Red Collar (3 page)

At 22, the elevator halted with that familiar ding as it swished its doors open. Kate hesitated briefly before she alighted from it. She walked slowly to the only door across it. Gathering her courage, she pressed onto the doorbell camera.

“Who is it?” someone answered. His voice was heavy, almost baritone and commanding.

“It’s Kate Ripley,” she said, into it.

“Who?”

“Kate Ripley,” she repeated, a little more loudly. “I… er…was hired by Bob Whitton…yesterday. He…um… told me to be here at ten…tonight. To see Mr Reid?”

The man, on the other side of the camera, grew quiet. His silence began to cloud a doubt into Kate and she instinctively reached for her bag to recheck the address. But the door clicked open instead.

She noticed the contrast of the dark, ill-lit interior to the bright hallway in which she stood. She inhaled a deep breath and proceeded into the room.

There were a few wall lamps lit and yet despite the darkness, she could tell the apartment was richly and elegantly furnished. Probably, by an expensive and popular interior designer, she surmised in her mind. She tried to recall any names she was familiar with. But she could only remember one- Clodagh, the Irish designer who worked on projects such as the Tufenkian Heritage Hotels in Armenia. No, she would not have known her either. This acquired trivia was thanks to Bridget, who was particularly fond of the designer’s talent to meld feng shui into her masterpieces.

“So, you’re Kate Ripley,” said the man, interrupting her thoughts.

He was standing by the dark windows, overlooking the Hudson River. The distant lights of the city managed to outline his figure as he stood watching her, his hands in his pockets.

“I am,” Kate answered as confidently as she could.

“You know why you’re here?”

“I do.”

“You accept the terms of your contract, then? I’m not going to go through them again, Ms. Ripley. But if there are any doubts as to why you are here in my apartment at ten in the night, I suggest you leave and get them sorted first with Bob Whitton tomorrow. I have never forced myself on a woman and I do not intend to start tonight.”

Kate gulped.

“If you’re shaking your head, must I remind you that it’s dark and I can’t see you? So do you understand Ms Ripley, why is it that you’re here?” he continued.

“I understand,” she said, quietly.

But she knew he had heard her because he then added. “Take off your clothes.”

Kate paled, her eyes widening in panic. She searched the darkness to see him but she saw nothing but his dark outline. Reminding herself of how much this job could change her life, she reached for her back zipper. Her hand shivered as she tried to pull the zipper down. She slid the shoulder strap off. She felt the dress loosen about her and let it fall to her ankles. Her eyes welled with tears. She tried to hold them back but one escaped, rolling down her cheek.

In the darkness, Clayton Reid watched her. The wall lights were enough to lighten the outline of her face but it was her eyes that captivated him in a way he had never known. And when that tear escaped, cascading down her cheek, he tensed.

She heard him move closer until she could smell his cologne. She closed her eyes, hoping that this was all just a bad dream. But she felt him move behind her and when he placed his hands on her shoulders, she stiffened.

“You’re not comfortable, Ms Ripley,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear. “You’re having second thoughts about this?”

“I… no,” her voice quivered.

But when he ran his hands down her sides slowly, her body instinctively pulled away.

“You’re repulsed, Ms Ripley,” he stated, firmly. “Why?”

“No, I...,” she started.

“What have you heard? What do you know about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you sure?” he said in a low growl.

He stepped back and ambled towards the window, his hands in his pockets. “Put your clothes back on.”

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “What?” she asked, unsurely.

“You’re fired, Ms Ripley,” he put simply.

Stunned, she stared at him in disbelief, unaware that she was walking towards him. His words sunk into her soul as she began to realize what the loss of such an exuberant income would do to her life.

She had planned her life, assessed and reassessed it all of last night. Three years was all she needed to make a turn around and then she would find a respectable job, in a respectable business . An occupation that would not require her to perform illicit services.

Needless to say, Clayton Reid left a remarkably poor impression on her. She imagined her new employer to be a disgusting, immoral womanizer steeped in debauchery and lewdness. She was certain he had no respect for women. Why else would he advertise for such a contemptuous position in hush social circles?

She had taken a deep breath as she thought of herself being caressed in his arms or held under him as he would press himself against her, moving into her… She had shivered at the mere thought, a taste of nausea regurgitating in her throat.

She would never kiss him, she had declared to herself. She would never drop her self-respect to such lowly levels. He could have her as he pleased but she would never let him kiss her. Kissing was all about touching hearts and binding souls and there was no way in which she could give her heart away to such a despicable man.

But now her head spun from the words he had uttered.
You’re fired
, she repeated to herself. She couldn’t afford that. The torturous hours she had spent each day over the last few years, calculating her bills, trying to keep up with her mother’s medication and now the responsibility of her siblings ran through her like a storm.

“Fired?” she said aloud. “Why? What have I done wrong?”

“You’re clearly repulsed by me, Ms. Ripley,” he said. “Why drag this on any more than it should? Unlike you, I wish to retain my self-dignity.”

Her eyes suddenly raged; anger coursed through her veins. “Self-dignity? Oh, that’s right now. Because I decided to stoop to your level and accept this abominable contract,
I
have, of course, lost my right to any self-respect and dignity. But you, Mr. Reid, to even make such an offer in the first place, do not only repulse me! You’ve, in fact, undermined my opinion of you, sir. You’re revolting!”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Get out,” he growled.

“No, I won’t,” she seethed.  “I took off my dress, didn’t I? I was all prepared to bare my dignity to a man as vile as you. But that’s my personal opinion. How does that render any violation to the contract?”

“Get out,” he growled again.

