I cautiously ask, “Is that why you lash out at women?”
“No, I do that because it gives me a boner.”
We laugh and smile. “You’re too much.”
“The room was my grandmother’s.”
“Your grandfather only golfed through…”
“And when the cat was away, that mouse played with all kinds of people.” He leads me down the spiral staircase to the double doors where we step inside the hallowed ground. He clicks on the bright lights. “This is my grandmother’s playroom.”
Flabbergasted, I muster out, “Her dungeon.”
“Yes,” he reassures, popping a mint in his mouth. He places one on my tongue like a communion wafer in his sanctuary. I walk around with an innate curiosity, capturing the essence of the old equipment. I completely misjudged him. “I have never brought a woman here. Nor have I ever taken a woman to my beach house. Hotels—quick, easy, noncommittal. Clean and neat. Or a club for practicing my craft. Never here.”
At a cabinet, he pulls open a drawer full of scrapbooks and memorabilia. He hands me the framed picture of a young woman in fetish gear. “Those black thigh highs go up to her crotch!”
Rubbing his smooth chin, he snickers, “Yeah, they do. They don’t make them like that anymore, but I have several pairs of hers.”
“This is part of who you are,“ I whisper, startled. “Who is the woman tied up in that picture?”
“That is my ‘Aunt’ Sadie,” he says, smiling at the memory. “She wasn’t really my aunt. She was my grandmother’s girl for years.”
“She’s such a fetish provocateur.” I lay my hand on the necklace. “This is more than just kinky sex for you.”
“Yes, it is a spiritual place.”
“I crossed you,” I regret, understanding Jynx more than I ever thought possible. “I tread on the sacred—your religion.”
“Bingo,” he comments, pointing at me, as the scent of clove wafts through the air. “I’m old. Girls don’t ask to be raped. Rape is a crime, a punishable offense. Ravishment is more what I believe you’re looking for, child.” He winks.
“Thanks, minister of kink,” I tease, immediately regretting it. “I disrespected something I knew nothing about. And I am very sorry. The ad is done. It won’t ever go back up.”
“When we go to Savannah, you will walk in on my arm as my date, my lover, and my submissive. Many people in attendance will probably know what you are to me because they know me, and they knew my grandmother. Don’t let it unsettle you. I will take care of you and protect you as long as you’re mine.”
“... Am I yours?”
“You’re wearing my collar,” he admires, touching my neck, “which looks ravishing on you.”
“How did your grandmother get away with this?”
“My grandfather kept a mistress for years at the old foundry he did the books at,” he says with a touch of naughty. “The deal was, they could both do their own thing, but divorce was out of the question because too much money was on the line.”
“Did they sleep together?”
“God, no! Grandma took over the third story suite and the game room. My grandfather stayed in the middle room on the second floor when he was here, but he spent most of his time with his lover until she died. I stayed downstairs in the room you were in.”
“You grew up around Sadie?”
“And many others,” he adds, studying my reactions to everything. “Lady Clementine was famous in these parts.”
I’m awestruck by not only his story, but his sharing. I have so far to go in both regards. “When did you start?”
“Shit,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “I was probably fourteen when I first ventured out on my own. I’d go to the seedy bars with Sadie. She did comedy routines, and I ended up picking up some twenty-something.”
“You don’t remember her name?”
“Not a fucking clue,” he says, aloof. “Might as well call her first wet pussy willing to ride me. I seriously don’t pay attention to these things. I know your name because yours is the only one that matters.”
I stick my tongue out with the mint on the tip of my tongue, and he sucks it up into his mouth. “Can I say it once?”
“Yes.”
“Master Jeremiah Monroe.”
A grin incrementally perks upon his lips. “Yes, my love?”
“Is it wrong that I want to be wearing leather shorts like Sadie with Clementine’s boots on and having her grandson whip my ass?”
“Not at all,” he says, pulling me closer. “It sounds like a heavenly dream to me.”
“I will proudly walk into the party as yours, Sir.”
I lower to my knees as he grins. “This is my first sinful act in this room.”
“The first of many,” I whisper as he unzips his pants and reveals his cock to me. It’s the first time I’ve honestly gotten a good look at his manhood. He is everything I ever imagined—thick, long, and veined. “You aren’t cut.”
“No, because my mother was busy tramping about town on the eighth day,” he confides. “Her very Jewish parents never forgave the act, which led to the disintegration of the relationship and subsequent loss of visitation.”
“Are they still alive?”
“Yes,” he replies, smiling. “Both of them. In the last decade, I’ve tried to make amends, but it isn’t easy because they do not speak to their daughter at all. We share the same view of my mother.”
“Are you close with any of that side?”
“My Aunt Trudy, and her son, my cousin Deacon.”
“Do they practice Judaism?”
He considers how to answer the question. “No, they practice the same religion I do, Shorty.”
16
The Quit
Jynx
In a stunning red dress with her long hair curled and piled high on her head, I escort the raving beauty into the shark pit party in an upscale Savannah hotel. Under the twinkling lights, we descend the steps with glances to my beautiful date. The annual event is for the sole purpose of company morale.
