by Jagger Cole
I blush as I walk down the hall towards the break area. I put a cup under the spout of the fancy Italian espresso machine and push the button. Almost noiselessly, the chrome and matte red machine hums, and sweet sweet caffeine begins to drip into my cup.
“Well, you’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?”
I recognize the voice as Jenna, the head assistant.
“No?”
“Oh my God, girl…” Jenna clears her throat. The voices are coming from around the corner, like they were last time I was in the break room.
“Well, rumor is, he’s got a new plaything.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep,” Jenna says smugly. “Someone from the office, actually.”
My face burns hotly. A gnawing feeling twists in the pit of my stomach.
Another woman’s voice gasps. “Oh my God, seriously?!”
“Uh-huh. Someone at his every beck and call, I’m sure.”
Another woman snorts. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no. To Barrett King?” She laughs. “Hell no.”
“Carla, he’s an asshole!” The second voice responds.
“Duh, but a yummy one,” Carla snickers back.
“Well whoever it is, I hope she knows what she’s in for,” Jenna grumbles. There’s a round of “mhmm”’s and “girl, yes”’s. I decides it’s probably best to make an exit. I turn to quietly leave. But then my elbow hits the sugar caddy next to the espresso machine. I wince when it topples over to the floor. The women around the corner gasp.
“Hello?!” Jenna blurts nervously.
I wrinkle my nose. Shit. I clear my throat and plaster a smile to my face. I peek gingerly around the corner. “Um, hi.”
“Oh, hey girl!” Jenna beams. All four assistants look visibly relieved to see it’s just me. “Just” me. If they knew I was the “plaything” they were talking about, they might be slightly less relaxed looking.
“So, heard the latest?” Jenna rubs her hands together.
“No?” I lie.
“Well,” Carla drums her fancy manicured nails on the break room table. “Mr. King has a new office plaything.”
I laugh nervously. “Oh really? Sounds…juicy?”
“Oh, it is,” Jenna grins. “Well, at least for the next week. Until he finds another one.”
The table of women snicker amongst themselves.
I frown. “Another one?”
Jenna laughs. “Oh my God, Delphine. This is his thing. Everyone knows it.”
My lips tighten. “What is?”
“Hooking up with new girls in the office,” one of the other women says.
Carla nods. “Yep. God, he’s been with like ten of them.”
I feel sick, instantly. My face feels pale. My stomach twists. “Are you serious?”
“Well, I mean nothing confirmed,” Jenna shrugs. Then she grins. “But, you know, yes. They all left, and they all settled out of court. Allegedly.” She winks and air-quotes the last word.
“A guy like that?” Carla clicks her teeth. “Safe to say he’s pretty used to getting what he wants. Especially from the new girls who don’t know any better.”
Jenna laughs. “Better watch out, Delphine, you’ll be next!”
They all laugh. I force myself to as well. But inside, I feel sick. Inside, I want to run out the door and not stop running until I’m as far away from Barrett as I can get.
12
Barrett
Something’s amiss. It’s not that she’s being sassy—I’ve come to expect that from Delphine. I’ve come to be more than slightly attracted to that in her, actually. I like that she throws my bullshit back in my face. I like that she back-talks.
But this is different. She’s barely said a word to me since I picked her up outside of her building in the limo. When I spoke to her on the drive over, she responded with single words. When I put my hand on her knee, she shoved it away and looked out the window until we got here.
Dealing with her hot and cold bullshit outside, or in the limo, is one thing. But in here, I can’t and won’t abide her little cold shoulder routine. In here, I need her to play a role. I don’t need her hanging off of me or showering me with physical attention. In fact, that wouldn’t actually be smart. I don’t need or want the room to think I’m fucking her.
