by Chloe Cox
“I’ll figure it out,” he said.
If he had to, he’d go up there himself and break in. If it had the evidence that would put Jared and whatever punk he’d hired to stalk his sister away for good, it would be worth it.
“Don’t split the mission,” Kane said, quietly.
Conor stared back. There was something Kane wasn’t telling him. But he didn’t have time. He looked at the clock and stood up. As he did the thing he’d felt in his chest stirred inside him and disturbed his cool. He’d gotten used to it again — not feeling anything at all.
Maybe he did need to play with a nice, willing sub. But first, he needed to take Sierra to another event.
Too bad he couldn’t combine them.
Nine
Sierra was keeping herself freaking busy. She had to, after that day — and after that night.
Because she’d had a sex dream about Conor that was, no kidding, the best sex she’d never had.
Of freaking course she’d dreamed about him. He’d been in her living room, being all manly and keeping her safe. And when she’d finally broken down after the police left, Conor had just stepped in and held her, for what seemed like forever, and Sierra had been too tired to question it. And too scared. Because this creep had been right outside her door. And for a second it had felt like it would all overwhelm her. Like she’d been fighting it for too long, and now it was too big and she was too tired, and she was just about to collapse.
And then…Conor had been there. With his arms around her, and his heart beating strong and steady against her cheek. All the tension left her body as she cried in his arms, the solid strength of him steadying her, letting her believe it would all be ok. She’d actually fallen asleep right away for the first time in months.
And then there’d been the dream.
She remembered the dream better than she remembered yesterday. She’d done something wrong, something annoying, something designed to provoke him in front of a whole party full of people. Something to do with ice cream, in classic dream logic? That part was fuzzy. But then Conor had been behind her, close, tall, powerful, just like he’d been at the charity event, and it got crystal fucking clear.
That second of knowing he was looking down at her, deciding what he wanted to do with her? Of knowing discipline was coming. Of knowing he could and would do whatever he wanted.
His hand, threading its way into her hair. His other hand on her hip, large and heavy against her softness. A moment’s stillness, with everyone watching. Just waiting to see what her punishment would be.
And then his foot kicking her legs apart, the hand in her hair grabbing tight, the hand on her hip holding her steady. Rough and hard, he pushed her down, bending her over a railing as he yanked her dress up over her waist, and then that single moment where she knew it was coming and before he was there that lasted too long, too long, and then—
His cock driving into her, stretching her, overwhelming her until she cried out. Owning her, possessing her, taking her in front of a faceless crowd, just to show he could. Making her come screaming, her body no longer belonging to her, but to him…
Sierra woke up from a freaking dream orgasm. And then she’d had to masturbate again.
It made for a weird morning.
But not as weird as it got once Conor left. His replacement — because apparently now she needed twenty-four hour security, which was also not the best feeling — was this colossus of a man who barely spoke. Bobby the Statue, she called him. He was standing outside her door at the moment, guarding it. Bobby didn’t do anything wrong, but it turned out that having him around just reminded her, over and over again, that yes, someone was actually trying to kill her.
Sierra kept trying to tell herself she wasn’t scared. But she’d been unable to stop moving all day, just getting up and walking around, taking conference calls, messing around online. If she stopped for a second she would have to think about it. And she was wound up way too tight for that, with nowhere for the energy to go.
So when someone knocked on her freaking door in the middle of a call with her business partners, she jumped about ten feet in the air.
“What’s that?” Palmer said over the speaker. He headed up the group that was working with her to launch her cosmetics line, and he’d been the one to push for a bodyguard in the first place. He had a lot of money invested in Sierra. “Are you all right?”
“It’s fine,” Sierra said, feeling like she was lying. “There’s a guard outside my door, it’s probably just…”
She checked the clock. Maybe Conor was the tiniest bit early. Even just the thought sent a little thrill fizzing through her.
No. Such. Luck.
“Miss Fiore,” came a voice through the door. It was Bobby the Statue’s ridiculously deep voice. “Your brother wants to see you. Do you want to let him in?”
Jared. She wanted to groan. She was definitely not in the mood to deal with his bruised ego from the night before.
But she did kind of like the idea that he couldn’t just barge in anymore.
“We can finish details for the launch party later, Sierra,” Palmer said. “I’m glad you’ve beefed up your security. Keep us updated, please.”
“Of course, Palmer,” she said. “Thanks.”
She took a breath.
“Sure, Bobby,” she said, raising her voice.
The front door opened, and Bobby the Colossus walked in, revealing her brother standing behind him, looking like a little petulant storm cloud. Jared tried to push past, but Bobby was controlling the flow. And when Bobby finally did let Jared in, he followed him inside, closing the door behind them both, and then turning to face Sierra, eyes forward, arms crossed.
Apparently she’d have a bodyguard even with her brother.
Jared did not like it. He looked at Bobby, and then back at Sierra.
“Really?” he said.
“What’s up, Jared?” Sierra said. She did her best to smile. It was the easiest way to deal with him, especially when he was already mad. “Do you need something?”
