by Lola StVil
I don’t think Franklin would risk showing her the dirtier side of his business this soon, but I don’t know that he won’t. If I drive down that road and Elle and Franklin are there with a potential client, I know Elle will never forgive me. I’m certainly not going to abandon her there, but I can’t be seen. I jump out of the car, move into the trees, and start jogging along the road.
CHAPTER NINE
ELLE
I sit in the car beside Franklin, so excited at how the sales visit went. Franklin let me do most of the talking, and with the insights from Falcon, I was able to present the package we were offering quickly and efficiently, and they signed up with us on the spot.
Franklin was pleased with my efforts, and I really think he’ll be letting me out from under his wing sooner than I initially thought, which I’m relieved about. I want to text Falcon and tell him that I made my first sale, but I’m not sure about Franklin’s cell phone usage policy, so I decide to wait until we get back to the office. I don’t want to spoil my victory by ending up in trouble for sending personal text messages during work hours.
“You did well in there, Elle.” Franklin smiles at me as he drives. “I knew my feeling about you would be right. You know, you could go really far at this company as long as you know how to play the game.”
“The game?” I repeat.
He nods. “Yeah. You know. Fit in, don’t make waves, that kind of thing.”
“Oh yes, of course,” I agree.
I’m not entirely sure what he means by that. I mean, why would he think I would make waves? Does he think I would be someone who is confrontational with their co-workers? Or does he mean … something else?
I hope it’s not the last one, but I have a feeling in my gut that tells me that’s precisely what he means. That he means when he touches me inappropriately, I should keep my mouth shut and suck it up. I can’t help but think of what Falcon said about him paying women off to keep them quiet about his unwanted advances, and I know in my gut that there’s something off about him.
As much as I keep trying to tell myself it’s in my head, that I’m paranoid, I know it’s not the case. He’s definitely old school, a member of the old boys’ club that says it’s perfectly okay to treat women however the hell you want, and if they complain, to label them as trouble causers, and put the blame for everything back on them, trying to convince them they wanted it, or they were giving off a vibe, or some other bullshit.
I feel my stomach roll as Franklin turns on his blinkers and pulls off the main road onto what is more of a dirt trail than a road.
“Where are we going?” I ask quietly.
Isn’t it obvious? Somewhere for you to not make waves. Somewhere where this creep will touch you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it without getting sacked. Something you half agreed to when you decided not to make waves. Fuck.
The prospect of getting fired from my first real job in my first week is horrible, and I feel overwhelmed by it, but if he thinks he can touch me and I won’t say a thing about it, then he knows me a whole lot less than he thinks he does. I want this job, but I don’t need it, and that’s the difference between the other women he’s abused and me. I can and will talk, and if that means I get labeled as a trouble causer, someone to avoid employing, well so be it.
“To meet a client,” Franklin replies.
I glance at him, surprised by his answer. To meet a client? Out here? He sees me giving him the side eye, and he grins, an unpleasant grin that makes me shudder.
“Why? What did you want to happen?”
“Nothing,” I say firmly. “I was just surprised when you turned down here. I didn’t realize you could get through. I thought it was a dead end.”
“It is a dead end,” he agrees. “All that’s along here is a run-down old farmhouse. But as it turns out, the owner of a small but lucrative firm has just bought the farmhouse to renovate. He asked us to meet him out here so he can go through the house afterward and see what needs doing. He didn’t have time to go back to the office, and this was the only time I could fit him in.”
The explanation sounds just plausible enough that I relax a little. It’s unorthodox, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Sure Franklin gets a little too handsy sometimes, but it’s one thing to hold his hand on my arm for a second too long or to touch my knee when he talks to me and entirely another thing to bring me out into the middle of nowhere and rape me. I can’t believe that’s where my mind went.
It’s not entirely my fault that I’m paranoid around Franklin though. He still has this way about him that makes me uncomfortable—a way of saying one thing, but clearly hinting at another. And the worst part is, I think he knows it. Sometimes I catch him looking at me in quiet amusement, and I’m always reminded of a cat looking at a mouse as it starts to play with it before it goes in for the kill.
We move along the dirt road, and I’m conscious that every time we hit a bump in the track, my breasts jiggle noticeably beneath my shirt. I can feel Franklin’s eyes on them without having to look at him.
His gaze tells me this meeting isn’t entirely innocent, and I’m not sure what to believe. I hope he’s telling me the truth, that a client will be waiting for us at the end of the road, but I’m not entirely convinced there will be. I have to be sure though. I can’t just outright accuse Franklin of lying when I have no real idea if he is or not. What would I even say if I made that kind of accusation and there really is a client waiting for us at the end of the road? Sorry? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t cut it.
I press myself against the seat back, moving closer to the door, putting as much distance as I can between us. It strikes me as odd that he’s suddenly so quiet. There’s no talk of who the client is or what they might expect like there was going to the Obsidian meeting. It’s another red flag, another thing for me to worry about, but it’s still not quite enough for me to jump out of the car and run from him.
