“Hard limits. Soft limits,” I say, teasing her with a trail of breadcrumbs that will eventually lead her to her final destination. “Things you will and won’t do.”
“I can’t imagine there’s much I wouldn’t do.”
God, she sounds like a fucking college graduate at a job interview.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” My mouth hardens. “That’s the last thing you should ever do around me, Miss Miller.”
Her eyes snap toward the desk where my hands are clasped hard, my thumb grazing over the curve of my opposite hand. My patience wears thinner by the minute, and if we could fast-forward a bit, I’d be yanking those pearls from around her neck and pressing her against the wall, two seconds from claiming every inch of her nubile body as my own.
But seeing as how she has absolutely no idea what she’s agreed to, taking her pretty pink mouth right now would completely disrupt our dynamic.
“Absolutely.” An agreeable smile accompanies her affirmation.
Bellamy is different. The subtle dominance I’ve injected into our light conversation doesn’t seem to have an effect on her. She’s immune to it. They say if you watch too much violence on T.V. or in the movies, little by little it doesn’t affect you as much.
That’s how she is.
Another man has already dominated her.
Another man has owned her.
A heat sears through my body from head to toe at the thought of her kneeling before another master. I knew from the moment I saw her, Bellamy’s milky white flesh belonged in my grip.
I wanted to be the one to break her in, to own every inch of her succulent physique.
“I spoke to Randy Mutchler this morning,” I said, my impatience searing through me hot and uncontrollable. My fists clench, fighting the urge to bend her over my knee and teach her not to lie to me again.
A white pallor fills her cheeks. “Oh. Y-yes?”
There we go. She’s stammering. I’m cracking her like the thin sheet of ice that wraps around her underhanded intentions.
“He’d never heard of you.”
Her brows arch before they furrow.
Still, she says nothing.
“Isn’t that odd?” I scratch the spot just above my right brow. “He offered you a very important job with secret terms, but he’d never heard of you before.”
Silence.
“You understand that back at the bar, when I offered you this position, you had ascertained that you’d just been hired by Randy Mutchler as his concierge.” My arms fold. “Do you know what a concierge does?”
“They’re like a personal assistant.”
“Yes, Bellamy. That would be the standard definition of a concierge.” I drag in a breath and cock my head. “But if you knew Randy Mutchler, and if you ran in our circles, you’d know that the kinds of concierges we hire are sexually submissive in nature.”
Her lips purse as she stares in her lap at her fidgeting hands.
“I don’t know how you know Randy or why on earth you would lie about something like that.”
She brushes hair from her face, running her teeth across her lower lip. Her eyes drag slowly until they fall into mine. “You want the truth?”
“Only if it’s the actual truth. Don’t tell me another lie to cover up the ones you’ve already spoken.”
I lean back, thinking about how perfect my hand would look clenched under the soft spot of her jaw, her mouth pressed open just enough that I could steal a ghost of a kiss from those fuckable lips.
I’ve never been so sexually aroused by a woman who’s found a way to crawl under my skin and check off a whole host of my personal red flags.
Her silence concerns me.
“I haven’t got all day, Bellamy.” I tug my sleeve up and check the time once more. This woman has wasted a half hour of my morning, and I still haven’t prepped for my nine o’clock conference call with New York. “Fine. I can ask questions. I’ll extract this information from you the best way I know how.”
Bellamy’s hand drags down her pencil skirt and then hooks on her crossed knee. “I am a liar. I lied to you. There’s no other way to put it. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Her mouth parts once more, as if she’s going to speak, but she hesitates. Instead, she rises, gathering her things, and turns to leave. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve met her at the door, slamming my open palm against it before she has a chance to escape.
And that’s what it is really.
She’s escaping.
Escaping her consequences.
“You can’t just offer a quick apology and dash out the door, Bellamy.”
I startle her, forcing her to take a step back as she clutches her bag across her chest. I fully expect to find fear in her angelic face. Instead, the slight flare of her nostrils and her refusal to look me in the eye suggest she’s packed full of an impressive amount of ire.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes give in, daring to meet mine.
She doesn’t fight or struggle. She doesn’t try to pull away from me, grab the door handle, or run down the hall like she’s just escaped a serial killer.
Instead, she stills in a solemn silence.
“You’ve been taught to obey, haven’t you?” I ask. “Or is it a natural obedience?”
Standing this close, I see how clear her eyes are. They’re colorless yet bright, crystalline with a touch of sky blue.
“I’m a firm believer in the fact that everything happens for a reason, Bellamy. It’s not often that I dole out second chances. In fact, it’s quite rare. But I’m willing to give you one more chance because for some reason, I find you completely infuriating and fascinating and a dynamic like that could make for a satisfying partnership. Have you any interest in becoming my sexual submissive?”
She swallows audibly yet holds her head high like she’s still deciding if I terrify her or turn her on. I don’t want her to be afraid of me. I don’t get off on the fear. I want her respect. I want her submission. I want her to give herself, all of herself, to me.
“I need a job.” Her admission comes via gritted teeth and a set jaw.
“Do you understand what you’re agreeing to, Bellamy? You’re not going to be some secretary. You won’t be filing paperwork or returning phone calls.” My hand meets her jaw, running the pads of my fingers along her baby soft skin. “Your official title will be concierge, but your primary duties will be sexual in nature. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be a hybrid employee.”
“Hybrid?”
“I’ll use you professionally…and personally.” My stance widens, as my hand drops down her goose-bumped skin. “And my offer still stands. Twenty grand per month because this position can be intense, demanding.”
Her gaze drops to my feet, and she wears the expression of a woman contemplating the selling price of her soul.
“I’m going to push your limits, Bellamy. I might make you uncomfortable, or I might give you more pleasure than you’ve ever known. That part is up to you.” I reach for her chin, tilting her face up until our eyes meet again. “I’m a complicated man who prefers all other facets of his life to be…uncomplicated. This is my release. You will be my release.”
She pulls in a slow drag of a breath.
“Are you a virgin, Bellamy?”
“That’s a personal question.” Her response comes without pause.
“It’s a relevant question, and your job offer is contingent upon the answer.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
Her arms cross tight along her chest. “No, I’m not a virgin.”
“Well, then, I think you’ll do just fine here. After all, it’s just sex.”
Her face tilts slightly, just enough that the sun peeking in from the clouds outside my window illuminate the delicate angles of her face. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. Obstinate as hell but exquisite in every other way.
I envy the man who enjoyed her first.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll accept the position.”
A slow, half-smile claims my lips. Getting what I want never gets old.
“Would you like a preview?” I propose. “A sample, if you will?”
Her eyes close softly, and she nods. I take her hand, squeezing it securely as it trembles in my palm. I lead her to a closet in the back of my office, pulling the door open to reveal a set of fur-lined cuffs attached to the back of the door. With one hand gripping her wrist, I lift her arm up to the restraint and secure it. As soon as her second hand is restrained, I back away and admire my work.