As much as she’d once loved watching those romance movies depicting the billionaire businessmen getting the girl of his dreams, she hated the clichés of said girl being downtrodden or in need of a rescuer. Wynter certainly wasn’t in need of anything or anyone, least of all some secretive club owner who had sent his henchman down to fetch him a companion for the evening.
The bouncer reached out and grabbed her hand in a bid to stop her and Wynter turned and glared at him. “Take your hands off me,” she demanded and he immediately let go.
“Sorry, I just wanted to offer you another option. There’s a potential alternative to you finding another housemate. Do you have a job, Wynter?” the man asked and she nodded. “Full time?” she nodded again.
“Nine-to-five. What’s your point?”
“And would you consider working evenings?”
Wynter rolled her eyes.
“What, behind your boss’s bar?” she answered with a snide edge to her tone. If she was honest, it was the best offer she’d had all night and knew a second income would solve all her problems, but she still stopped herself from taking back what she’d said. Her ego simply couldn’t allow that.
The guy gave her a second, smiled in a gentle way that told Wynter he knew exactly what was going through her mind, and then stepped forward. She watched him twitch his neck and knew that the voice in his ear was making more demands, so figured it wouldn’t hurt to hear them out.
“You could take a job behind the bar for barely more than minimum wage,” he told her, “where you’d be ogled at all night and rushed off your feet, but at least you’d get to keep coming to your favourite club…”
“Or?” she replied. His eyes flashed as if to say ‘clever girl’ and she knew she was right. There was a better offer on the table. She just needed to hear it.
“Or you could be behind the scenes doing a real job. Some proper work that you’d be paid handsomely for. Care to know more?”
It was a strange question, or so Wynter thought. Of course she wanted to know more, and she nodded, but then stopped him before he went to deliver the rest of his boss’s proposal.
“But I’m not a whore, nor will I strip or anything,” she said with a frown, making him laugh.
“I can assure you, we already have plenty of those kinds of employees,” he replied with a wry smile, “what you’d be doing is more up your street. Mr Cole requires someone with a keen interest and skills in graphic design to completely revamp both his portfolio and his behind-the-scenes profile. The club is open to the public each weekend, as you know, but during the week he caters for a variety of other clients with any number of necessities. He has secret online message boards and members only sites that need a consistent eye for detail and continual moderation. Mr Cole has looked you up, Wynter, and he likes what he’s found. He wants the right person in the entirely new role and is willing to offer you the chance to take it. Not only can you make it all your own, but also move up into a job that’ll far surpass the benefits of your current role.”
It sounded good, but Wynter knew there had to be a catch. People like her weren’t just handed jobs like this on a plate. There wasn’t a time when she’d not been overlooked or pushed aside so that one of the big boys could move up, even though she’d worked her socks off for her current employer. He only ever seemed to want her to remain where she was.
“I find it hard to believe your boss is so ready to offer me the chance to singlehandedly run his online empire when he hasn’t even met me,” she countered, thinking the entire proposal seemed too good to be true, so it more than likely was.
“Come back here tomorrow afternoon for a formal interview then,” he responded, and the expression on his face was one of complete and open calmness. “You can see the offer in black and white and make an informed decision.”
She believed him.
Wynter thought about it for a moment and figured she had to at least give the idea a proper think and maybe see what the boss had to say during her interview. She was being petulant in remaining frosty to the very insinuation that someone in high places might’ve noticed her, and had to hope it wasn’t purely because this Mr Cole wanted to get in her knickers.
“Sure, I’ll come back tomorrow. What time?”
“Noon.”
“I’ll be here,” she replied before sauntering away without looking back, and then heading straight home.
And of course she had gone the next day. She’d accepted the job, much to Marcus’s satisfaction.
Fourteen
Marcus listened in on Wynter and David’s conversation via his hidden cameras and smiled to himself. His minion was doing well in steering Wynter in the right direction. Not like that impossible lot down in IT. Marcus guessed that was what he got for employing true intellectuals. They were incredibly good at what they did and had maintained his epic database without incident, but at the same time their higher brain function seemed to have a negative effect on the hex his Priestess had created. They were capable of fighting back, albeit only to a small extent, but their influence on Wynter had shown over the past few days.
David on the other hand, he was a true airless wonder and Marcus liked having him as his puppet. The boy was drawing Wynter in and helping to sway her. Coaxing her further into her curse to ensure she caved.
She was breaking down. His plan was working and she was losing in their game. She didn’t know which way was up, but she was starting to see the true north. The direction her inner compass should always point her to—him.
There were forces against her she couldn’t fathom, but Marcus had and would continue to use every one of them to his advantage. Like down in the nightclub just minutes earlier. His Priestess had worked her magic on the crowd at his request. She had made them close in on Wynter and saw to it she was panicked and desperate, and ready to be saved. Marcus could’ve ended her suffering any time he’d wanted, but it had been fun to see her suffer. To sense her despair. It’d even been amusing to toy with her in the aftermath. And what fun to discover just how desperately she had craved that gentler touch. To see him as her saviour because it was no doubt easier to let herself fall for the man she hoped he might somehow be underneath it all, rather than the monster it was clear he truly was.