But I do need her to be the gorgeous face that pulls the attentions of the older investors at whatever this gala is raising money for. She’s the bait, and I’m the hook. Or really, we’re both the hook. I need rich assholes in their sixties to be tripping over their single malts to drop bad lines on her. Only to then realize she’s a financial wizard who can talk circles around them. I want them dazzled, maybe a little horny, and impressed when I swoop in to sell them on King Equities.
But she’s not playing that part. Fuck, she’s not playing any part except looking cold, unsmiling, bored, and moody as hell. Not even the real horn-dogs with sexual harassment settlements longer than their investment history are approaching her.
And when I approach her? Forget it. It’s right back to single word answers and zero eye contact. If this is a game, I do not want to fucking play it. Not ever, but certainly not tonight.
The gala is in this old gothic church that’s been turned into a ritzy nightclub. The pulpit is now a DJ booth. The bar is where I’m betting the confessional booths once stood. Flickering candles on old looking gothic chandeliers hang down from the vaulted ceilings. The second floor, where the choir once stood, is a glassed-off VIP room. Though it’s been closed for the gala.
From the bar, I scowl as I watch Delphine across the dark dance floor. It doesn’t help that she’s dressed to fucking kill tonight. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress…but it’s a black cocktail dress on steroids. A plunging back that dives all the way to the small of her back. And a front that plunges past her cleavage to her sternum. Slit up the side, with fuck-me black heels.
Somehow, she looks both as elegant as a queen, and like pure sex. I scowl at her and her bristling cold attitude. But Christ do I want her. I want to take her right here, tonight. I want to watch that petulant scowl melt into a moan for me.
I want to fuck the sass right out of her until she’s moaning for me.
Suddenly, one of the guys on my “whales” list sidles up to her. His name is Eli Denith; a big-time investor from the UK who’s famous for playing loose and getting slapped with sexual harassment suits. He’s exactly what I wanted to go fishing for tonight. And yet, when he does approach Delphine, I snarl.
I clench my jaw. I hate the idea of any man looking at her like that. Or clearly devouring her with his eyes. Actually, it almost scares me how furious it makes me. But I bite back my fury. I slam down my scotch and watch. After losing the Torring Group, we need fresh blood in our portfolio.
Across the club, Eli grins lecherously at Delphine. I snarl again, and my fist clenches tightly. But suddenly, she says something back to him. His eyes bug out, and his jaw drops. He looks pissed, actually. He mutters something to her and whirls to stomp away.
But when he’s barely two feet away, she says something else. The guy whirls back looking flabbergasted and furious. Even I can tell from here he’s calling her a cunt. I slam down my glass. My breaking point has been reached. This fucking creep leering at her had me right on the edge. But this is more than I can hold back.
I snarl and shove my way through the crowds. My eyes are locked squarely on her, like my prey. But by the time I get there, Eli is gone. Delphine’s just standing there leaning against a cocktail table looking smug. She smiles thinly and raises her champagne when I stomp over.
“Great party, Barrett,” she says sarcastically.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
“You know why you’re here, Delphine,” I growl under my breath.
“And I told you, I’m not going to be your arm candy,” she snaps back.
“Then be my fucking genius new analyst and talk shop!” I spit back. “But y
ou’re here because I need you to—”
“To what, Barrett?” She snaps.
“To help me reel in new investors, not send them packing with whatever snarky shit you said.”
She laughs coldly. “I’m sorry, are we talking about that British creep who just walked over and casually asked me if I wanted to blow him?”
I snarl, loudly. “I’m sorry, what?!”
“Yeah. He asked me if I thought my dress would look as good on his hotel room floor as it did on me. When I told him to get lost, he told me he’d rather get my lips around his dick.”
I seethe with rage. Part of me wants to go after Eli. I want to find where he’s slimed off to and beat the ever-loving fuck out of him for speaking to Delphine like that. Christ, it’s like a caveman-brain response. But I know a better way at making him hurt for his transgression.
I pull my phone out and call the finance team back at the office. With the Torring Group departure, my investment team is on red alert and working around the clock.
