by Emma Roberts
He'd probably arrange a suitably painful punishment, which was just fine with me at this point. My red pinafore and crisp white shirt reminded me forcibly of all of the years I'd spent in boarding school, but without the thrill of getting in trouble.
My phone rang, and a cursory glance at the switchboard and the label beside the blinking red light told me that it was Jace calling from inside his office. I picked up the phone and spoke in a bright, chipper tone, as if I didn't know who was calling.
"Hello. You've reached the offices of McCarthy Manufacturing Incorporated; my name is Whitney. How can I help you today?"
Jace's throaty chuckle on the other end of the line made my skin prickle and something deep inside of me clench with desire. "Did you practice sounding insincere, or is that your natural state of being outside of the bedroom?"
I stuck out my tongue at the receiver before answering. "Well, there's this really sexy and irritating man who insisted I get a job that requires me to do a lot of ass-kissing all day."
"Well, if you don't like it, there's always Burger King," he said with another chuckle. "But I called to ask who's next on my schedule. I can't recall who I'm supposed to be speaking with, and I need to prepare."
I squinted at my computer screen, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I clacked away at the keys. Jace's personal schedule was color-coded based on what sort of meeting he was going to be in and if he was friendly with the person. This hour's block was a soothing blue, which meant that the person coming to see him was a friendly acquaintance.
"D. M. Farbridge," I muttered. My eyes flew open wide. "You're talking to my father?"
My eyes wheeled for the nearest exit. I needed to get out of here if my father was going to be putting in an appearance. The last time I'd seen him, I'd been getting my ass chewed by mother. Today was a Thursday, and he'd no doubt invite me to have lunch with Mom at The Oval Lounge. And if Jace was in earshot, he'd probably make me go, too.
"Is that a problem, baby girl?" he purred. As always, his use of the nickname made my insides melt a little. I wasn't sure how two words could make me feel so valued, especially since they were usually a moniker for children. But still, I loved hearing them. I set my feet back on the floor rather than making a dash for the elevator.
Time trickled forward slowly, like the drip of coffee in the percolator nearby. Every tick of the minute hand toward three o'clock made my anxiety ratchet higher, and only the thought that I'd be going home with Jace kept me from dreading this meeting.
I'd done my level best to avoid my family, going so far as to move into the townhouse in Rochester after the fiasco at Christmas. I hadn't taken any of my mother's calls, and eventually, she'd stopped trying. I was probably going to pay for that too as soon as my father arrived.
I retrieved another cup of coffee from the table situated against one wall of the office. I'd just emptied a liberal amount of hazelnut creamer into my styrofoam cup when the elevator doors dinged open and my father stepped out into the reception area. The wide windows and chrome made light dance around the huge ivory room. It made my father's hair look more salt than pepper and glinted off of his spectacles. His eyes went wide behind them when he spotted me.
"Whitney? What are you doing here?"
I forced a smile. "My job. Are you here to see Mr. McCarthy?"
My father's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How on earth did you get this job? And why didn't you tell anyone? If you wanted a nothing job, I could have found a redundant position at my company, Whitney. I don't want you embarrassing yourself."
My stomach tried to take a dive toward my toes, and the taste of bile filled my mouth. My face burned with humiliation as angry tears pricked my eyes. "I went to school, Dad. I completed a business degree. I'm more than qualified-"
"Half a business degree," he corrected me sternly. "And even then, you were only maintaining a B average."
"All I require is an associate's degree." Jace's voice rumbled from nearby, nearly making me jump. "And my staff and I determined that she had enough credit hours for it to be considered the equivalent to earning an Associate's in Business Management."
A cursory glance to my left revealed Jace lounging in the doorway to his office. His body language was casual, but the hard flatness of his eyes revealed just how angry he was. I was forcibly reminded of one of our first discussions.
"You're worthy if I say you're worthy. Don't question my judgement again."
Apparently, he didn't like anyone else questioning his judgement either. My father cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles.
"I wasn't aware you'd hired my daughter."
"I don't think I generally need to inform my subcontractors when I switch out personal assistants," Jace countered.
My father had the good grace to blush. "Erm, right. Shall we talk, then? And maybe you and Whitney could join my wife and I for supper at the Oval Lounge tonight."
Fucking called it. To my surprise, Jace shook his head. "I'm afraid Whitney won't be available tonight. I'm working a late shift, and I find her help invaluable."
I could have kissed him. A warm wash of pride swept through me, and it was a completely alien and totally welcome feeling. Never before had I felt like I deserved anyone's respect. I typically demanded it because people never gave it to me willingly. They just saw a spoiled girl with great tits and ass and wrote me off. Even my father.
It felt fantastic to finally be seen by someone.
Jace eyed the coffee cup in my hand. This was my second and last. Jace had made it clear to me that he didn't want me to develop a tolerance for any substance, even caffeine.
"Last one of the day, right, Miss Farbridge? I don't want you getting jittery."
The soft prompting made me smile. I nodded. "Yes, sir. Last one."
Basking in the glow of Jace's approval made it easier to ignore the fact that my father was sitting across from my fuckbuddy talking shop. It finally felt like I was getting one over on the old bastard.
