by W Winters
A shiver runs down my shoulders and I fucking love it.
I open my eyes again and look at Scarlet. She has the straw of her Starbucks in her mouth. The cup is in one hand and my phone is in the other. I’m about to say something when the phone rings.
“Shit.” Scarlet’s face goes white, all the color draining away in an instant. “Oh my God.” She’s really shaken. The ringer isn’t loud, but there is a good volume to it. I had it off silent so I could use it for an alarm this morning. She almost drops her drink, but catches it at the last second and shoves the phone back into my hand.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say, trying to laugh it off and lighten the mood. “It’s an unknown number. We won’t worry about it.”
“That scared the shit out of me,” Scarlet says, and I know it did. She runs a hand through her hair. She paces away from her cart and leans against the shelves. “Just about gave me a heart attack.” It takes her a minute to shake it off.
“Are you okay?” I question her although she’s starting to seem a little crazy. It was just a phone ringing … not a gunshot or something intense happening at The Club.
“I’m completely fine,” Scarlet says, attempting to play it off. “And he doesn’t give shit away. I could like, literally hear his voice in those texts.” Before I can respond she adds, pushing her own cart behind mine, “You should also learn the art of sexting.”
“How about we look at the rest of the sheets, instead?” I joke and just like that, it’s all back to free and easy and putting thoughts of Declan on hold.
We spend another fifteen minutes in the bedding aisle. I go with a set of cream sheets with a higher thread count than anything I’ve bought before. They have a soft cotton feel, no slippery satin, and they’re somehow lightweight and sturdy at the same time. It’s going to feel freaking amazing to sleep on these. I also pick out a new comforter, a high-end one that I could absolutely see in an expensive hotel, in a coordinating color, just a slightly darker cream from the sheets but with that texture that caught my eye earlier, and new pillowcases. “Your bedroom is going to be the lap of luxury,” Scarlet says. She has her eye on the sheets too. “I didn’t think I wanted new bedding, but maybe I do.”
It takes a few more minutes for her to choose a set of her own, and we make our way to the checkout counters. It’s a busy day and there’s a line. We get into one together, me first, then Scarlet. When I look back at her, she’s obviously distracted, biting her lip and staring at the magazines near the back of the line.
“Are you okay?”
Her expressions brightens up and her red lips curve up in a smile. “You’re a good friend, Brae. But I’m fine.” She waves me off.
I greet the cashier and as she’s ringing up my items, my phone buzzes. “I have to warn you,” I turn to face Scarlet with the phone raised, “I’m getting a call.”
Scarlet laughs. “Go ahead, answer. I’m fine.”
I’m expecting it to be another unknown number, or a spam call, but instead it’s my mom’s name on the screen. “Hi, Mama,” I answer quickly. “I’m at the checkout counter at the mall; can I call you right back?”
“Braelynn,” she says in a tone that chills my blood.
“Mama, is everything okay?”
Scarlet’s gaze whips to mine and I can’t pull my eyes away as my mother says, “No, nena,” sympathy coating her words.
My stomach goes cold at her tone, and it drops to the floor. I turn away from the cashier and from Scarlet, wrapping an arm around my stomach and drop my voice. “What happened?”
“I have to tell you some news,” she says, her voice shaking. “Is there a place you can sit down?”
Declan
“I won’t stay long,” I tell Nate as I shrug my jacket over my shoulders. As I’m checking my watch, I add, “Just keep the door open for her, she has plenty of files to sort while she waits.”
“I’m sure your brothers will be happy to see you and if anything comes up, let me know.”
Slipping my wallet into my back jean pockets, I tell him I will. Home is a good forty minutes away, which is one of the reasons I stay here at night. Too much quiet, too much downtime driving in a car for that long. If I leave now, I’ll be there right on time.
I can’t help the way my lips pull up at the thought of family dinner. My brother is right, it has been too long.
“I may call her on the way,” I say absently, as if I’d need Nate to tell her that. My good little pet always answers when I message her.
“I’ll handle everything here and the pickup from Joshua,” Nate says and nods, his hands folded in front of him. It’s the first time I’ve really noticed him all night. He’s got a fresh cut and shave, new shoes it looks like too.
“Sharp suit,” I compliment him, gesturing toward it with my phone.
Just as he cracks a smile, loosening up to say something, there’s a knock on the door, chaotic and demanding, followed by a troubled tone, “Declan.”
Before I can answer, my blood chilling, Braelynn barrels into the room. The door wasn’t locked. The sight of her is something I didn’t expect. It’s not time for her to be in and she’s dressed in worn jeans and a burgundy sweater that’s far too large on her.
Most disturbing, she seems out of breath, her skin drained of color.
“Did you kill Travis?” she whispers with wide eyes before I can say a damn word.
In my periphery, Nate is the one who moves as both Braelynn and I stand perfectly still. The air is tense and each passing second threatens to suffocate me.
“Boss—” Nate attempts to break the tension and I don’t spare him a glance as I dismiss him.
He hesitates a half second too long and I speak deathly low, “Get out.” My gaze is still pinned on my little pet who stares back at me, caught and unable to move.