“Evening, Mr. King.” Ravi runs a team of math geniuses for me that cram numbers like super computers. Tonight, he and his team are going to be my sniper rifle. Or more like my atom bomb.
“I need you to nuke Denith and Associates.”
Ravi clears his throat. “Strategic or personal?”
My lips thin. “Make them bleed, and I want Eli Denith to know who’s knife it was.”
One of the reasons I’ve done so well is that I’ve hired the right people. I also have a big enough war chest that I can use my power to destroy most upper-mid-level companies at will should I choose to. I’d usually rather make money than make enemies. But Eli’s crossed a line, even if he doesn’t know…
I frown. I was about to say “that Delphine is mine”. But even thinking it shakes me. I glance at her. My possessive lust for her surges. Again, it’s like a caveman response. A rival has tried to take what’s mine. Now, he’ll pay.
“Surgical or…”
“I want his company to be worth half of what it is tonight by tomorrow morning, Ravi.”
My quantitative wizard chuckles. “Scorched earth it is. We’re on it, Mr. King.”
When I hang up, Delphine is looking at me curiously. “What was that?”
“That was me making a point.”
“No, I got that. I’m just curious what that point is.”
My jaw clenches. “I think you know.”
She blushes. But she purses her lips. “Is this about me?”
“It’s about sending a message.”
She laughs coldly. “Okay, this macho chest-beating shit? Leave me out of it. Yeah, he was a creep. But I’m a woman working in finance, Barrett. I’ve talked to plenty of fucking creeps. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m handling—”
“I’m not yours, Barrett!” She snaps. “I’m not—” she gasps when I surge against her. I snarl, and my hand grips her wrist tightly. My other instinctively goes to her hip. I don’t give a shit about people seeing us. I yank her body against mine. My eyes burn down into her wide ones.
“Yes,” I snarl. “You damn well are.”
Her lip quivers. But she bites it and scowls. She pulls back from me, glaring up at me.
“What,” I snap.
“Nothing, I just think our little arrangement has run its course.”
I smile thinly. “I disagree.”
“What is it, Barrett? Did you get tired of secretaries and interns?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” she snaps. “I know about the other girls, Barrett,” she hisses.
“Other girls?” I frown. “Delphine, I haven’t even been on a date in like three years—”
“I’m talking about your little ‘playthings’,” Delphine mutters angrily.
I smirk. “Playthings?”
Her face darkens. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. It’s all over the office, Barrett!” She bristles. “All those other girls you’ve gone through? The ones you got bored with and then had to settle with outside of court?!”
I sigh. Then I chuckle quietly. Delphine reacts about as badly as you’d imagine.
“Oh, is that fucking funny?!” She fumes.
My jaw clenches and my hackles raise. I glance around. We’re off to the side of the gala. But there are ears everywhere, and this is about to be a scene. I growl, grab her waist, and yank her across the club.
A security guard at the side door looks like he wants to tell me I can’t do something. But when he sees the fire in my eyes, he just nods and steps aside. I brush past him, yanking a fuming Delphine after me. Through the doorway, I pull her after me up the steps until I kick open the door to the VIP room above the gala. I pull her inside and slam the door shut behind us.
“No,” I snarl. I whirl on her. “No, I don’t think it’s fucking funny at all. But if I don’t laugh at it, I break things.”
“I don’t care what you do, Barrett,” she hisses. “But I am not going to be one of your little playthings—”
“They exist in every big business run by men or women like me,” I growl.
“Like you how.”
“Young, successful,” I shrug. “Good looking.”
Delphine rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, you have no modesty whatsoever, do you?”
“I have no time to sugarcoat the truth, Delphine. These women, and there are men too, throw themselves at CEOs like me. If you respond and take the bait, you’re fucked. If you don’t take the bait; you’re still fucked. Because then they’ll just lie and say whatever it takes.” I glare at her. “So, you settle out of court.”
