Descent

by Natasha Knight

  “Listen, Anna.” She turns to me. “I don’t know why Hayden—Mr. Montgomery—sent you, but I don’t need a housekeeper.” Lie. I can’t exactly manage this house on my own. “I appreciate your help, but you can tell him I don’t need you.”

  “I’m sure you two can discuss it when you see him this morning. Shall I bring breakfast up? Cook has prepared something warm.”

  “Cook?”

  She nods.

  I just stare at her as she picks up the coffee tray. “No. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be downstairs then.”

  There’s a cook too?

  When Anna leaves, I walk into the bathroom and switch on the shower, looking at my reflection in the mirror as the water warms up. The bags under my eyes seem to have lessened. I guess the seven hours of sleep I must have gotten after that session in the study did the trick. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well and so long.

  And I can’t remember how I got to bed.

  I shake my head, tell myself that I hate Hayden, and step into the shower. I shampoo and condition, being gentle as I wash between my legs. I’m tender and it’s no surprise. The man is a giant.

  When I’m finished, I wrap a towel around my hair and one around my person. I roll my eyes remembering the language of the contract. I bypass the dress and pumps and opt for a pair of jeans, an oversized sweater, and a pair of boots that won’t have me breaking my neck as I trudge around town in the snow.

  I pull my wet hair into a bun at the top of my head, drop my phone into my purse and walk out of the bedroom, rifling through my bag for the keys to my Jeep as I go.

  Anna is still humming when I get downstairs, but I don’t stop to tell her I’m leaving. Instead, I grab my coat and walk out the door well ahead of the car Hayden is apparently sending for me.

  The driveway’s been plowed and I’m guessing I have Hayden to thank for that. The Jeep handles snow well so a few minutes later, I’m on my way to the club.

  I dial Lizzie, but the phone goes directly to voice mail. I leave her a message anyway. I ask when she’ll be home, also telling her not to be surprised by our new maid and cook because I have a feeling they’re not going to up and leave on my word. Hayden’s people only jump on his command.

  With the roads as they are, it takes me twenty minutes longer than yesterday to get to the club. When I walk in, I see Peter.

  He looks as thrilled to see me as I am to see him. He opens his mouth and I just hold up a hand.

  “If you’ll just let him know I’m here,” I say, heading him off, even taking off my coat and handing it to him.

  He smiles, looking relieved, and gestures for me to take a seat on the cognac colored Chesterfield. The fire crackles in the fireplace and the smell of the cinnamon rolls a waiter carries into the dining room makes my stomach rumble.

  I’m looking for where I can get some coffee when an irate looking Hayden stalks through the door, dark eyes pinning me to the spot.

  He opens his mouth, looks me over and must change his mind because instead of saying a word, he shakes his head, takes me by the elbow and walks me through the restaurant to the hidden elevator doors.

  “You don’t have to be so rough,” I tell him as I try to tug free.

  “I think you need rough.” Is his reply as he watches the numbers on the screen above the doors.

  “Not everything is about sex, you know.”

  “I didn’t say a word about sex.”

  “Your dirty mind twisted my meaning.”

  “Right.” He hustles me into the elevator and releases me, punching in his code for floor thirteen, I guess.

  “What is wrong with you?” I ask.

  “Why didn’t you wait for the driver?”

  “Because I can drive myself. Believe it or not, I got along perfectly well before you walked back into my life.”

  “Perfectly well is questionable.”

  The doors slide open and he gestures for me to enter his office. He follows close behind.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but we need to get some things straight,” I say.

  He leans against his desk, folds his arms across his chest and studies me, eyes sliding over me momentarily before returning to my face.

  “Smug doesn’t become you,” I say as I take in his smirk.

  “What was wrong with the dress I chose? I thought you’d want to at least give the appearance of being a professional.”

  “What was wrong with it is that you chose it for me. You don’t dictate what I wear. And by the way, four-inch heels in this snow is a sure way for me to break my neck. Although maybe that’s what you want. It’d probably make things easier for you.”

  “That’s the farthest thing from what I want,” he says, more serious than I expect. “I’m surprised you don’t know that yet.”

  “Hah!”

  “And if you’d have waited for my driver, he’d have driven you door to door. Minimizes the risk.”

  “And then you’d have more of me to look at. Isn’t that how you’d put it during our first meeting?”

  He grins. “That is always a bonus. I do like looking at you, Persephone. I’d like to look at you now on your knees swallowing my dick.”

  My jaw drops open.

  Ignore him. He’s just fucking with you.

  “Have you sucked cock before, or will I have to teach you how?”

  I stalk up to him, hands fisted at my sides, my head about to explode. What I want to do is slap that irritating smirk off his face but I’m smarter than that so instead, I poke a finger at his chest.

  “I will never—never—kneel for you.”

  He laughs outright, tugging me close as the elevator dings behind me. This close, I smell aftershave and remember it lingering on my sheets, on his shirt that I’d put on this morning.

  I feel the heat coming off him and no matter how desperately I want to want to pull away, energy pulses, radiates off him and it’s like a lasso. I can’t get away even as electricity like a live wire singes my skin.