Nate is silent as he leaves, his pace quick enough for me this time. He gives Braelynn a wide berth and as the door closes, she asks again, “Did you … did you?”
“Did I what?”
The door closes with a harsh click signaling we’re alone, and it’s Braelynn’s undoing. Tears brim in her eyes as she shakes her head in denial. She knew who I was and what I was capable of.
“Do not ask questions I’m unable to answer. I dislike that behavior greatly.” Taking a single step forward, she takes one back. There’s not much room for her in the least and with one more step, her back hits the door.
I gentle my tone, attempting to comfort her as I near closer, each step careful. “I don’t like men who hit women.”
“It was years ago,” she protests.
“You think you were the last? Men don’t change. All they do is wait to show themselves again.”
With a harsh swallow, her tears fall, slipping down her cheeks. Her body sags slightly and she looks anywhere but at me.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” I confess to her, an anxiousness I’m not used to overwhelming me. “What do you need from me?”
She answers me quickly enough, “I don't know.”
“I need you to think of something because I don’t think you’re going to enjoy my response if you don’t give me something to do right now.” The floor creaks as I stop in front of her, my faces inches from hers as I grip her chin and bring her dark brown eyes back to mine.
They beg me, but I don’t know what for.
“I don’t know,” she says just beneath her breath.
“Come here,” I command, opening up my arms. I don’t know what she mourns for. The loss of a former lover, or the knowledge that her current is a murderer, either way, she seeks comfort in my grasp.
My arms fold around her as she buries her head into my chest. Kissing her hair, I murmur to her that she’s a good girl for obeying.
Her body trembles and I rock her slightly as she calms herself.
“Are you scared?” I ask her the moment her breaths are even.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to need to know s
omething, my little pet.” Pulling away just slightly, I force her to look up at me. “You're smarter than this,” I tell her.
“More shocked than scared.” Her gaze drops before coming back up to confide in me, “But yes, you scare me.” I can barely breathe at her admission.
“Will you miss him?” My hand cups her cheek and with her answer, her small hand lays against mine.
“No.”
“Did you think I should have let him live after hurting you?” With my question her hand drops, and I hate it.
“You can’t go around killing—”
“Yes I can. And I will.” My tone is brutal and it seems to strike her. Again, I hate it. Anger brims. She didn’t even need to find out the man was dead. He was meant to disappear and be gone forever. My declaration is final. “Any man who hurts you, won’t live to do it again.”
She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t object. She doesn’t even appear to hold on to fear as my words register.
“If we’re going to do this, my little pet, you’re going to have to get very comfortable with a number of very uncomfortable things. I’m not changing and you knew who I was. I know you did. So let that sink in. If you’re mine, then what I am is yours. There’s no compromise there. I thought we already covered this.”
“Braelynn, do you know who I am?” I ask her and she merely nods, her eyes still searching mine.
“And do you know who are you to me?”
“Your pet,” she whispers.
“You are mine to take care of, and I will do that in the way I know how. Do you understand?”
With her eyes still reddened, but the tears long gone, she answers, “Yes.”
“Now come here, or walk away. This is the last time I offer you that. Is that also understood?” I can’t explain why the invitation to leave me slipped out. I wish I could take it back. Nervousness pricks at the back of my neck as she answers, “Yes.”
I take a half step back, unwilling to turn around. I’m all too aware that I’m scared if I were to turn my back, she could run.
“I will not hurt you or chase you if you decide to—”
“I’m not leaving you.” She swallows thickly, her hands closing into fists before opening again. She looks back up at me, “I knew who you were.” Her voice tightens and she clears it.
“You were stunned.”
“I didn’t know,” she says and closes her eyes, her shoulders sagging slightly and she doesn’t finish the thought.
“I don’t want you to mention things like you just did, unless you must.”
She nods without peering up at me.
My phone goes off, a text from my brother.
Fuck.
Glancing between my phone and a very lost Braelynn, I text my brother I won’t be making it tonight.
There’s no fucking way I could sit still ruminating over what just happened.
Her softly spoken question catches me off guard as my brother’s incoming text comes in. “Was it quick?”
“Does it matter?”
She blinks once before shaking her head. “I guess not,” she whispers, her voice tight. Again she seems out of place standing there, absorbing not only what I’ve done, but also what she won’t be leaving.
I’ll be damned if she can walk away after this. I gave her a chance. One more than I should have.
After tossing my phone that pings and vibrates with another unread message, onto the corner chair, I loosen my tie.
“Strip down and lie on the desk.”
Peering up at me, she gives a short nod before obeying. Her movements are slow, but steady.
My tie falls to the floor as she passes me, and every small sound is exaggerated. My blood rushes in my ear as my hand slips to the small of her back. She leans into the touch, glancing over her shoulder. Her dark eyes meet mine and I can’t wait for her to strip down and lay out how I like her. My arm wraps around her waist and I pull her into me, crashing my lips against hers.
Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me in close. Thank fuck.