***
Wynter finished her night’s work in the quiet solitude of her office. She’d had enough of being around people in general and just wanted to be alone, so when two-am came she waited a short while before leaving. She gave it a bit longer in the hope that most of the others would have gone, and was rewarded with a quiet and almost empty office when she finally emerged, locked up, and made for the exit. There was still the security staff there and some cleaners had gotten to work, but overall it was still. Almost peaceful.
She headed home and fell into bed with a heavy pit still welling in her stomach. Nothing felt right, but then again, it somehow didn’t feel wrong either. She was being pulled in two incredibly different directions. All she had to do now was decide which side made the most sense.
The phone by her bedside woke her far too early the next morning and Wynter answered it with a groan.
“What?” she demanded, and was rewarded with the throaty laugh of her best friend Cossette.
“Where have you been and what the hell are you doing? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages and of course I need all the gossip on the new job. But also, I needed you and couldn’t get hold of you. Simon’s been a right dickhead all week and I need to offload!”
This was typical Cossette. She’d left Wynter in the lurch by moving out to live with her fiancé, and ever since then she’d not stopped whingeing about the poor guy. Wynter hadn’t heard the end of it, and had always half-heartedly listened, but not now. She needed to talk to someone herself and tried to find the words to tell Cossette how shit she was feeling, but it was like she’d forgotten how to open up. She didn’t even know where to begin and instead let out a sigh and pretended, like always, that everything was fine.
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“Are they asking about me at work? Did they receive my letter of resignation?” Wynter replied, and knew by the loud laugh she got that her old bosses had indeed been made aware of her change in circumstance.
“It’s all anyone can talk about. Some are speculating you were wooed by a tall, dark and handsome stranger and ran off with him. But I set them straight,” Cossette clucked, “told them you got a better offer in a multinational company and took it.”
“Good, thanks,” she replied, and then tried again to open up a little. “The hours are hell, but I think it’s worth it. I’m still figuring out my place there…”
“What’s that mean? Is it too hard? I had the same at my old job, do you remember? That boss of mine tried to shag me and when I refused him he made my life hell.” There she went again, making it all about her. Wynter wanted to scream down the phone. To beg her friend to help her, but she was still harping on about herself.
“It’s just really draining,” Wynter eventually answered, and then figured she’d try and tell Cossette a little more about the ins and outs of the new job. Like she’d realised, there had been no non-disclosure agreement signed so figured why not. She opened her mouth to say more. To tell her best friend how she’d spent her weekend being sucked dry by her vampire boss. But, she couldn’t utter a word. No matter how she tried, Wynter was incapable of forming any sound at all while that was what she wanted to tell her. Damn that curse, she thought, both impressed and astonished by the intricate nature of it.
“Well, you just rest up, okay? Take it easy and get some more sleep. I’ll try and remember not to call until the afternoon,” Cossette replied, and Wynter promised she’d do just that.
They then ended the call and she snuggled back into her pillows, eager to get some more sleep before it was time to start all over again at Slave, thinking again what a marvellous name Marcus had chosen for his club.
The next few nights went by in a blur. Wynter was kept super busy with what felt like a hundred requests for assistance from the different departments, plus her input via emails that’d come from all over the building, as well as from Marcus himself, even though he didn’t put in much of an appearance in the flesh. All of their correspondence was done via email, and she quickly became comfortable liaising with him online thanks to the lack of pretence and any form of strange ups and downs like she often found when dealing with him in the flesh. He was to the point and precise with what he wanted when over electronic mail. All business, which suited Wynter perfectly.
When Thursday night came around, she still hadn’t confirmed with him whether or not she was willing to take on the extra day of overtime, and yet Marcus hadn’t asked her again either. Did he just assume the matter was settled and she’d be there? Wynter hoped not. She had no intention of staying whether he asked politely or downright demanded it. And still, she found herself turning up on Thursday evening with some spare clothes in a suit bag over her arm.
Wynter told herself it was all just part of her plan to keep a change of outfit at the office in case she spilled a drink or required a new set of clothes sometime. Of course it had nothing to do with Marcus and his proposal that she remain at the club for the next three nights’ straight. No sir.
Halfway through her shift, she got a call from Bryn and immediately plucked the receiver from its cradle, placing it to her ear.
“Hey, Bryn. Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you, Miss Armstrong,” he replied, regarding her formally no matter how many times she’d asked him to call her Wynter. “Mr Cole has dictated a few paragraphs for you to put on the website. He has asked me to send it directly for your attention to type. Are you happy for me to bring the Dictaphone down?”
Wynter rolled her eyes. Oh, so now she was his secretary too? He had some nerve.
“Sure, why the hell not?” she replied, figuring it wasn’t fair for her to rant at Bryn about their boss’s gall.