When they finally emerged from their meeting, my father gave me a curious glance. Jace's anger had apparently abated because his eyes were softer and less accusing. He shook my father's hand once.
"As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Farbridge."
Jace rounded the desk on the pretense that he was going to check his calendar on my computer. The feel of his long body at my back made me clench with desire again, and the thought of him taking me here was more than a little enticing. His hand dipped out of sight and curled possessively around my waist when he was out of my father's view. Being braced against him made me feel instantly more secure.
"You can call me Daniel, you know. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. McCarthy, I think I need to speak with my daughter alone."
Jace glanced up sharply. "I don't think so, Mr. Farbridge."
The lines in my father's face grew even deeper when he frowned. "Why not?"
"Because you're going to take her aside and try to convince her to quietly resign from this post. Your daughter isn't an embarrassment to me, Daniel. And I won't let her be treated like one, either."
My heart beat so fast I thought it was going to burst right out of my chest. My insides felt like warm mush, and once again, I wanted to cry, but this time in gratitude.
My father's face flushed in anger, and his hands balled into fists at his side. For a moment, I wondered if he'd take a swing at Jace. I was pretty sure he'd never been on the receiving end of someone treating him like a misbehaving child. The fact that the attitude had been projected at him and not toward me was intoxicating.
"Fine," he snapped. I tried not to recoil when my father's gaze speared me with haughty disapproval. "I expect to see you at your brother's party on the fourteenth, Whitney. Keep what we talked about in mind."
The not-so-subtle reminder that I was completely at the mercy of Jace to maintain my lifestyle drained a little bit of my good cheer away, but it couldn't completely steal the joy I felt at my father finally
getting a taste of his own medicine.
I nodded tightly. "I remember, and I'll be there."
"Bring a date," he said offhandedly. "If you can find someone presentable."
Only Jace's hand on my waist kept me from standing up and shouting at him. He leaned even farther over my shoulder and spoke in an undertone. "Calm, Whitney. Do you want to embarrass Daddy?"
I rubbed my thighs together as an uncomfortable spike of arousal shot through me.
"Of course not, sir," I whispered. I could feel him smile against my hair.
"Good."
He pushed away when the phone rang. After the intimate moment, the shrill sound actually made me jump. He let his hand linger on my skin a moment longer before he retreated, leaving me alone.
I buried my head in my hands for a precious second. This was going to be a long night.
Then I picked up the receiver and chirped, "Hello. You've reached the offices of McCarthy Manufacturing Incorporated; my name is Whitney. How can I help you today?"
I crept into Jace's office fifteen minutes before the building was due to close. He was still hard at work, his hair rumpled from all of the times he'd run his hands through it over the course of the day. The loss of his usual firm control made him impossibly more appealing.
I rapped my knuckles gently against the open door. He glanced up at me, and for once, his eyes were unguarded or devoid of any intentions toward me. It was a little disconcerting after all of the intense power play between us to see him as what he was, at least some of the time.
At the center of it all, he was a man who got tired, just like everyone else.
"May I come in, sir?"
Approval flickered in the depths of his pale eyes for an instant before he nodded.
"I hope you don't get offended when I say this, sir, but you look exhausted."
Jace stretched once and bit back a yawn. "I'll manage somehow."
I hesitated. How far would he let me go? Could I put my hands on him in a manner outside of the terms we'd outlined? Or would he sling me over his knee again? Or take me home and chain me in his playroom until I begged for forgiveness for my presumption? I had to admit, any of those sounded good at this point. After what he'd done for me this afternoon, I owed him whatever it was he wanted from me.
"You should clock out and head home," he said, returning his gaze to the computer. "I'll call Devlin and have him pull the car around for you."
"I don't want to go, sir," I whispered. "I was wondering if you'd let me sit on your lap."
Jace glanced up sharply, and his eyes studied me with a scorching intensity for a moment. I was sure he was about to say no and order me downstairs.
Then, some of the tension eased out of his shoulders, and he nodded. "Okay, baby girl."
He pushed away from the desk just enough that I could slide onto his broad, firm lap. His arms went around me at once, and I curled into his chest automatically.
"Thank you, sir," I breathed. "For earlier. I thought you'd make me go."
Jace kissed my hair. "You're not ready yet. Family is a soft limit for you. I'll push it eventually, but not at the moment. And besides, he was being an ass. I wasn't rewarding behavior like that. You're mine, and I'm not going to send you places lightly."
"I think I may love you," I sighed. "Just a little."
He stiffened beneath my touch and pushed me gently away. The rejection stung me worse than if he'd slapped me across the face. I dared to peek at his expression and found it bleak and far-away. There wasn't even the flicker of the warm, playful man I'd caught glimpses of up to this point. I hadn't expected him to say it back. But even just a small smile or an acknowledgment would have gone a long way to keep me from feeling like a sucking black hole of neediness.
I straightened, opening my mouth to try and take it back. Then I closed it again. Anything I said next would be a lie, and Jace didn't abide liars.
"Maybe I should take that car," I whispered.