“Declan.” She whispers my name but in only moments she’ll be moaning, screaming it even. I tear at her clothes and she clings to me.
When I finally plunge deep inside of her, I groan, “Mine,” and her legs wrap around my hips, keeping me there as she kisses me. She kisses me. Finding my lips, devouring them, and loving me how she should.
Braelynn
Secretary work hasn’t ever been my … desired profession. All Declan really has me doing is copying and pasting numbers, filing away invoices. It’s nothing dramatic and nothing that that requires much thinking. Occasionally some numbers don’t add up and I send it to some admin email to review. I’m not certain who it goes to, but whoever it is replies that they’ll take care of it each and every time.
It’s none of my damn business as far as I’m concerned. In the corner of Declan’s office, propped up on the leather high-back chair, I click away, making progress every day and waiting for … more pleasurable orders. Half of me wonders if Declan even needs me to do this. Or if he simply wants me occupied while I wait for him.
Usually I can get myself to concentrate on the numbers and the records, but tonight it’s impossible. I can’t focus. My heart pounds thinking of what he did. A hollow pit has opened up inside me and it seems to be taking over my whole body. Every breath I take makes that pit feel more frozen, heavier and as if it’ll stay like that forever.
I contributed to a death.
There’s no way of avoiding it or denying it. If I hadn’t told Declan about Travis, then Travis would still be alive. A chill flows down my shoulders. There’s no question of it in my mind. Once Declan knew he wouldn’t allow Travis to keep living. Knowing that I caused this to happen leaves a place inside of me empty.
The thing that makes the emptiness stark and almost shocking is that I should be … sadder, or scared. More terrified and regretful. I should be shaken to the core that Travis is dead, and that I caused it to happen.
But I’m not. I’m glad he’s gone.
With a deep, steadying inhale, I acknowledge the truth. I’m glad he’s dead. I have some remorse, but not enough to make me feel as though I’m a terrible person.
My mom didn’t raise me to take revenge on people. She wanted me to be able to stand up for myself. She wanted me to be able to set boundaries with others and keep myself safe. But revenge was never the way we lived our lives. “It takes too much of your precious energy, nena,” she’d tell me. “Make your life better. Don’t make other people’s lives worse.”
She wasn’t talking about killing a person. That’s not making their life worse, it’s ending it completely.
I push the laptop away, leaving it on the ottoman and pace. My gaze constantly focuses on the closed office door, as if I could will Declan to come back.
I need a break. I need something to distract me. I need him. He can make this feeling go away. He did it last night and he can do it again now. I just need him.
With my fingers making knots around each other, I look through the shelves on the walls, through classic books, eyeing collectibles that look like they’ve come from all over the world. It seems … curated. Expensive and luxurious. There’s a hint of Declan within the details, but it’s not quite him. Vaguely I wonder if he’s even read these books, or if he simply prefers to collect them.
The things that are more obviously Declan are tucked away where no one else can see. In the hidden room concealed by the bookshelf. I do two more slow laps around the office, checking for anything else to occupy my time, all the while waiting for him. Anything at all.
I shouldn’t be snooping, I know that, but the hidden door begs me to open it. It promises me he won’t mind if I wanted to look through the collection of leather implements.
My resistance gives way as the clock tick, tick, ticks, and I open it just like Declan did, pressing my hand against a panel, and all the whips and paddles he showed me before are revealed.
Holy shit. Heat engul
fs my body. It’s no less intimidating now that I’m alone.
I don’t dare touch a single thing, but I have time to trace my eyes over the whips and toys and tools. He has an impressive collection and my pulse flutters in my throat. He won’t hesitate to use these on me. Probably all of them.
I swallow hard. Some of the whips look vicious. The other implements make me just as nervous, though Declan promised me he knows how to use them. We’ve done enough together that I believe him. Even staring at the sharp ends of the whip, a heat pools between my thighs. He could make any pain turn to pleasure.
I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. In this moment, I’m certain of that.
Gaining courage, I take a thick vibrator out of the shelf and test the weight in my hands. Glancing behind me, I have to move around the shelf to check the door. Still nothing. I’m still alone. Placing the vibrator back, I decide to let my curiosity guide me.
I let my mind wander through the various scenarios that would be inspired by each one when I hear someone in the hall, the footsteps steady and sure. The nipple clamps fall to the floor. Fuck!
I snatch them up, making sure I haven’t left anything out when I hear the door open. Shit, shit, shit. There’s someone with him.
The space is large enough to stand in and like a child caught snooping, I barely get the door closed in time. My heart races in the dark space. There’s only a crack of light and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. The door is not all the way shut. Just enough that I don’t think they can see me.
I can’t see the door, but I hear it shut and the scooting of a chair. Oh my God. Why did I hide in here? Inwardly I curse myself.
I take a step back into the closet but my shoulder blades brush against the whips hanging on the wall. No more moving, or else I’m bound to push an item off a hook and give myself away. Through the thinnest crack in the door I can see Nate, standing near Declan’s desk, although his back is to me. I hope he doesn’t look back here and notice the open door. If he does, he’ll probably sense I’m standing right behind it.
