“He actually checked in this time?”
“I told him you were…indisposed.” Marlene knows not to bother me when I’m dealing with a hybrid employee.
“I’m available now. Send him back.”
Waiting by the mini bar for my brother, I pick up a crystal tumbler and contemplate pouring us a couple of drinks. It’s way too early, barely past breakfast time, but I need a drink in the worst way.
“Hey, asshole.” I turn to see my younger brother, Beckham standing there wearing his signature smug smile.
“You’re late.” I sit the tumbler back down. “As always.”
“Lighten up,” he scoffs, trudging across the room with his hands shoved in the pockets of his linen pants.
“Just get back from Turks and Caicos?” I eye his casual get-up. “Or are you on your way there?”
“One of us needs to take a vacation once in a while.”
“You get enough rest and relaxation for the both of us.”
“Who was the pretty blonde walking out of your office in tears a minute ago?” Beckham has a twinkle in his eye.
“Hands off.”
“Oh, is she one of your…what do you call it? Submissives?” He waves his hands in the air in a flamboyant fashion.
“Only simple minds poke fun at things they don’t understand.” I take a seat at my desk and pull up my email. My brother’s only been here five minutes, and already I’m ready for him to leave. “When are you going to see Uncle Leo?”
It’s more of a command than a question.
“Today,” Beck says, popping down into a guest chair. He rests an elbow on the arm and leans against his hand, gazing out the window. I know he’s not ready. He’s been keeping a safe distance this entire time Uncle Leo’s been sick, and we both knew this day would come. Beck’s not equipped to deal with emotional anything, then again, neither am I, but I never excused myself from being by our uncle’s side when he needed me most.
Beckham smacks the arms of the chair and stands.
“You going now?” My fingers stop typing against my keyboard, and I turn to watch him head out.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be back later. Odessa’s around here somewhere. If you see a sassy redhead wandering the halls, she’s with me.”
“Ah. You decided to make it official with her?”
Beckham cracks a smile and points his finger at me. “Don’t.”
The second my brother leaves, I head to Bellamy’s office. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so intense with her this morning, but I said what I said, and there’s no taking it back. I’m not above apologizing, and it isn’t my intention to make her sulk the rest of the day.
I rap on her door but receive no answer, so I show myself in.
She’s gone.
THIRTEEN
BELLAMY
“Excuse me, are you crying in there?”
I dab my eyes and stare at the space beneath the stall door to see a pair of peacock blue pumps. I’m not sure if it’s Harlow or Brenna or Caitlin, but I’m not about to let them see me like this.
I hold my breath, hoping that will force the heaving to stop, but it only makes it worse.
“Hello?” The girl knocks on my stall door. “I hear you in there. Open up.”
I don’t want to deal with the mean girls, and I don’t want them to ask what happened. To be honest, I don’t know what happened. There’s no reason for me to be in a toilet stall crying my eyes out like the homecoming king just dumped me on football Friday night.
“I’m Odessa,” the girl says.
So it’s not Harlow, Brenna or Caitlin?
“You going to come out?” The toes of her blue heels lean forward like she’s standing on her tiptoes. “I’m really tall, and I can see over the door, so you better come out. Okay, I’m not that tall. Never mind.”
I dab my eyes once more with the generous, four-ply toilet paper Townsend Towers keeps stocked in the bathrooms, and unlock the door.
“Thank you, yes, there you are.” Odessa stands with her hands on her hips and a relaxed posture, and immediately I can tell she’s the kind of girl who’s not afraid to take on the world. A blanket of shiny auburn hair frames a creamy, flawless complexion and her dark green eyes are framed with the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. “Got a name?”
“Bellamy. Do you work here?” I thought I’d met everyone, but maybe not?
Her lips pinch. “Sort of. I work for Townsend Energy Holdings but not here. I’m out of the New York office.”
When I inhale the air cools my lungs and almost makes me forget I’d just been crying. “Oh, do you work with Beckham?”
“You know Beckham?” She says his name with an eye roll and a bitten smile. “Or do you, like, know Beckham.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
Odessa bats her hand. “Forget I said anything.”
I step past her and wash my hands at the sink before taking a cool, wet paper towel and patting it against my warm cheeks. Walking back to my desk is going to be difficult, especially knowing I have to pass the reception desk where the other girls hang out.
“You’re crying over a guy, right?” Odessa stares at my reflection in the mirror.
“Maybe.”
“He’s not worth it, whoever he is. They never are.”
“I know.”
“If you know that, then why’d you let one get you all worked up?”
“It wasn’t really him; it was mostly the way he spoke to me. It was hurtful, and he wasn’t supposed to hurt me. At least he said he wouldn’t.”
She rolls her eyes again. “That’s what they all say, and you know what? They’re all a bunch of fucking liars. Pardon my French.”
I suppose she’s right.
“You want to get coffee or something? Are there any good coffee places around here that don’t have a green mermaid as a logo?” Odessa points to the door.
Dane would be livid if I just walked out of here without saying anything. “I don’t know. I should get back to my desk. My boss is probably wondering where I am. I’ve been in here a while.”