Thank heavens employee morals never come into play.
Tucked in my pocket is the remote control for the butt plug I’ve inserted into my lovely hostage. I’m starting to believe she is the terrorist attacking my heart.
I wave and smile like I’ve rehearsed my whole life for this.
I should’ve been a politician.
God knows I’m crooked enough.
Before this night, I was the most eligible bachelor at company functions. My typical behavior included tossing back a few drinks and a cheap thrill in a hotel room with someone who I wouldn’t be the boss of eventually.
I scan over the crowd dotted with about a dozen (very) young escorts. Dad’s addiction is ever-present. I care about my father because he’s helped my ass out of some tight spots, but the man known as Montgomery Monroe is a sleaze.
Spotting my drunken mother at the bar, I snarl and guide Echo away from the wreck waiting to happen. She doesn’t need to encounter that cow.
Unfortunately, I end up running into Axel, who is always on the prowl. Echo clings to my side as he approaches up in arms. “We need to decide what we’re doing. Dad is considering selling next week. If we want our legacy, now is the time to say something.”
In a classic Axel-is-a-dick-and-a-prissy-bitch fashion, he doesn’t bother to greet or introduce himself to my date, and I don’t go out of my way to do such because the last thing my brother needs is more ammo.
“Who is he selling to?”
“Some new group out of Europe ran by women.”
“Dammit,” I reply, scanning the crowd and glancing down at the girl by my side. Her innocent smile fills my heart. I clear my throat. “Let the company go. We’ll figure it out.”
She tightens her grip on my arm, grounding me as my somewhat naive baby brother says, “Are you sure?”
He doesn’t have the stability I possess, and he depends on me to make the big decisions. It’s been this
way as long as I can remember.
I lead; he follows.
I joined Reckless Rebellion; he had his prospect cut on within forty-eight hours. I went to work for Dad; two weeks later, Axel was in conference calls.
My lifelong shadow is a six-foot playboy with a penchant for shiny things.
I pray Echo powdered her entire body.
I give Axel a lot of shit about being slightly flamboyant, but I also know that if I needed someone to transfer crypto currency or bury a body, he would have my back.
Axel is a good person—to me, but he doesn’t ever feel the need to man up. He’d never plunge a toilet or use a tool of any kind. I imagine he expects the women in his life to know how to operate his tool because that would simply be too much work.
Truthfully, I doubt he’d ever hit on Echo out of respect to me. However, he wouldn’t think twice about killing someone if they hurt her—but he’d hire a hitman to do it.
I’d do it myself.
“Yeah, we got this,” I reassure, trying to calm his nerves. Underneath his perpetual asshat-mode, Axel has an enormous heart. He’s worried about the employees and their families because selling out like this is never good. “We’ll get something going on. No worries.”
“I trust you,” he mutters, fidgeting and laying his hand on my arm. “This is a tremendous shift of where you and I planned on being, but I talked to Deacon, and he’s onboard.”
Of course, he is.
Because my Cuz knows I’ll make him a shitton of money.
“If Dad has already overlooked his two sons,” I rhetorically think out loud as I ponder the circumstances. “Do we want him backseat driving wherever we decide to take the company?”
Axel turns to look at Echo. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know anything about this,” she softly whispers.
“Certainly, you have an opinion,” he stresses, taking two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He hands her one. “Tell me.”
“A long-term strategy based around your subservience to what I assume will be a remaining board member is not a good way to take over any business,” she thoughtfully says, taking a sip of champagne. “If he’s ignored you thus far, there is no reason to believe that will ever change.”
Axel grins. “Where are you from?”
“Originally, Alabama. But I live in California,” she answers, and Axel tilts his head at me.
I snarl, crossing my fingers that he keeps his mouth shut. He merely nods and says, “Take care of my brother. He’s a snake.”
“I plan on it,” she counters with an uppity smirk. “His snake is easily charmed by me.”
Damn, this girl.
“What’s your degree in again?”
“I’ll be working on getting my doctorate in psychology in the fall,” she proudly informs. “Why do you ask?”
“Are you interested in coming to work for the Monroe brothers?”
Her brows tightly knit together because I hadn’t brought up Axel’s idea to Echo yet—we’ve been a little busy between farm work and kneeling practice.
It’s like football practice with different balls.
Axel suggested her doing human relations and performance coaching for our new firm. Start it off strong and keep building upon that.
Her sharp glance discreetly warns of the trouble I am in. “We’ve been talking about it,” she lies, on the spot, covering my ass. “It will all depend on Jynx’s relocation and compensation package. I don’t come cheap or easy.”
Inside, I die laughing—that is my girl—while my dick throbs like an insatiable beast. The girl I have waited an entire lifetime to find comes in a five-foot, twenty-two-year-old, smart-mouthed package.
I want her on my team.
Not the company team, but Jynx Monroe’s team. “Come to the beach house tomorrow. We’ll figure out what our next move is.”
“Over half of these people are being fired next week.”
