Boss: Complete Box Set: A Mob BDSM Romance (12 page)

I
can barely see
through the rain and my tears.

The sky let loose moments after I jumped into my car and sped away from Brent’s house. I can’t get the image of those two words out of my head.
My Liz.
He lied to me. He flat out lied.
After
I trusted him enough to let him play a violent scene with me.
After
I allowed myself to secretly love every second of fear and discomfort and ecstasy that scene gave me.

He fucking lied.

Never had an employee as a submissive, my ass! He told me Liz had been the head of marketing when he launched the casino. Considering the casino’s remarkable success, she must have worked pretty closely with Brent to pull it off—while he pulled off her clothes and put her in a pretty collar.

God, I’m so fucking pissed, I don’t even know where I’m going. Home, probably.

No, no. Not home. He’ll just find me there. Knowing Brent, he’ll be at my door before I can manage to turn the lock. He’s too arrogant to let me slip out on him like this.

And he’s too much of a dick to tell the truth.

I bypass the route I’d normally take to my apartment. Rubbing my forehead with one hand, I turn in a different direction and stop trying to control my thoughts. I have to let them run their course or the pressure inside my head will just get worse.

I need to cry, but I won’t, because once I let loose, I’ll crumble.

How many other employees have there been? How damn many women’s skirts has he ripped off before bending them over his desk? This is probably a pattern with him. Hadn’t Donetta said he rewarded exceptional talent?

The sick feeling in my gut gets worse when I think of Donetta. She’s probably part of his office harem, too. No wonder she gets away with talking back to him, drags apologies from his reluctant lips, and puts candy bars in his desk. She knows how to work Brent.

And he’s rewarded her by moving her up the ranks. Like he’s doing with me.

The bitter sting of tears worsens. I know the life of a true submissive, what it means to completely hand over my power to a man in exchange for pain and pleasure. The need to submit has always been a secret inside of me that few people know about. It’s hard to believe that he finds so many ready women willing to live that role.

If you’re not submissive by nature—if the promise of pain and pleasure doesn’t turn you on—it’s not something easily faked. It would be difficult for any woman not into Brent’s kind of play to endure it for long.

So does he have a radar for finding women who love it? Maybe Donetta does. She does most of the hiring, after all. Could she be hand-selecting women for Brent’s use?

“Stop it!” I say out loud, hitting the steering wheel with my palm. I’m taking this way too far right now. Or am I? Anger and hurt are running with my basic fears and stretching them into flat-out nightmares.

I press the gas pedal, going faster than I should through the empty city streets. A red light flashes up ahead and I blow through it. My entire relationship with Brent to this point has felt out of control, as if I’ve been heading for this very moment of recklessness. I could walk away unscathed, or I could crash and burn. All I know is that I need to go faster, to press my luck and gamble with fates. Adrenaline pumps through me, taking away the edge of pain I felt as a result of Brent’s lies.

Another light ahead fades from yellow to red. I take my foot off the gas but don’t brake. A Camry cuts through the intersection mere seconds before I blow the light. Heart racing, a burst of elation goes through me, but it fades fast. I’ve been riding the highs and lows since the moment I met Brent, and I’m going to get myself killed if I don’t cool it.

How did I let my life get this messed up? Again?

Wiping at my eyes, I take a sharp left and head to Van Dyke. The roads are narrow and lead away from the city with gentle turns amid a frame of billowing trees. The rain slows to a trickle, my headlights cutting through the wet air in brilliant stripes ahead of me. I focus on the lights, my mind quieter now. I need to talk to someone about Brent and about how easily I let him lead me on.

Only one person could ever understand how Brent captured me so completely.

Pulling into a circular gravel drive, I get out in the foggy mist and clutch the cool, wrought iron bars of the arching gate at Mt. Olivet cemetery. A chain lock holds the gates together, but it won’t stop me. This isn’t the first time I’ve come to talk to her after the cemetery was closed for the night.

Kicking off my heels, I walk the length of the fence until I find the right spot. The entire fence is made of twisted black iron bars topped with peaked spears, and interwoven with horizontal bars. I climb until I’m at the top. There’s just enough space between the tops of the bars for me to slip through without impaling myself—sort of.

