Page 21 of Rook

“I do maintenance and shit like that. I am strictly forbidden from being in here,” he told me, waving at the computer on the desk.

I was no tech person, but I was pretty sure that was an elaborate computer system for a little martial arts studio. And that recycling can full of empty energy drinks likely didn’t belong to Nyx.

“This is my office, right?” I asked.

“Right.”

“Well, I’ll leave this here then,” I said, dropping a material hair tie on the desk. “I should probably stick a few more things in here eventually too. Girls tend to bring home into their offices, don’t they?”

“That had a strangely longing tone to it,” Rook observed, better at reading me than I liked.

“Okay. Embarrassing confession, but I used to dream about having an office cubicle.”

“An office cubicle? A nine-to-five prison? Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed nice. Like a little home away from home. I used to watch videos of girls completely decorating the space. All pink keyboards and photo collages and rugs…”

I had to shut up.

I was getting too close to admitting why I dreamed of a home away from home, why being able to express myself that way was such a dream of mine.

“Well, you can decorate this if you want. Nyx doesn’t use this computer. She has a laptop for all the actual work shit. Actually, do it. I’ll send you some money or a gift card. Get whatever you want to personalize this.”

Something dangerously close to hope swelled.

“If I know Nancy, she’s going to ambush you here,” he said, only partially spoiling the little dream.

“Okay. I can do that.” I was already sizing up the space, trying to figure out what the dimensions of the room and desk were, how much stuff I could shove into a little office. Even if I wasn’t technically going to be working there.

“It’ll be good for you to spend some time here, setting it up. That will get you really familiar with how things work, so if Nancy asks any sneaky questions, you will have a ready answer.”

“Right,” I agreed, but I was barely paying attention. I was trying to decide on a color scheme.

“Lost you to office supplies, didn’t I?” Rook asked, shooting me a knowing smile. “I get like that when I start thinking about keyboards, switches, and keycaps. By the way, the hall storage has a box full of different keyboards if you don’t like this one for your décor. Ready to see my place?”

“Yep,” I agreed, casting one last glance around, excited to spend my evening looking at supplies.

We moved back through the studio, pausing out front for Rook to lock up, then walking to the side of the building. I watched Rook glance in the alley—likely checking for his nosy P.O.—before leading me down.

“One sec,” he said, pulling off his leather cut, folding and rolling it, then opening what I thought was a solid wooden planter from afar, but had a little storage compartment in the back. He shoved his cut inside, then closed it back up. “I can’t have it in my place,” he explained as he turned back. “And sometimes I don’t want to go all the way to the clubhouse to get my cut before walking across the street to hit up the bar.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed, watching him move toward the exposed staircase.

“Not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I love them.”

We made our way up and Rook unlocked the door as I looked down at Shady Valley, finding I really liked this vantage point.

“Okay. Keep your expectations low,” Rook warned before pushing open the door.

Really, there was no reason for the dramatic warning.

Clearly, the place had been updated recently. It had pristine lightwood floors and airy beige walls. I mean, sure, it was small. You walked immediately into a minuscule foyer with the full bath to one side. It featured a traditional shower/tub combo, a space-saving white sink cabinet with a storage medicine cabinet mirror, and a brown plaid linen shower curtain.

Not three feet in from the foyer was the L-shaped kitchen with white cabinets, white appliances, and a simple drip coffee machine. No lattes when I moved in with him then.

How spoiled I had become in one day.

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