He ignored her and walked right over to the couch, where he sat down. Sierra moved her laptop from the coffee table and settled herself in the armchair farthest from her brother. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong, but the way he was looking at her was making her uncomfortable.
It’s probably just your nerves.
“How’s the stalker?” Jared said, suddenly.
Sierra jerked her head up. Jared was watching her, his face almost expressionless. Except for the eyes. Those were bright.
She almost answered him. Unthinking. Automatic. But something inside screamed for her attention and told her to shut up. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the queasy feeling that was brewing in her gut. There was no way Jared could know about the latest stalker incident—unless someone had called and told him? But no one would do that. And anyway, it didn’t matter.
Jared didn’t seem worried. He seemed amused.
That’s a terrible thing to think.
Sierra shook her head as if she could clear her thoughts and start from scratch. Jared could be absolutely horrible, but he was all the family she had left, and she wouldn’t give up on him. Even after all this time, she’d never given up hope that one day Jared might change, just like their father had started to before he died.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Sierra said, finally. “I have a busy day today, though, so if there’s something you need, let’s get down to it? I know you probably have a lot going on too.”
Another smile, with that. It was all she could muster. Still didn’t work. Jared’s lips curled into a brief sneer, the way they always did when she mentioned work. He had never once taken her job seriously, and he never would. Which was just fine by Sierra. If he thought it mattered to her, he might try to take it from her.
“Sure you do,” he said, inspecting his manicure. “I just came by to tell you that I’m throwing us a twenty-sixth birthday party a
t the compound. You will attend.”
He punctuated that with a stare. There was no doubt—he was telling her she had to go. And Sierra knew exactly what that meant. It meant that Jared knew he needed her celebrity, such as it was, to make it a party. And he hated her for that, so he had to make it a power play.
Lord, he was exhausting sometimes.
“Well, I have my launch scheduled for—”
She was interrupted by another knock on the door. She flinched, until she saw the time — and saw who followed Bobby into the apartment.
Conor.
Oh good God.
The dream flashed…not before her eyes, but in her body, somehow? For a second she could feel it again, his hand in her hair, his cock inside her, the sensation overwhelming her. It was weird and inappropriate and totally disorienting, and it only stopped when he nailed her with those baby blues.
Why hadn’t she dreamed about this eyes? She was almost mad at herself for it, but she sensed it would have been too much for her. She might lose herself if he fucked her while looking into her eyes, even in a dream. She might forget none of this was real. And then she’d be in trouble.
And today he was even more attractive than she remembered. He was in another lightweight suit, this time a light gray that somehow made his ice blue eyes seem to glow under that just-scruffy-enough swatch of jet black hair. She watched him scan the room, take it all in. His nostrils flared slightly when his eyes rested on Jared, but he covered it, and then he was all about Sierra.
God. Those eyes on her again. They made her forget how to use words good.
“I’ll be relieving Bobby,” he said, even as Bobby was leaving. She heard the door open and close. Was kinda hard to pay attention to much but those freaking eyes. “Everything ok here?”
She knew what he meant. Apparently so did Jared.
“As I was saying,” Jared said, more loudly than was necessary, “I’m throwing us a birthday party, on our birthday, at the family compound, and you will be there. Just fix your schedule, Sierra. I’m thinking I might do a little ceremony or something, to mark the vestment.”
That sure as hell snapped Sierra back to reality. First, she already scheduled her launch party for her actual birthday, specifically to avoid this exact scenario. And second…seriously?
“You want to have a ceremony to mark when our inheritance vests?” she said. She was at another loss for words. “Like…a coronation?”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Nothing that tacky, obviously.”
“I still think it might come off as a little disrespectful,” she said.
“Well, I’ll ask you about respectable behavior when you can manage not to act like a sl—”
Jared never got the chance to finish.
It wasn’t even that Conor did anything. He just walked between Sierra and Jared, and…loomed.
There was a moment’s silence.
“There’s a misprint on the schedule,” Conor finally said, his voice big, deep, and full of warning. “We need to get moving now to keep up with protocol.”
Jared wasn’t the type to let Sierra ask him to leave, and he definitely would never wait around to be kicked out by a man who could so obviously crush him. So he stood up all on his own, checking the expensive watch on his wrist as though he’d just remembered an appointment.
“Fix your schedule, Sierra,” he said, again. “And try not to embarrass me too much at whatever stupid thing you have tonight.”
And with that, he walked away, trying very hard to look like he wasn’t being chased away by the silent, staring, gorgeous hunk of pissed off bodyguard who watched his every move.
Sierra barely heard the door close behind him. Because, as soon as Jared was out of her sight line, she could only think about one thing.
Conor.
Now they were alone. Together. And she had nothing to distract her from the current of need that kept pulling her towards him.
Jesus, Sierra, you really need to get laid.
When he turned around to look at her, she couldn’t take it. She looked down, wrapping her arms around her to cover her breasts. She wasn’t wearing anything scandalous — just some yoga pants and a t-shirt — but it didn’t matter. Her body wanted him. She could be wearing a burlap sack, and she’d want to cover herself.