  “Never say never, sweetheart,” he whispers against my ear before spinning me around as the elevator doors slide open and a man I don’t know walks inside.

  “Ethan,” Hayden says, pulling me to his side as the man approaches.

  “Hayden.” The man extends his hand to shake Hayden’s. “Morning.” He looks at me, checks his watch. “Am I late?”

  “You’re right on time. Ms. Abbot was early. Anxious to get things done.”

  I glare at Hayden.

  He smirks. Again.

  One day, I am going to wipe that arrogance off his face. One happy day.

  “This is Persephone Abbot,” Hayden says.

  “Percy,” I correct, extending my hand to shake his.

  “Persephone,” Hayden continues. “This is Ethan Smith, the attorney who is handling the takeover of Abbot Enterprises.”

  It takes all I have to school my features, to put on a blank face. “Did you know my father, Mr. Smith?”

  “Ethan, please.”

  “Ethan.”

  “I’d met him once. I heard what happened to him. How is he doing?”

  My heart twists. “He’ll be fine. Better every day,” I lie. I don’t know why. More for myself than anyone else, I guess.

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Should we get to business?” Hayden asks, finally releasing my arm.

  The moment he walks away from me, I feel a chill. Like there’s a sudden drop in temperature. It’s such a strange sensation and not the first time I’ve felt it around him.

  He pushes a button on his phone and orders coffee to be brought up.

  “Are there any cinnamon rolls?” I ask, squeezing the muscles of my stomach to quiet the rumble.

  He smiles approvingly. “And cinnamon rolls.”

  When he hangs up, he gestures to the sitting area where I perch on the sofa, a chesterfield that matches the one downstairs. The leather is worn and comfortable. I sat on it yesterday too,
but I’d been so distracted, so over-tired, I barely remember the day.

  My mind revisits last night, though. Hayden finding me asleep. Hayden trying to wake me up. Did he really think I was trying to hurt myself? He got so angry once he knew I was all right.

  The thought takes me back to Nora and I wonder if those were the pills she’d used. I wonder if that’s what got him so upset.

  But he was right. It was stupid to take so many of them. I was just desperate for sleep.

  “Persephone?” Hayden asks, eyebrows arched.

  I look at him, then at Ethan who is pointing to something on the contract he’s laid out.

  “I’m sorry, I missed that.” I seem to have missed the entire conversation.

  “The amount you and Hayden agreed upon for the shares. If you’ll initial here?”

  I look down at the number, confused. We hadn’t agreed on anything. We hadn’t discussed it at all. I know from my conversation with my father’s attorney the amount I can expect, considering the position I’m in, but the number I see in front of me is double that.

  I shift my gaze to Hayden, then read the number again.

  “I…” I’m not a numbers person. I never have been. But even I know that’s too much. “Should I have my lawyer here?” I ask Hayden, realizing how stupid it must sound asking the man who is ready to take over our company by any means necessary, if I need a lawyer.

  “If you’d like, you can call him now,” Hayden says. “That number is fair, though.”

  “More than fair,” Ethan adds. “Technically, their worth is much lo—”

  “That’s not necessary, Ethan,” Hayden cuts him off. “I’m not taking advantage of you, Persephone.”

  I look at him, remembering how he was last night. For as harsh as he is, he’s also tender. Gentle. Almost caring. My eyes warm with tears and sometimes I hate being a woman. I cry at everything good or bad, happy or sad.

  I break eye contact and stand, clearing my throat. “I’ll just make the call.” I don’t have to look at him to know that was wrong. The amount is generous. I know it. But still, he is taking my family’s company. That’s what I need to remember.

  I pick up my purse, dig for my phone inside it. I move away from the seating area and dial my father’s attorney. He answers quickly, it’s his private line. He and my father are friends. They have been since graduating Yale together. He’s had dinner at my house countless times and is more like an uncle to me than an attorney.

  I start to explain what’s happened, but he stops me. “I have a copy of the paperwork here. Montgomery sent it earlier today. I’d prefer to be there with you, but honestly, it’s more than we could have expected.”

  “And I have no options.” I’m not sure why I’m asking.

  “I’m afraid not, Percy.”

  “Thank you.” I hang up and when I turn around, I find the men discussing something as they drink coffee. A plate stacked high with cinnamon rolls sits on the table, a butter dish beside it, but I’ve lost my appetite.

  When I return, they stop their conversation.

  I pick up the pen and initial beside the number. I don’t look at Hayden as Ethan explains a few more things and finally we’re at the last page and I sign. I just sign.

  Hayden turns the contract around as I set the pen down, I’m not sure what I feel. Defeat. Loss. I don’t know. But this is final.

  He signs his name and a moment later, the men stand.

  “It was nice to meet you, Percy,” Ethan says. “If you need anything else,” he adds, handing me a card, “don’t hesitate.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watch Hayden walk Ethan to the elevator and when he’s gone, Hayden turns to me.

  “All right?”

  I force a deep breath in before I stand to face him. “Not really, no.”

  “I was generous.”

  “You still took what rightfully belongs to my family.”

  “Just control of it. Not much will change in the day to day.”