I swallow, and my throat and mouth are so dry that they make a clicking noise that’s audible even over the roar of the car’s engine. Franklin frowns slightly, but he doesn’t make any comment.
We reach the end of the dirt road, and there is indeed a derelict looking farmhouse standing there. I’m sure it could be stunning with some work, but right now, it looks like a haunted house, and it sends a shiver up my spine. There is no sign of any client. No car, no sign of life from within the home. Nothing to suggest there’s anyone out here but us. I feel panic start to spread through me, but I keep breathing normally, keep staring straight ahead.
Franklin looks at his watch.
“Ah, we’re a little early,” he says.
I nod and clear my throat, determined to handle this professionally and not make a scene or embarrass myself. I have to get out of the car though, just in case. Put some distance between us. And if a client shows up, well it’s hardly unprofessional to be standing beside the car, is it?
“I feel a little dizzy,” I say, reaching for the handle to the car door. “I’m going to stretch my legs and get a little air.”
I get out of the car, and I lean back against it. I think of the view of my ass this gives Franklin, and I push myself away from the car. I hear Franklin’s door open and close as he gets out.
“Are you alright, Elle?” he asks.
He sounds genuinely concerned for me, and I wonder for a moment if I’ve gotten this wrong. If there really will be a client out here. I nod.
“Yes. I think I was just a little hot.”
“Oh, you’re a lot hot.” He smiles.
Did he just say what I think he said? Does he somehow think this is flirting?
He moves from his side of the car, and within seconds he’s in front of me, cutting off my exit route. I back away, but there are only a few steps to cover, and I’m pressed against the car. He closes the gap between us and reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Elle. But you know that already, don�
�t you?”
I force a laugh, trying to laugh it off, trying to get it to stop without having to say or do anything that could lose me my job. How could I look Falcon in the eye if I got sacked for not sleeping with the boss after all the trouble me taking it has caused between us?
He leans closer as if he’s going to kiss me, and I duck away from him. He laughs, a bitter sounding laugh that scares me.
“Oh, you think you’re too good for me, bitch?” he snaps. “You think you’re too hot for me in your tight little skirts?”
“I …” I start.
I take a deep breath and start over again, keeping my voice low and even.
“I’m married, Franklin, and I have no intention of cheating on my husband with you or anyone else for that matter,” I say.
He snorts out another bitter laugh.
“So, you’re nothing but a fucking dick tease then? Coming to work looking like that, flirting with me, leading me on.”
I’m scared, but he’s making me angry now. How dare he hit on me and then imply I somehow led him on?
“What the hell are you talking about? How have I led you to believe this would ever happen?”
He shakes his head.
“Let’s see. How many times have I made my intentions clear, touching your leg, your ass? And not once have you told me to stop. And then you came here with me. You expect me to believe you’re stupid enough to think there was really a meeting here? You just wanted an ego boost, didn’t you? A way to prove to yourself I was into you. Well, guess what, Elle. I’m very much into you. And if you want to keep this job or work in the city again, you’d better be willing to put out.”
“Look, there have been some crossed wires here,” I say, trying desperately to defuse the situation. “I let the touching go because I thought you were being friendly and I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But—”
“Didn’t want to make me feel bad? Well, aren’t you just a little fucking sweetheart,” he snaps.
He closes the gap between us again, his voice low and dangerous.
“You’re a little bitch, Elle. A fucking whore. And I’m going to show you want happens to women like you when they fuck with the wrong guys.”
He reaches out and grabs my wrist. I try to wrench it free, but his grip is too firm. He shoves me roughly against the car. I try to twist away, to push him off me, but it’s no use. I’m pinned to the vehicle by his weight. I can smell the stale sweat on him, and I can see the crazed look in his eyes.
I feel sick, dizzy, terrified. What can I do to escape him before he touches me?
I hear a noise from the trees that line the dirt track, and I look up. My heart skips a beat as I see Falcon walking toward us, his face clouded with barely concealed rage.
CHAPTER TEN
FALCON
When I reach the end of the road, and the farmhouse is in sight, I instantly spot Franklin’s car. He and Elle are out of the car, standing beside it talking. I strain to hear their words, but I can’t. If I get any closer, I’ll be visible to them. I hang back, watching, waiting.
It’s still possible that a meeting could be taking place here. Elle and Franklin are just talking. I even see him laughing at one point. I’m not leaving here until they do though, and if Elle spots my car on the way out of here and recognizes it as one of my company cars, I’ll just have to deal with that as it comes.
Franklin is standing between Elle and me, mostly blocking my view of her. He’s too close to her for my liking, but I hold myself back. I can’t go out there and beat her boss to a pulp without a better reason than I was jealous because he was a bit too close if I want her to ever speak to me again.
Elle moves backward suddenly, pressing herself against the car, and I can’t decide if she’s backing away from Franklin out of fear, or if she just wants to take the weight off her feet for a moment. Her heels are damn high, and I know they’re likely hurting her feet.