“If I do,” she warned. “So will this contract. I’ll take this to the media. I’m sure they would be keenly interested to hear what the CEO of Reid Enterprises…”

She didn’t finish.

He had marched over to her in two angry strides and grabbed her by her elbows. He was surprised by how frail she felt. Quite unlike the temper she carried.

Her threat had riled him to his core. No one had done that to him in a long time. He had meant to shake her roughly. But now even as he stood holding her, he felt an awakening stir inside of him.

She writhed in his hands, struggling to free herself.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

He smiled. “But I did. Not so long ago. And you wouldn’t leave. So no.” He pulled her against his chest. Her lacy brassiere rubbed against the nakedness of his chest in the unbuttoned opening of his shirt. An arm held her tightly at her waist; the other braced the nape of her neck.

She thrashed violently against him, beating his chest wildly with her fist. 

They moved in unison across the floor as he pulled her ever more closely to him. And there in the dim lights of the wall lamps, his hand brushed over her hair chignon, loosening a bobby pin. She shook her head vigorously to release his hand from her head but instead it only unwound her chignon. Her hair came loose, falling to her waist.

Clayton stilled, mesmerized. His tight hold on her waist, turned into a soft caress, his fingers moving gently on her bare skin. He hardened against her as he breathed in her perfume, his eyes peering into hers.

He leant forward to kiss her but she lurched back from him. Surprised, he released her. She staggered a little, trying to steady her wavering legs.

“You’re treading on dangerous grounds, Ms Ripley,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t like being teased.”

She flushed. “You fired me, remember? You can’t blame me.”

He nodded, thinking.

They stood in the dark, silently watching each other until he spoke again. “Very well. You’re re-hired, then. As my mistress.”

Her spine stiffened as a shiver ran up it. “What?” unsure if she had heard correctly. “You can’t do that. I contracted to be your secretary.”

“Yes. And a position from which I fired you from a few minutes ago.”

“But you hired me again,” she insisted.

“Yes, as my mistress,” he clarified.

“I never agreed to that.”

“Well, that’s all that’s available at the moment. Take it or leave it.”

Kate puffed. “You are the most despicable man I’ve ever met!”

Clayton grinned. “So, I take it that you’re accepting?”

Kate lowered her head, her hands across her chest as she picked at the carpet with her toes, thinking. “Yes,” she mumbled, at last.

He stooped so he could meet her at eye level. “Yes? Let me remind you Ms. Ripley, a verbal contract is just as binding as a written one.” He was though aware that it was unlikely to ever stand in court due to the immorality of their association. A knowledge he was determined to retain to himself, should she decide to accept.

She glared at him. “I know.” She bit her lips. “So, when do you want me to start? Now?”

“No,” he replied. “You are safe today, Ms Ripley. Tomorrow, I have a dinner scheduled with the executives of Alastair Group. I expect you to escort me. So make sure that you have a proper dress and cool that fiery temper of yours.”

She started to protest but he interrupted her again.

“And whatever opinion and prejudice you have against me, I anticipate that you will have them put aside. Because I warn you, Ms. Ripley, should you embarrass me, I will make certain that you pay for it. Have I made myself clear?”

She scoffed. “You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?”

“Is that your way of saying “yes”?” he asked, sternly.

She fidgeted with her toes again. “Yes,” she muttered solemnly.

“Very well. Why don’t we seal the deal, then?” He reached for her waist and pulled her roughly to him, crushing his lips against hers.

Her eyes widened in shock, her hands pushing against his shoulders in protest. But he held her tightly, his other hand firmly against the back of her head, her lips locked onto his. Her knees buckled from the stirrings he forced inside of her. When he finally let her go, she gasped for air.

“How dare you?” she shouted, anger overpowering any rationality she had.

She raised her hand to strike him but he caught it and pulled her back to him.

She writhed in his grasp as he spoke softly against her lips, his breath raspy against her face.

“I dare every bit,” he said. “You’re mine now. Only mine. And if you’re going to keep protesting about it like that, I will
have to remind you again who it is that you belong to.”

She tensed, stilling momentarily.

He let her go gently.

“Put your clothes on,” he said. “And meet me here tomorrow
, at seven. That’s all for now Ms Ripley. You can go.”

He walked over to turn the lights on.

“Please don’t do that,” she blurted out.

He turned.

“Please don’t do that,” she said, slowly. “I haven’t… put my clothes on.”

He stalled, watching her in the dim lights of the wall lamps. “You know the way out, Ms Ripley,” he said, gruffly. He lowered his head, put his hands in his pocket and ambled into the inner labyrinth of his penthouse apartment.

Kate touched her lips. They still stung from his kiss. In the ill-lit room, she grabbed at her clothes and began dressing herself quickly. For a brief moment, she regretted not having him turn on the lights. She still didn’t know who she had kissed.

Her family was asleep when she arrived home. It was late; it was already past midnight. She couldn’t believe that the altercation she had had with Clayton Reid had lasted as long as this.

She grabbed her towel and made her way to the shower. As she stood under the spray of water, her mind inevitably ran over every detail of their encounter. She blushed when she remembered the touch of his fingers against her naked waistline. She put her fingers to where his once lay. Her skin prickled. Despite her resistance, she was strangely attracted to this man, although she had yet to recognize him by his face. His imprint, however, was forever engraved on her body.

She shook her head and tried to return to the facts of her situation. She was no longer a bona fide secretary but a mistress to a wealthy man. It was a colossal leap for a plain Jane such as herself, who had always preferred to live unnoticed rather than attract any sort of attraction, even during her workplace Christmas parties. The only kind of parties she did attend.