There are rails of clothes covering every inch of space alongside boxes of assorted footwear stacked taller than myself.
Packages fromVictoria’s Secret, not to mention bags, belts, hats, and a host of winter wear, despite the season, occupy the farthest corner.
And directly to my left, there’s a desk with an unopened MacBook, a new iPhone, and a plethora of things I’d never dream of needing. A handwritten note is stuck to the desk.
Stacey, my personal shopper at Bergdorf’s, picked out some items for you upon my request.
The sizing may be off, though I doubt it. I have a knack for these things.
I crumple the note in my fist even as I glance around the space, alternately grateful for his gesture and stunned at his audacity.
“The sizing may be off.” I repeat his words in a huff as I march straight for theVictoria’s Secretpackages. Pulling out a cream balconette bra, I immediately check the size, my jaw ticking in frustration when I find he’s guessed right.
“He’s an even bigger prick than I thought.”
CHAPTER7
WREN
Having woken up to a continental breakfast and no prick in sight, I devour the lot and wade through the mountain of clothes in the studio to find simple black cargo pants and a top.
I try Mom’s cell once again, surprised when it rings once before cutting to her voicemail. Once I’ve given it a minute, I dial once more, and this time, it goes straight to voicemail.
In my frustration, I send her a text on the off chance that it’ll get read.
ME
I need you, Mom. Where are you?
I blow out a breath, glancing around the apartment to findnothingto keep my mind occupied and decide impulsively to check out my temporary home.
The rules state I’m not allowed downstairs between 6 p.m. and 6 a.m., which I take to mean I can explore outside of those hours.
I make short work of tossing everything I need into my crossbody bag, and just as I’m about to press the call button for the elevator, the doors open.
“Morning, Miss Caputo.”
The cowboy tips his black hat that should look ridiculously out of place here, butsomehowit suits him. “I need to go through some security details with you, if you don’t mind.”
He steps to one side, indicating that I should step on with him. “Umm…okay.” Then I do as he bids before he presses the button to bring us down, the car easing to a halt before the doors open.
“This way.”
He leads me through several long corridors, taking two lefts, a right, another left and two rights before he finally places his hand on a scanner of sorts in the middle of a hallway.
A secret door reveals itself at the farthest end of the space, and he leads me into a room filled with computers, screens, and an array of devices I’ve never seen in my life.
“Take a seat. This won’t take long.”
Once I’m settled, he produces some sort of scanner and deposits it on the desk to my right. “Place your right hand on the machine, please, Miss Caputo. Keep your palm flush with the scanner.” He nods while I do as he’s instructed. “Yes, that’s perfect. Now, don’t move.”
The machine scans my palm for what feels like a long time before the light beneath my hand fades, and Ford stands, retrieving the scanner to connect it to the monitor before him.
As he types, he speaks over his shoulder. “I’m adding your handprint to the security database that allows access to certain parts of Rogue that are not open to the general public. Like the living quarters, and…”
He trails off, glancing sideways at me before finishing his sentence. “And other places that you won’t have access to. If you come across a biometric scanner that doesn’t allow you to gain access, then that place is purposefully out of bounds, as per the wishes of your host and my boss. You get me?”
I pop a brow that matches my cheeky grin. “Would these restrictedplaceshave anything to do with the rumors about the sex club here?”