I have to wiggle gingerly until I slip between them and carefully swing my leg over so I can climb down the other side. My skirt catches on one of the points. I jerk, trying to pull it free but it only snags harder. Gripping one bar in each hand, just below the spears, I try to get enough leverage to free myself, but each movement brings me closer to piercing my thighs on the sharp tips. Deciding to just go with it, I manage to go up and over. A loud ripping sound rents the air as my skirt tears on the spear.

Cold air assaults my mostly bare ass as I start the descent on the other side. I’ll get the skirt on my way out. Right now, I just need my sister.

Moving through the headstones and marble angel statues, it only takes me a few moments to find her grave in the dim moonlight. The ground is slick and mushy beneath my bare feet. I slide a bit when I reach her, falling to my knees and crawling until I touch the base of her headstone.

A bouquet of pink roses lies near the stone. I do a double take, thinking I’ve gone to the wrong plot. I’m the only one who leaves flowers here—there is no one else to care about Nathalie but me. It touches me that a random person might have seen that. Some kind-hearted stranger will be in my prayers tonight.

Carefully moving the bouquet aside, I lie on the wet ground and curl around the stone as if I’m protecting a precious child.

The turmoil inside me recedes, leaving behind a lump in my throat. For a long time, I simply breathe, drawing in chilly air in and letting it puff slowly out. Mist covers me like a tickly, wet blanket, slicking across my bare arms, hip and legs. If anyone saw me, they’d probably be scared out of their mind to find a crazy, half-naked woman lying with her arms around a headstone. I don’t have it in me to care, and no one will come here anyway, save for other lost souls. I want to say something to my sister, to let her know I’m here, but my mind becomes silent and aware, as if she already knows.

We never did have to say much to each other to know what was going on in the other’s heart.

“You’ll never believe it!”
I hear her voice in the deep recess of my mind, and a memory sparks to life.

Nathalie was glowing, dressed in some flimsy dress I had never seen before.

“I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love!” Nat twirled around, exposing everything under the short skirt of the dress. Laughing, I pull it down to cover her panties.

“How can you tell, Nat? You met him last week!”

“I can just tell. No one has ever looked at me like he does. And the sex—my GOD, you wouldn’t believe the sex! Do you like my outfit? He picked it out for me. Isn’t it awesome?”

She grabbed me, forcing me to twirl with her. I rolled my eyes and resisted at first, but it was a weak attempt. I wanted her to be happy, and I wanted to feel it, too.

Nat tossed her hair around like she was in a mosh pit, but the pure joy radiating off of her was infectious. We laughed, clasping hands and twirling, dancing like we were kids. God, Nat was so crazy! But so, so happy. If it took crazy to make her feel like this, then so be it.

“Oh, Nat!” I sob, pushing myself into a sitting position. She’d been so confident in what she was feeling that day. Love! She’d been so sure of it.

A chill goes through me as I trace the carving of her name in the marble. Hours ago, I would have been twirling, too, convinced that I was falling for Brent. This hold he has over me led me to feel things, and to believe they were something more than just lust. I’m a fool, just like Nathalie had been.

She was all I had. My only family. My only true friend. It dawned on me then, why I had let Brent in the way I had. I needed him to fill the void that had never closed after my sister’s death. His enigmatic, raw maleness offered me the thrill and the connection I craved to fill me up.

Like my sister, I’m drawn to powerful, cocky men. Seems I’m headed down the same yellow brick road she was. It’s all glitter and rainbows until the bricks start bleeding, and by then, it’s too late. Because these powerful, cocky men all offer the same thing: destruction. It isn’t Oz at the end, it’s Hell.

The sky opens up again, the torrent coming down harder this time. Reluctantly, I get to my feet, and kiss the top of Nat’s headstone. Hugging myself, I hurry back the way I came in. I climb up the fence, grab my ruined skirt from the top and maneuver down the other side in record time. Thunder crashes through the sky as I slip into my car and crank the heat.

Somehow, I make it home. I don’t remember the drive, or really even how I ended up in my bed, soaking wet, my eyes burning from tears I refuse to shed.