Then I hurried out of the office like the hounds of hell were after me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have left before my big, stupid mouth could ruin the one good thing to has happened to me in ages.
Jace called after me, but I was already halfway down the hall. I jammed the elevator button and waited. When it didn't ding open after a few seconds, I abandoned it and crashed through the doors to the stairs instead. It was almost impossible to navigate the damn things in heels, but the mortification running through me made the superhuman feat possible.
Devlin didn't look up at me when I flung myself into the car a few minutes later.
"Where to, little lady?" he asked breezily, slinging his arm over the seat to peer back at me. He was handsome, with a mop of red hair and a chiseled jaw. Before Jace, I might have flirted with him.
I didn't even pause to consider it. I had to get away. I had to run from the huge error in judgment I'd just made. I needed to get to my bolthole.
"Club Tanière," I ordered. "And step on it."
9
Jace
Fuck me running. How the hell had this happened?
By the time I skidded to a stop in the lobby on the ground floor of the building, the Mercedes was already speeding into the night. I growled a vicious curse at no one in particular and dialed Devlin, hoping for once that he hadn't followed my instructions.
The call went straight to voicemail, as I'd expected. After April's accident, I'd made sure that every single one of my staff was sure their phones were not operational when the car was in motion. Texting and driving was the leading cause of crashes, followed closely by distracted or sleepy driving. No one drove for me that hadn't gotten eight hours of sleep and put their phone through the agreed-upon process.
I'd just have to track the chip installed into the car then. I hung up the phone without leaving a voicemail and dialed the security chief for my company.
"Cline," he grunted into the phone. "What do you want?"
On another day, the fact that Cline gave no shits that I was his boss might have amused me. But today, I needed him to give a damn.
"The '17 AMG GT S. Where is it on route to?"
Cline blew out a breath on the other side of the phone, and the keyboard clacked audibly as he entered the information into his system.
“It’s currently booking it down the Central Loop toward the Genesee River,” Cline said. “Did someone steal it?”
“What’s down that way?”
“Well, if they’re headed downtown, it could be anything. Restaurants, businesses, clubs. Take your pick.”
The last word tickled my senses, and I had a bad feeling I knew exactly where my wayward sub was going to retreat to. I’d scared her, and now, she was about to break all of the rules by indulging her bad habits.
“What’s the most popular club at the moment?”
“Club Tanière, probably.”
I didn’t need any further prompting. I hung up the phone and shoved into my jacket pocket. Damn it. Damn her. Why had she said that?
It had taken April years to say ‘I love you.’ Wresting affection from her had been like pulling teeth. Hearing it fall from Whitney’s soft, petal lips so soon had been unexpected and a little frightening.
Anger bubbled through my veins. I thought that I'd begun to teach her. We'd had nearly a week together now, and she'd seemed to be doing well in and out of the playroom. She’d responded well, and I'd been a little surprised by her pain tolerance. With most of my subs, I'd had to work my way up to a cane. As in all things, Whitney wanted whatever I could give her, and I hadn't been about to disappoint.
I didn't have time to wait for a driver to pull around. I retrieved the keys to the black Porsche from the valet and sprinted into the lot, only pausing for long enough to remote start the vehicle. By the time I reached it, the car was unlocked, primed, and ready to go. I threw it into reverse after checking to see that the coast was clear.
It took an infuriatingly long time to merge onto the
central loop and even longer to determine where I was going. I'd never been one to indulge in the nightlife, so all of the clubs looked much the same to me. I really was beginning to feel like a fussy father.
As February approached, I found it harder and harder to keep my promise to Whitney and keep April off of my mind. If she'd had a driver, the car that had slammed into the Mustang would have killed him instead of her. If I'd been with her, we would have gone to celebrate elsewhere, and she would not have been on the road and in the right place to be hit. If she were alive, I'd have a two and a half-year-old son. If, if, if. There were so many things I should have done differently.
I wasn't going to make the same mistakes with Whitney. I'd keep her under lock and key in the house if I had to. I wasn't going to let anything or anyone hurt her.
Well, I'd be doing it tonight. She was breaking the rules in a big way, and there was no chance at all that she'd escape punishment for that.
I hooked a Bluetooth over one ear and dialed Cline again, demanding instructions to the club. He gave them to me and kept up a running commentary about the Mercedes' progress down the loop, informing me when it came to a stop exactly where I'd expected it to.
Club Tanière was a white, three-story building that had once held a movie theater. The intricate molding on its front and sides and the big marquee out front were the last hints of what it used to be. The latter held the club's name in big, pulsing, purple letters. Multicolored lights shone out of the upstairs windows, and I could just make out the shapes of gyrating bodies inside.
I joined the line that was bustling toward the door, drawing several appreciative looks from the bachelorette party just ahead of him.
"You single, mister?" a short redhead simpered. "Because I'm free too if you're looking for a good time."
"My girlfriend is inside," I said automatically. As soon as the words left my mouth, I stopped, horrified. Good God, when had I started thinking of her in those terms? I'd tried to make it very clear to her--and to myself--that this was a temporary arrangement. I was offering her sex and salvation from her problems, not the love of a lifetime.