“I know,” I reply with concern. I’m not immune to what is on the line, and it’s been wearing on me since I left Arizona. “And they’ll be immediately hired by J.A. Monroe Consulting.”
Axel shakes my hand and smiles. “Good meeting you, Abby.”
Fucking dick.
He walks away as I take a deep breath to regain my composure. With concern in her eyes, she whispers, “How does he know my name?”
“We need to go talk someplace privately.”
“I would say so,” she rebukes as I lead her outside to the balcony of the hotel bar. “What was that about?”
Lighting a smoke, I ask, “Which part?”
“All of it,” she says, polishing off her champagne and stealing mine. “Start talking, or I start walking.”
Shaking my head, I cackle, “Where are you going to go?”
“I can catch a plane too,” she seethes, reminding me of the words I said to her. “I’m not a baby or a child, but a woman with credit cards and money. I don’t need any lies or games.”
“Axel knows your name because I told him,” I remark, grinning. “I have nothing to be ashamed about with you. I have no problems putting you on full display in front of my family, friends, and future employees. If I did, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Gee, thanks,” she sarcastically mumbles. “And what about my new job? I thought you didn’t plan things, Mr. Monroe.”
I’m caught red-handed on this.
I’m making plans for post-summer bliss with the girl of my dreams.
She doesn’t know any of this yet, though, because I fail at communicating.
I politely suggest, “There are several good universities in South Carolina.”
“… You’re kidding, right?”
Dad steps onto the balcony and approaches. “Who is your lovely date, Jeremy?”
Her eyes widen at me.
“This is Echo Maines, Dad.”
I spend the next twenty minutes frothing with rage at the bar while my father twirls and spins my willing abductee amongst the hopping crowd. I’ve lost count how many bourbons I’ve downed next to my mother, but it isn’t good.
Shit is bad.
I want to return to the farm and our love bubble, where we were alone to be ourselves. Outside factors influence relationships, but I readily dismiss the environmental noise contaminating the current situation.
“She’s quite young,” my mother admonishes with a distinctly judge-y tone. “An unusual choice for you. I’d be careful. She may be a gold digger.”
Ripping off my bow tie and undoing a few buttons on my shirt, I say nothing as I walk out onto the dance floor. The party is in full swing—on disco, drunk, and delusional as the DJ plays old school favorites—nothing like watching my dad and Echo making letters in the air while shaking their asses.
I tap the old man on the shoulder. “She’s mine,” I boisterously claim. “Now.”
Leaning into me, she mutters, “About time, you showed up, Master.” She winks.
With ease, Echo slips into my hands, and we dance—and I don’t mean ballroom. We’re jamming to Donna Summer, The Bee Gees, and getting down with deep rolls and grinds. “Do you realize this music is from twenty to thirty years before you were born?”
“I do! My dad is a musician,” she yells. “You’re doing a pretty fair job of keeping up with me, geezer!”
She sticks out her tongue, and I answer the challenge by swinging her out and dipping her. “Your point?”
“I have several, but I’m a little tipsy at the moment.”
I laugh. “I could crank up the vibe for you.”
“I appreciate you not doing it while your dad was doing the Y.M.C.A. with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I chuckle, holding her close. “Shall we get the fuck out of here?”
She bounces around, grooving and snapping her fingers. For the life of me, I cannot stop laughing. My professional life is in shambles, but Echo manages to make me smile with genuine happiness. “You’re going to be the Monday wate
r-cooler discussion, Monroe.”
I bust out laughing, “That is not something I want to think about, Maines.”
“You know it’s true,” she says, shaking all she has next to me. “They’re going to want to know when you found your long lost daughter and why you were getting your thrills on with her.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, raising the stakes. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”
I hoist her up in my arms, and we make out with a thorough tongue thrashing. I’ll be lucky if my mother doesn’t have a heart attack on the bar stool. My hands clamp on her ass as I realize what attracted me to her in the first place—this girl is fun. I mean, who the fuck in their right mind posts a rape ad? That alone says she’s a little off her rocker, but the more I get to know her, I see the humor behind everything she does.
She’s fucked up.
But so am I.
And it works.
It really works.
“If you plan on being my new boss,” she hysterically laughs. “Does this mean you will be bending me over your desk for a little afternoon delight?”
“I swear I’m whipping your ass when I get you to our suite.”
“Oooh,” she coos, puckering her lips. “Whip me, Daddy!”
I seriously try to contain my amusement, but I can’t. Axel snickers, shaking his head next to Mom, who stands up, pointing and complaining about our antics. Meanwhile, my father is surrounded by the teenage call girl cavalry of Monroe Consulting.
“You want to play? We will.” I toss her on my shoulder, shortcutting through the crowd for the exit. I pull out my phone and hit send on the resignation letter I had drafted. At the elevators, I send the text to my father.
I quit.
Echo
In the lavish hotel room, I stare out at the lights dotting the night sky. The cork popping sends an energetic rush through me. “Why did you do that?”
“Which part?” he asks, pouring the champagne. “The dancing or the quitting my job?”
“Both,” I seriously say. “Tell me the truth.”
Beautiful Things Evil People Do Page 14