By morning, my eyes and face feel like a desert. I’m up hours too early for work, but I can’t go back to sleep. So I force myself to shower with damp green tea bags plastered to my eyes for the bruised hollows beneath them.

I think about Brent as I get dressed. He’s going to be pissed that I ran out on him last night. But he was the one who assured me there was a firm line between business and pleasure, so going into work today isn’t even an issue. Booting Brent from my personal life is. I’m going to carry on with my job despite him.

Right now, my work is about the only thing in which I can still take pride.

I catch sight of myself in my full-length mirror. Form-fitting business skirt, simple blouse with the top buttons undone. No panties, and my hair in a tight bun at the nape of my neck.

I’d dressed for him without even realizing it.

Fuck. Booting him from my life might not be so easy when I try to please him without even thinking about it. Maybe my vindictive brain is trying to show Brent what he’s lost. I lift my chin and grin. I may not be Liz, but I’m a hot package he’ll never get his hands on again. And he’s going to know it.

It’s petty, but I’m satisfied with that rationale as I drive to work, and ride the elevator up. I step into the breakroom to grab coffee when I hear Olive frantically call my name. I look over my shoulder to find her briskly trotting in on three-inch heels.

“Is your phone on?”

Oops. “Ah, no. What’s the matter?”

“Mr. Masters is the matter.” She lowers her voice and looks around as if someone might hear us. “He’s been on a rampage looking for you.”

I ignore the painful flip of my heart. I don’t care if he’s been looking for me. I’m
early
today, so fuck him. Officially, I’m not even on the clock yet. I stir creamer into my coffee, and Olive gives a desperate huff behind me.

I feel bad for putting this on her, but I’m not in the mood to deal with billionaire temper tantrums.

“He expects you in his office immediately. It’s like blood in the water. I’m sure he smelled you come in. You’d better go.
Now
.”

Slowly, I turn and eye her, surprised by the analogy. There’s no holding back the creep of discomfort that goes through me. I know Brent angry. But I don’t really
know
Brent angry.

“Thank you, Olive.” My voice is tight and she stands a little straighter. Feeling even guiltier for being a bitch to my assistant, I brush past her and go to my office. My hands are shaking as I set my things down. Fuck. I need to come up with some excuse for not going to his office. A meeting? Do I have one?

I look through my paper desk calendar, but nothing is written down for today. Before I can think of anything else, my door bursts open and slams against the wall. I spin so fast, my coffee goes flying, and scorching hot droplets pierce my skirt and burn my thigh.

“Well, well.” Brent comes in and slams the door shut equally hard. I can’t believe he’s making a scene , practically showing everyone within earshot that he and I have more than business between us.

He’s in a midnight suit with a dark silver button down beneath, and an all-black matte tie. His outfit suits the absolute storm on his face and the flash of lightning in his eyes. My chest rises and falls hard as apprehension courses through my veins.

Unsure what to do, I put my hands behind me on the desk and lean my butt against the edge. There’s a stapler at my fingertips, and a set of book ends. If I need to, I can throw one at his bloody head.

Brent gives me a hot appraisal, his jaw working back and forth as he slowly advances toward me.

“Imagine my surprise when I got out of the shower last night to find you gone, and another woman’s collar lying on my bed.”

I swallow hard.

“You weren’t at home and you didn’t answer any of my calls. Unacceptable.” He stops before me, washing me in his scent and warmth. My legs go weak as I’m quickly overwhelmed by a strong and insistent need for him. His suit outlines the perfection of his body and it takes all my will not to let my eyes wander.

He could set me up on my desk, yank my legs apart and drive into me in a matter of seconds. Pressing my thighs together, I draw on my anger to keep me focused.

I tip my head. “Imagine my surprise to see another woman’s name engraved into that collar.”

Brent’s nostrils flare, his hand coming out to grasp my neck. I gasp but hold my ground. I grow immediately wet, my arousal damp on my inner thighs. He squeezes gently but with intent. Fear prickles inside me, quickly turning into the ember of desire. Breathing hard, he runs a finger along the base of my throat as if imagining the collar on me.