  “Still.” I busy myself looking for the keys to the Jeep. “I’m leaving. I guess you’ll be back later to take more of what doesn’t belong to you?”

  I think if he got angry, it’d be better. If he looked at me like I was an adversary. Not the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’m something to be pitied.

  “Don’t,” I tell him, my voice catching in my throat.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t pretend to care. Don’t pretend like you give a single fuck. You’re leveling the scales, taking justice into your own hands. Justice for what, I have no idea, but I know you feel you’re owed and there’s no point in saying more. You have what you want. Abbot Enterprises. The Abbot family home.”

  I see his jaw tense.

  “And you have me. Well, my body at least. I hope you’ll be very happy.” I step past him meaning to get to the elevator, knowing I won’t. Knowing he won’t let me.

  And just like that, his hand clasps around my arm stopping me in my tracks.

  “Your father put you here, in my path. Not me. Don’t presume to know my motives.”

  “They’re very clear, Hayden. Take. Take everything from my family. From me.”

  His eyes narrow dangerously, and I draw a deep breath in.

  “I wish you’d tell me what it is he did, then at least I’d know. And maybe I’d understand why you hate him so much. Why you hate us so much.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “No? But you get even. And I’m collateral damage.” I exhale a sharp breath, shake my head and tilt it. “Tell me something, are you there yet? Are the scales balanced yet?”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Why not? Why does it matter?”

  “I don’t hate you, Persephone.”

  “That little detail doesn’t matter either. I’m still here. I’m the one signing away my father’s company. I’m the one who pays. Tell me, is it enough yet? Have I paid enough for our sins?”

  “His sins. His.”

  “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m warning you. Stand down, Persephone.”

  “Stand down. Roll over and betray my own father. Yours may have been shitty to you, but mine wasn’t. Mine was—is—good.”

  His eye twitches. “He isn’t.” His nostrils flare as he forces a breath in and I can see him reining himself in, trying to check his anger.

  “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  He grips the hair at the back of my head, snapping the clip holding it in place. He’s so close, the tips of our noses touch. And like this, this close, his eyes are on fire. Ablaze with fury.

  “You want to know if it’s enough?”

  I swallow, nod, because I’m too stubborn to stand down. To heed his warning.

  “We’re just getting started,” he whispers, twisting my hair, making me wince.

  My hands are flat against his chest and we look at each other like this. Facing off before the battle.

  But the thing is, he’s already won. We both know it.

  Now it’s a matter of enjoying the spoils of war.

  Me.

  He shifts his grip so his hands come to my shoulders, settling like two weights there.

  “Kneel,” he commands.

  “No.”

  “I said kneel.”

  “I will bite your dick off if you put it near my mouth.”

  His glare is that of a predator who’s cornered its prey. “I have no doubt, but it’s not your mouth I’m interested in right now.”

  Something in his eyes makes my heart beat faster and sends heat to my core because even like this, even as enemies, I’m turned on. This is what he does to me.

  He spins me around and leans in close behind me. I feel him at my back. Feel the heat of his breath on my neck when he repeats that one word. “Kneel.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to comply. I guess he knows I won’t. Instead, he forces me down and even though I know it’s pointless, I resist. He kn
eels behind me and shifts one hand to my throat and the other down to undo my jeans. When he slides his hand into my panties to cup my sex, I want to want to pull away.

  But when he touches me, it’s like I’m lost, like I’m not myself. I come apart at his touch and it scares me like nothing else does.

  He rubs my clit and releases my throat when he does. No need to hold me in place. I’m panting. I can’t get enough.

  “You hate yourself for wanting this. Wanting me.” His breath tickles my ear and it’s as if he’s read my mind because he’s certainly reading my body.

  “I hate you,” I say, sucking in an audible breath when he pinches my clit.

  He reaches for the butter dish beside the now cold cinnamon rolls.

  “You wish you hated me.” He drags my jeans and panties down and pushes me forward so I’m on my hands and knees. He then shoves my knees as far apart as he can with my jeans pushed down and settles himself between them.

  He spreads me open and I look back at him. Look at him looking at me and fuck. Seeing him like this. Seeing us like this. What it does to me, it makes me heady and it’s something I can’t reconcile.

  He shifts his gaze to meet mine and scoops a thick glob of butter with his fingers while placing his other hand between my shoulder blades and pushing.

  “Down on your elbows. Ass up.”

  I do as he says only because physically, I’m no match. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  “What are you doing?”

  He keeps his gaze on mine as he smears that butter on my asshole. When I understand what he means to do, how he plans to fuck me, a panic sets in and I’m back up on hands and knees, crawling away.

  Or trying to.

  He keeps me in position with one hand clamped around my hip as he laughs, pushing a thick finger into my asshole.

  “Oh god!”

  “What am I doing?” he asks, sliding that finger in and out, the butter making the passage slippery.

  “Hayden, please—”

  “Hades,” he corrects.

  He pulls his finger out to collect more butter. Shifting his hand to push me back down to my elbows, he grips his thick cock with the other and rubs butter all over it. As afraid as I am, I’m equally aroused.

  “What am I doing?” he asks again.