started to make its descent now. “I will thanks.”

“Darkness is when the devil comes out to play.” She empties Victoria’s trashcan into her big garbage bag.

“Sometimes the devil appears in daylight too. Dressed in a custom tailored suit and wingtips.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Man problems, Ms. Crowley?”

My hand lands on the doorknob to the office. “Not in the slightest. Goodnight.”

“Night, Miss.”

I leave the confines of my office, riding down the elevator alone and it isn’t until I step out onto the streets of Chicago that I realize my devil isn’t like a thief emerging from a dark alley. He sits perched up in his penthouse or corner office under the guise of one of the most successful men in Chicago. He’s the devil in the gray suit and if I don’t tread carefully, I’m likely to forget it.

Chapter Four

I tap my pen on the desk as I wait on the line for the Director of Hospitality to return to the phone. I appreciate that she’s in the office as early as I am and able to take my call, but she’s taken ten minutes already to check her calendar. I’m not asking for space three years down the line. The event is six weeks away.

“Ms. Crowley.” Her voice shakes when it sounds over the line.

Probably new.

“Yes.”

Tip. Tap. My pen bounces like a teeter-totter against my white desk.

“I’m sorry. I thought we had a cancellation, but the bride called this morning to say the wedding is still a go. Lover’s quarrel I guess.” Her voice sounds sweet now, like she’s happy they didn’t cancel.

Too bad I can’t say the same.

“Thank you. If anything changes can you put me down as the first call you make?” I ask, leaving my voice dripping with the sweetness of honey. “Please note I’ll pay fifty percent more.”

I’ve had hard lessons on what gets me what I want and honey and money are always more effective when used in tandem.

“That’s very nice of you, but our prices are our prices.”

We say goodbye and hang up and my gaze veers out the window. The feeling of impending doom over rescheduling the linens, the entertainment, the caterer –everything—seeps into my pores like cold rain on my skin. My office phone rings and since it’s after hours and I’m alone I answer.

“RISE Foundation.”

“Hannah?” The spunky voice of my childhood best friend, Gwen Turner, greets me.

“Gwen?”

“Who else?” she laughs. “Sorry for the early morning wake-up.”

“You called the office. It’s fine.”

“I did?” She pauses for a second. “Oh shit, I’m off my rocker. Sleep deprived and overfucked, drinking every night…lots of fun.”

A rustling sound comes over the line.

“What’s up? You sound distracted.”

She giggles again. “I am. Sorry, but my manager just mentioned booking me another date once I get stateside again. I told him I’m booked the weekend of September fifteenth, right?”

I let out a breath. If Gwen can’t speak, then there’s no reason to have the gala. She’s my biggest celebrity coming and