“Thanks again for last night,” she said, finally, just to have something to say, and immediately regretted it. Because now she was thinking about what he’d felt like, holding her. And all she wanted to know was whether he was thinking about it too.
“I told you I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you,” he said. “I keep my promises.”
Sierra pressed her lips together, nodding, trying to ignore the warmth gathering between her legs. If she looked into his eyes she’d be screwed. And yet…
Did he feel this too? Was she just crazy?
No, you are definitely crazy. She was being stalked, she had a weird family situation, and she was about to launch a business, all of which required her to be incredibly careful about everything she did, all the time. And on top of that, she hadn’t been laid in forever. Not just laid: she hadn’t been Dominated. And the stress from all of that was building, drop by drop.
She was trapped, on all sides, and now she wanted a bodyguard she couldn’t have. A bodyguard who, she remembered bitterly, thought she was kind of a moron. Just like everyone else.
She needed to let off some freaking steam.
“Ok,” she said, and braved those blue eyes. “Let’s go to work.”
Ten
As they made their way downstairs, Conor had a few things on his mind.
First, that little piece of intelligence about the Fiore inheritance. If both Jared and Sierra were set to come into their inheritance on their birthday, that was one hell of a motive for Jared to kill his twin sister. If she died before that he’d probably get everything. It was a ticking clock. Conor hated ticking clocks.
Second, a big fancy party on the Fiore compound would make it easy to get into Jared’s office and get whatever evidence he needed. But Jared wanted Sierra at the compound, probably because it would be easier to kill her there. Which meant Conor didn’t trust it.
All of that, however, was running in the background. In the foreground, there was Sierra Fiore and another goddamn dress.
He took another look as the elevator doors closed, and inhaled, deeply. You’d have to be a monk not to get worked up about that woman in that dress. And he was no monk.
Where the last dress had barely been a wisp of fabric, this one at least wasn’t half-transparent. There just wasn’t very much of it. Two strips of shimmering red dropped down her chest from where they were tied together behind her neck, just barely covering her breasts and giving Conor an eyeful of soft, almost glowing swells of flesh. The area between her breasts was bare. Just skin. Skin that demanded to be licked.
Just like her breasts needed to be bitten. And her soft, dark hair needed to be pulled.
He killed the rumble in his throat, but he kept on looking. She was meant to be looked at.
But he didn’t like everything he saw. She was wound up. Anxious. He could see it in the subtle tension of the muscles in her neck, the way the corners of her eyes seemed tight. The way her fingers fidgeted on the little bag she held in her hands. All signs of a nervous system in overdrive.
And Conor knew what she needed.
Release.
He tore his gaze away from her body and stared straight ahead, just in time for the elevator doors to open. Nothing had changed. Conor wasn’t going to compromise Sierra’s safety, no matter how much she needed to submit.
Or how much he wanted to tear that dress to shreds before bending her over the security desk.
After getting rid of the security guard, anyway. Conor didn’t share.
“Lenny!” Sierra said, as soon they were out in the lobby. The security guard who was supposed to be on duty when the stalker came around looked up, pure worry on his face.
&n
bsp; “Lenny, what happened?” Sierra said. You could hear the concern in her voice, like she was ready to stay there and chat for however long it took, not caring that she was decked out in a dress and heels that short-circuited most men’s brains. “They said there was a family emergency. Are you ok? How’re the kids?”
Lenny Berra looked nervously at Conor for a moment, then decided how he was going to play it. He smiled, softly, in a way that cracked his old face, up at Sierra.
“Turned out to be nothing, Miss Fiore,” he said. “Just a prank.”
“I’ve asked you a million times to call me Sierra.”
“Old habits, Miss Fiore,” he said, relaxing in the warmth of Sierra’s smile like a lizard on a sunny rock. “The kids are fine, though. So’s the wife. She says thank you for the mixer. Do I want to know what that is?”
“Not unless you picked up a baking habit I don’t know about,” Sierra said. “In which case, I will demand cookies.”
Conor looked between the two of them as they chatted. Sierra wasn’t faking it. Man, sometimes it just didn’t make any sense how the same home could produce such different siblings. Jared wanted people to know he was better than they were. Sierra made sure people knew she cared about them.
That thing in his chest rolled over again.
“Sierra,” Conor said. “Schedule.”
“Right,” Sierra said, and her smile froze unnaturally on her face. “Rooftop bar opening. Let’s go.”
Just like that, she turned on a dime. Like a flip had switched, the warmth drained out of her face, and her eyes went distant.
After that, Conor watched her real carefully.
He watched her try to put her face on in the back of the car again. That game face, the armored mask. It took her longer this time, and the mask never really set.
Somewhere in his brain, Conor’s Dom instincts started to sound an alarm.
He watched her as they walked up to the bouncer at the front of the line outside Boston’s newest rooftop bar. The place had its own elevator and entrance, so the line to get in was backed up down the street. Conor didn’t like the security angles, not at all.