He ended the call and was at her office within a couple of minutes, the electronic recorder in his hands at the ready.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, “but when he gives me specific instructions, I have to follow them. And he said you alone were allowed to hear what’s on this tape.”
Wynter actually felt sorry for Bryn. She wondered how long he had endured working directly for Marcus and just what he’d had to do in that time. In some ways, his role could possibly be deemed worse than hers. At least she got some respite from their boss, whereas Bryn was with him every night of the week without fail. It couldn’t be easy.
“No problem,” she told him, and Wynter also placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m on it.”
She then locked herself back inside and took her seat, all the while glaring at the recorder on the desk. She wasn’t going to rush listening to it. Marcus could wait. And yet, it was all she could think about. Wynter had to know what was on it and why, and soon found she couldn’t focus on her other tasks so knew she’d just get it over and done with.
With a huff, she hit the play button and opened up a blank document on her screen, her hands poised over the keys at the ready.
“Good evening, Wynter,” Marcus’s deep and warming voice began to chime from the machine beside her, and she felt her body break out in goose bumps at the sound. She had barely heard his voice in days, and suddenly realised she’d missed it.
No, she scorned herself internally. You didn’t miss him. You don’t even like him. Fight, Wynter. Always fight.
“I would appreciate you adding an update to the members’ only part of the website,” he began, and remained ever so formal throughout. “As follows: Thank you for your recent feedback. To all members who have expressed an interest in my providing new premises within the UK, please rest assured I have taken your requests under advisement and have set up a series of meetings to that effect. I shall update in due course, but do trust these changes are afoot and will come with exciting new elements to the regime.”
Wynter typed as he spoke, before adding the update to a small text box she’d opened up on the site. Nice and easy. A two-minute job.
She began to wonder why Marcus had sent the machine down rather than email the information to her, and was about to turn it off when she heard him begin to speak again. “There’s more, but this is just between you and I,” his deep voice told her. With a frown, Wynter turned away from the computer and focused on the Dictaphone, her hands flying to her mouth so she could chew on her fingernails anxiously. “You never answered me before when I requested your assistance on Friday’s in Patrick’s place. I have therefore taken the liberty of making arrangements for us regardless. I want to feed, of course, but I would like to give you the chance to earn a reward from me. To get your bonus, I first have a task for you…” he paused and Wynter leaned in closer, as if she might have missed it. He let out a small sound, almost like a shy laugh, and then continued, his voice sending another wave of goose bumps across her skin. “It would bring me great pleasure to watch someone fuck you,” his recording continued, and the way he’d said fuck made every nerve ending in her body tingle.
Wynter went cold and then hot, and an ache she knew all too well sprung to life in her belly. Damn, Marcus had a way with his words.
He’d both shocked and aroused her, and while the stubbornness in her made Wynter still want to refuse him, she couldn’t deny he was getting under her skin. Making her want what he wanted, and need what he needed. “Male or female, it’s your choice, but I want you naked and screaming with pleasure while I feed from you. I’ll gather my chosen suitors. All you have to do is give me a name and I’ll make it happen. If you’re in my office when the clock turns two-oh-one tomorrow morning, I’ll accept that as a your way of telling me yes.”
***
Marcus called a heads of department meeting at one-am. Each one of his most loyal subjects was issued a demand that they attend, and he used every bit of power he had over them to ensure they obeyed. Marcus never usually cal
led a meeting so late, but he had something he needed to obtain. Not just Wynter’s body at his command and her blood coursing through his own veins, but also her compliance. For her to experience at last the loss of a fight and for the realisation to strike that she would not win against him again.
It was going to be marvellous.
Jack and Patrick were the first to arrive. Ever the leaders of his merry little clan, they took their seats at the large meeting table and looked straight to him rather than sit chatting or fiddling with the paperwork before them. There was nothing for them to talk of anyway. No life outside of his club or their duty to Marcus himself. They were both just half a man each. Nought but a single whole between the pair of them.
Jack was pining for his Priestess. He missed her already and was yearning so strongly for something it made the air around him palpable. Perhaps to know whether their exploits together had done the trick? To discover whether we was indeed about to become a father to a child he would never know. Yes, that was it. Marcus inhaled the scent deeply and licked his lips. He liked Jack so desolate and decided to play with his loyal servant some more. To give and take from him over and over for the fun of it, because he could. And gladly would.
Patrick was just as pathetic. A hopeless mess now that his services as Marcus’s blood slave had come to an end. He hated not being used and missed that high already, but Marcus had bigger plans that no longer involved Patrick or his blood that had been soiled by the cancer running through his veins. Plans for a different future. Ones that involved someone knew at the helm.
As if on cue, Wynter then arrived and she went to sit beside Jack, but Marcus shook his head and patted the seat to his right. She didn’t want to obey his beckoning, he could tell. She hesitated and frowned like she was attempting to come up with a reason for her taking one of the other seats, but it was no use. Marcus pulled her to him by force and Wynter let out an angry sigh as she flung herself into the chair.
The Beginning Page 13