She laughs coldly. “And you expect me to believe that all ten fucking women were just after a big payout and lied about sleeping with you?”
I smile thinly. “It wasn’t ten.”
“Fine! Nine, eight…”
“It was twelve.” I ignore her jaw dropping angrily. “And yes, I did. I settled with them to shut them up with their lies. Yes, Delphine, it’s bullshit that some girl can claim I fucked her on my desk and threaten to take me to court. But the fifty-grand it takes to make it go away is inconsequential to me. It’s nothing. It’s a rounding error; the cost of doing business.”
She swallows. I can tell that she’s still trying to look pissed. But the fire isn’t there behind that look anymore.
“I don’t date. I don’t pick up women. And I don’t fucking touch my employees, Delphine,” I hiss darkly.
“No?” She sneers. “I suppose I’ve been imagining things for the last few days. Because I seem to remember you doing a bit more than touching me,” she snaps
“Well I’m glad I left a lasting impression.”
She blushes through her scowl. “So?”
“This is different.”
“How exactly is this…”
“Because I fucking want you, Delphine,” I hiss. I snarl and surge into her. She gasps and steps back against the glass window overlooking the gala. “And I want you like I haven’t wanted anything in a very long time,” I growl.
“Barrett…”
“And I know you fucking want me, too,” I groan.
She swallows. Her eyes track mine, and her face flushes darkly. “And what exactly makes you think I want…”
“Because you’re dripping fucking wet for me right now,” I growl. I press into her, pinning her to the glass. “Because we’re not at the office, and you’re still not wearing any fucking panties under that dress.”
She gasps quietly and blushes deeply. “Well, you’re wrong. About both.”
“You’re a bad liar, you know.”
She bristles. “What on earth would make you think I’m here without any fucking panties on?”
I smile hungrily. “Because I can tell.”
“You cannot fucking…oh!” she gasps when my hand slides down and grips the edge of the slit of her dress. Her eyes fly to mine. “Barrett…”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I growl thickly. I start
to pull the silky dress to the side. The slit peels and splits up her leg, exposing her soft, creamy thigh. I start to pull it the side. My eyes drop, and I groan. I see more and more thigh. Then slowly, her hip peels into view. I tug the dress a little more and see the tempting crease between her thigh and her very obviously bare little pussy.
“Barrett…” she gasps quietly. She’s breathing heavily. One palm is flat again the glass. The other grips my dress shirt. “What are you…”
“Taking what I want,” I growl. I tug the dress all the way to the side and snarl. I was right, there’s nothing underneath the dress but her glistening wet pussy.
I push my hand between her legs. My pulse roars, and my cock surges against her. I cup her dripping wet sex. Delphine whimpers, and then moans when I drag a finger slowly through her lips. I rub her clit in a slow circle. Delphine moans and clings to me. I roll her clit under my thumb, and then curl two fingers into her slick hole.
“Oh fuck!” She moans. “Wait, Barrett…” she glances over her shoulder at the gala beneath us. But it’s dark down there, and even darker up here. The glass is tinted, too. If anyone were to look up, at best, they’d see a woman leaning against the window wearing a slinky black cocktail dress.
I sink my fingers into her tight little pussy. I stroke in and out, curling them against her g-spot. My thumb rubs her clit back and forth, maddeningly. I lean down, but she meets me halfway, violently. Her lips crush to mine, and I snarl into her kiss.
Her hand drops to my throbbing bulge. She cups my dick through my pants and moans. Her fingers grip my zipper and tug it down. She fumbles at my belt, moaning as I stroke her slippery cunt with my fingers and thumb.
I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my fucking life. There are a million reasons not to do this: the fact that she works for me. The fact of who her goddamn family is. Who her brother is.
But I scatter all of them like sand. None of the potential consequences matter.
She undoes my belt. I reach down and push my boxers down too. I pull out my thick, throbbing cock, and Delphine moans. She feels me hot against her thigh. I stroke, and she whimpers.