“Who do you report to?”
“Dane.”
Odessa grins wide. “Oh, I’ve got this. You’re going with me. I’ll deal with him if he gives you any shit.”
Somehow I don’t think that’s how it works with him.
She takes my arm and drags me out of the restroom and toward the elevator.
“I don’t have my purse,” I object.
“Good thing I have a company credit card.”
***
“How long have you been working here?” Odessa pulls out a chair at a table next to the front window of a small coffee shop. “I don’t remember seeing an email about you?”
“This is my first week.” I sit down and take a sip of my hazelnut latte. It’s my second one today though I hardly touched my first one. Cortland made us stop and get coffee together on the drive in this morning. He thought it’d be cute, and he ignored me when I pleaded with him since we were running late. “I’m his concierge.”
Odessa sits her cup down and squares her shoulders, the corners of her mouth curling a moment later. “You’re shitting me.”
I shake my head, looking from side to side. “No.”
“I mean, I’d heard rumors that he did that, but I didn’t know it was really a thing.”
Shit.
The non-disclosure agreement. I should’ve memorized the damn thing because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to disclose that I’m on the payroll for sexual favors.
My hand claps over my mouth. “Odessa, please don’t tell anyone what I just told you.”
“Were you crying over Dane?”
My chin dips, and I glance out the window.
“Please, tell me you weren’t crying over Dane.”
“He’s intense,” I say. “We have an agreement, and I’m just not sure I’m what he needs, and I need this job.”
“You’re exactly his type.” She angles hers
elf in her chair, and her tone is flat. “Blonde. Blue eyes. Pretty. An innocent ingénue ready to be shown the world…”
“I didn’t know he had a type.” Do I have a type? I guess if I did, he’d be like Dane, but nicer. A little less arrogant and a little more transparent. Someone I could get to know on a deeper level and without being on all fours.
“Why do you need this job so bad? There are millions of other jobs out there. Don’t work for someone who treats you like crap. You’ve got to have more respect for yourself.”
“It’s complicated.” I lift my Styrofoam cup and swirl it around to gauge how much is left. “Again, just please don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Anyone I might tell probably already knows.” She shrugs and takes another sip, her eyes following a striking man in a gray Macintosh jacket and wayfarer sunglasses who walks by and smiles at her.
“Who would you tell?”
“Well, Beckham,” she says. “We tell each other everything.”
“Are you and Beckham together?”
Odessa’s mouth drops and she lets out a robust laugh that causes the couple at the table across from us to stare. “Absolutely not. And please don’t ever ask me that again.”
Her laugh suggests I’ve just assumed the most outlandish thing in the world.
“Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.” She pulls her small clutch from her lap and yanks out her phone. “Speak of the devil.”
I try not to watch as she feverishly types back a response to Beckham’s text.
“I guess we have to head back,” she says. “I have to go with Beck to see his uncle in hospice.”
“Oh?”
“That’s why we’re here,” she says, standing up and tilting her cup back to get the last drop. After she tosses it in a nearby trashcan, she whips out a tin of Rosebud Salve and coats her lips before popping in a stick of gum. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
“So Dane didn’t tell you about Uncle Leo?”
“No.”
“I’m shocked. The man practically raised them, well, since they were teenagers.”
We leave the coffee shop and head back. I’m dying to ask more questions about Dane because silly me had only ever assumed someone as put-together and driven as Dane had been raised in some perfect family unit with two kids, a dog, and a picket fence.
“I wish you could’ve met Uncle Leo in his better days,” Odessa says with a wistful gleam in her emerald eyes.
“Is there anything I should do for Dane?” I ask. “Anything to help him cope with this?”
Her lips purse as her blue heels click on the cement sidewalk. “I doubt it. If he hasn’t mentioned anything to you yet, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it. The doctors say it’s going to be any day now. If Dane’s a little more on edge than usual, that might be why.”
He’s always on edge. I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference at this point.
“I see,” I say as we trek into the lobby and approach the elevator.
When we hit our floor, we walk side by side past the reception desk where the gaggle of gossiping girls stand. I’m not sure how or why Dane tolerates that, but it never seems like they’re working. Odessa shoots them a glare, and they all glance away like they share a brain. She’s a deflector, that woman.
“You ready?” A dark haired man in a casual linen suit rounds the corner and hooks his arm into Odessa’s, but she immediately retracts as if she knows he’s doing it to annoy her. Must be Beckham because he looks almost like a cut-and-paste version of Dane, only with a bit more playfulness in his stormy eyes. “Where’d you go?”
“Coffee,” she says, nodding at me. “And it was on you, so…thanks.”
“My pleasure,” Beckham teases, one eyebrow arched. He wears the same dimples, dark hair, and hollowed jaw as his brother.
“It was great meeting you, Bellamy,” Odessa places her hand across the side of my arm. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be around this week, but I’m sure I’ll run into you again.”