Franklin reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. I feel a sharp twist of jealousy and anger come to the surface. I can hear my blood pumping through my veins as the red mist of rage overtakes me. I know now. Elle wasn’t backing away, he shoved her against the car. I don’t give a fuck what his intentions are now. He’s crossed the line, and he’s going to damn well pay for it.
I step out of the trees and Elle must hear me. She looks over Franklin’s shoulder at me, and the terror in her eyes does it. I’m no longer Falcon Morris, CEO and respectable businessman. I’m The Falcon, champion MMA fighter who doesn’t know when to stop without his trainer dragging him away from a fight.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife right the fuck now, you dirty bastard,” I say.
I don’t shout. I speak quietly, dangerously. Franklin hears that tone in my voice, and he drops Elle like she’s burning him. She scuttles away, moving to a safe distance at the hood of the car. Franklin turns around. His face goes white when he sees me, and his mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of something to say to appease me. It would be comical under any other circumstances, but there is nothing funny about what happened here today, and there is nothing funny about what’s to come.
“You … you’re married to Falcon Morris?” Franklin stutters, turning his head to look at Elle.
“Don’t you fucking dare even look at her,” I say.
I am only a couple of feet away from him now, and I can smell his fear.
“Look, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know,” Franklin says, his gaze back on me.
He backs up until he’s pressed against the car. His eyes are enormous, the whites seeming to grow larger as his fear grows. He knows he’s not walking away from this.
“Maybe you didn’t,” I say. “But you knew she didn’t want you. And you were going to force yourself on her anyway, weren’t you?”
He looks down at the ground and then he looks back up at me.
“She wanted it,” he says.
That does it. The taste of coppery adrenaline floods my mouth and my whole body pulses with anger. I am done talking.
I step forward and pull Franklin away from the car. I punch him hard on his jaw. His head snaps to the side. He looks at me, his breath coming in pants, his eyes those of a trapped animal. He swings for me, and I easily block his punch, shoving his hand away like it’s air.
I punch him again, square in the nose, and I hear a popping sound, feel the crunching beneath my fist. Red blood explodes from his nose, pouring down his shirt. He makes an oomph sound, his hands going to his face.
I don’t stop there. I punch him again and again, battering him, breaking his face. Bones break, and his flesh turns to raw red pulp as I beat him senseless. He loses consciousness and slides down to the car to come to a slumping position on the ground.
One of the first rules of MMA is you don’t keep going once a guy is down, but the rules go out the window when some filthy fucker touches your wife. I pull my foot back, delivering a swift kick to his ribs, hearing one snap.
The shock wave of pain brings Franklin back to consciousness, and I reach down and grab him by his suit jacket, dragging him back to his feet. He sways slightly, but he keeps his footing, and I throw another punch, busting his bottom lip. He goes down, turning in midair and coming to land with the car beside him.
He sits clumsily on his butt, trying to hurry away on his hands and feet. I let him scramble, make him think it’s over. Then I walk toward him, slow and purposeful. His face twists. Tears run freely from his eyes as terror seizes him. He knows this is the end for him.
“You better say a fucking Hail Mary, Franklin, because where you’re going, you’re going to need all the protection you can get. Now get the fuck up and fight me like a man.”
He keeps scooting.
“Please, I’ve had enough. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear. Please, just no more.”
His voice makes him sound like he has a cold, as his broken nose stops him from speaking properly. His begging does nothing to make me want to
spare him. If anything, it makes the complete and utter disdain I feel for him come on even stronger.
Would he have shown Elle mercy? Would he have taken his dirty fucking hands off her if she had begged him to?
“Fuck you. Get up, or I swear I’ll snap your fucking neck,” I say.
With great effort, Franklin follows my instructions. It takes him two attempts to get to his feet, and a third attempt to stay there.
“You are a fucking coward. Say it,” I shout.
I’m taunting him now, wanting to make him feel small and scared, the way he tried to make Elle feel.
“I’m a coward,” he repeats.
“You’re pathetic. You disgust me,” I spit.
I pull back my fist, and a hand grabs my arm. I spin around angrily, ready to take on this new challenge, but my fist instantly drops to my side when I see Elle standing there, her face panic-stricken as she clings to my arm.
It registers that through all this, I have been able to hear her voice shouting my name.
“That’s enough, Falcon. You’re going to kill him,” she says. “You’re going too far.”
I shake my head.
“I’m in control, Elle. I plan to kill the fucker for what he’s done to you,” I say.
“No,” she says, her eyes wide. “Please don’t do that. I need you with me, Falcon, not rotting away in a prison cell. Don’t let him ruin what we have together. Please.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELLE
I was so relieved when I saw Falcon step out of the trees as Franklin pressed himself against me. It became clear quickly that Franklin knew exactly who Falcon was and that he’s not someone you want to mess with.