I duck past them and head into my office, waking up my computer to check my email. Not that I usually have any. I’ve yet to do any real, actual work in this place. My heart jumps into my throat when I see an email from HR asking me to head down to her office as soon as I get a chance.
This is it.
I’ve approached the end of the road.
I just want to forget this ever happened and move on.
Thank goodness my tears are all dried out. I stiffen my wobbly legs and rise up, pulling my shoulders back. I’m going to march in there, take it like a grown woman and spend the rest of the day in the city because I don’t have a car to get home, and my ride isn’t coming until five.
“Hey, Laurie,” I say a few minutes later, popping my head into her office.
She pulls her glasses off and sets them down, reaching across her desk for a stack of paperwork.
“Have a seat,” she says.
My heart thuds hard and deep, but I force a smile. I’ve been raised to grin and bear things, and this situation would be no exception.
She places a form in front of me and hands me a pen. “You forgot to sign your background check authorization.”
“Oh.” A shaky laugh settles in my throat as I grab the pen and sign my name on the line. “Is that all?”
“That is all.” She slips the form from in front of me and places it in a nearby stacker tray. “Carry on.”
FOURTEEN
BELLAMY
Sick relief swirls in my belly on my walk back to my office, and I stop dead in my tracks when I see Dane’s doors wide open. I haven’t seen him since my little episode this morning. I take a few hesitant steps toward his doors.
I’m going for it.
I’m going to take the high road, apologize, and pray we can both move on from this and resume our training. For twenty grand a month, I’m more than happy to swallow my pride.
“Dane?” When I enter, I see him standing by his window, a tumbler in his hand filled with amber liquid and stones. He turns around slowly, and the tiniest sliver of me swears his face lights up when he sees me, but it could easily be half wishful thinking and half my imagination.
“I’d tell you to come in, but you’re already here.”
“The doors were open.” I point behind me.
“Shut them.”
I follow his orders and amble up to his side, hanging my head. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He takes a generous sip and says nothing for a moment, just looks down at the traffic below.
“Why did you cry this morning, Bellamy?” he asks after a period of deafening silence. “I promised I’d never abuse or humiliate you, and I need to know what to do so it doesn’t happen again.”
“The accusation involving the family friend,” I say. “And the condescending tone. They were hurtful.”
“My delivery,” he says, “isn’t agreeable with everyone all the time. It’s something I’m aware of and something I have no intentions of overhauling anytime soon. But I respect that I should choose my words a bit more carefully around you. I’ll work on that.”
He leaves his empty glass on the window ledge, and I pick it up because it seems like something a sub might do. At the wet bar I rinse it out, pat it dry, and place it upside down on a towel.
When I return to his desk, where he’s staring vacantly ahead at his computer screen like he’s checked out, my heart aches. I’m sure it has to do with his uncle, but I wish he’d open up so I could at least be there for him.
“Everything okay?” I run my hands behind my thighs, tucking in my skirt, and take a seat across from him.
His gaze lifts from the screen to me, and his brows furrow as he pulls in a heavy breath.
“Take off your shirt,” he orders. “Take everything off.”
My nipples wake in response to his command, and my fingers trail my buttons, popping them one by one as he pulls a black satin ribbon from his top desk drawer. It’s the sa
me one from the pink box yesterday, and he uncoils it in his hand before rising and coming toward me.
“Stand.” There’s a desperate, hurried undertone in his single, biting word. And he moves like a man who’d do anything to feel an ounce of something normal again – whatever normal might mean to him.
The moment my clothes are lying in a heap on the floor, he turns me around, taking my wrists behind my back and tying them together with the smooth ribbon. With his hand gripping the bend of my elbow, he leads me to a leather-wrapped Chesterfield sofa and presses me into a seated position.
His fingers work his button and zipper until his fully erected cock is mere inches from my face. We lock gazes for a second, and he holds the tip of himself up to my mouth. My lips part as I accept his velvet smoothness into my mouth. My tongue runs the underside of his head, dragging along the ridges and coming back to swirl the tip. With my hands tied tight, I can’t control my movements as well, and I have to rely on the steady bucking of his hips to keep the momentum going.
But maybe that’s the point. His whole world is falling apart, at least I assume, and he needs to control everything about this situation.
My mind reminds me to stop psychoanalyzing him and suck his cock. I’m not here to figure him out, and clearly I’m nothing more than a couple of holes to fill to him.
“Harder,” he says, thrusting deeper into my mouth. It wasn’t like this the last time, and it takes everything I have not to gag. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat with every insertion, and my eyes water.
It was fun last time. This is unpleasant. At least it’s not painful.
His hand grips my chin, pressing my mouth tighter around his engorged erection and creating a tighter seal as he pumps himself into me. His cock writhes and unloads, and the warmth of his orgasm drips down my throat. He’s too deep in my throat for me to even taste.
When Dane’s finished, he pulls himself from my mouth and zips up before sitting down next to me and untying my wrists. I wipe the tear tracks from my cheeks, hoping he doesn’t think he made me cry.
“You know, Angel, if you’re ever not comfortable with something, you just need to say stop. That’s your safeword.”
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