by Shandi Boyes
“Even if I am a part of the BDSM community, Delilah, that does not give you just cause to persecute me. I am well within my rights as a citizen of our great country to participate in any activities I see fit to live a personally fulfilling life.”
“You want a quote from your contact?!” Delilah asks, shouting so loud she startles Debbie, who is entering the office. “How about this one? Good sense dictates that you're to steer clear of any groups or activities that will portray Global Ten Media in a compromising role.”
She sullenly rakes her eyes down my body, her gaze more derogatory than any I received while on assignment at Chains BDSM Club. It makes my skin crawl and my heart rate quicken.
"Falling to your knees and begging to be beaten certainly detracts from the professional façade you agreed to present by signing your employment contract with Global Ten."
“Professionalism isn’t a look, Delilah, it's tact. Something you clearly lack.”
Ignoring Debbie’s slack-jawed expression, I pivot on my heels and head for the door. For the first time in years, my brain and heart reach an amicable decision. Even battling a war worthy of the history books can’t hide the facts. Defending your integrity to a woman who has none is a pointless endeavor. Narcissists don’t possess morals.
Just before I exit Delilah’s office, I warn, “You have until 4 PM to correct the oversight in my employee contract. If Global Ten Media fails to fulfill the agreement cited in my contract, I will seek the aid of an attorney.”
Always wanting the last word, Delilah shouts, “When you're there, have him clarify the legal ramifications for a breach in an employee contract. Particularly how the inability to pay the daily fines sanctioned by the court will result in your remand.”
I sling my neck back and glare straight into her eyes. “Tell me one court that will accept misguided intuition as burden of proof?”
“Tell me one BDSM club owner who can afford to go against a multi-billion-dollar company to keep your sorry ass out of jail?” Delilah counters, sadistically. “He must be the most asinine man in the world if he believes you’re worth risking everything for. You're no more valuable than a two-dollar hooker.”
Although her snarky comment stings my ego, I push on. “Maybe he is foolish enough to believe I am worth the sacrifice. But there is always going to be another man more foolish than him.”
A large crease ruins Delilah’s Botox-primed forehead as confusion clouds her nearly black eyes.
“The man who agreed to marry you. There will never be a bigger fool than him,” I explain to her puzzled expression.
Delilah’s pupils widen, but she fails to issue me a reply. A victorious smirk attempts to etch on my mouth, but I shut it down. Now is not the time to gloat. Although I am confident Delilah doesn’t have a leg to stand on, I know from experience she isn’t a woman to be underestimated. Just when you think you're out of the firing zone, she produces her final ammunition. It's usually the most lethal of them all.
“If I had discussed or tampered with imperative information on our investigation into Chains with anyone outside of these walls, you’d be well within your rights to cite a breach in my contract. But since nothing like that has occurred, I have no reason to fear prosecution.” I inwardly sigh, grateful the hammering of my heart didn’t echo in my voice.
Delilah’s face turns a vibrant shade of red. I have no doubt anger is blackening her veins, but it doesn’t hinder my campaign in the slightest.
“If anyone should be concerned about being witch-hunted by Global Ten Media, it should be you, Delilah, not me. Your name is scribbled alongside mine on every contract I signed. And you can trust me when I say, Global Ten Media’s head-chopping starts at the very top rung if they believe their strict policies are not being governed correctly.”
“If you think I’ll be snared by your idiocy, you have another thing coming,” Delilah snarls, her words spitting out of her mouth like venom. “You may have won Mr. Carson over with your poor taste and woeful ‘feel sorry for me’ storyline, but even he won’t put up with such treachery to the company he built from the ground up.”
“Just like he won’t sit to the side and watch you disgrace the integrity his company’s foundation was built on,” I fire back.
With that, I exit her office, stealing her chance to reply.
21
After pulling Jackson’s truck to the curb of my house, I take a few moments to settle my nerves. Even spending two hours in rush hour traffic hasn’t soothed the worry prickling my spine. I’ve read my employment contract with Global Ten Media numerous times the past three months, so I am confident in saying they have no case against me. But that isn’t the cause of my concern. It was what Delilah said about Marcus going up against a billion-dollar company.
Although my relationship with Marcus doesn’t put me in breach of my contract, would a jury of my peers see it that way? It's fine to believe honesty always prevails, but when you’re in a world where people see lies as rungs on the corporate ladder to success, I must remain vigilant. If I don’t keep my I’s dotted and my T’s crossed, I may unwillingly commit financial suicide. Not just to myself, but Marcus as well.
There is no doubt Marcus is protective of me. The fact he put himself in the line of fire twice in under thirty minutes last night guarantees I’m not mistaken, but that's where my concerns lie. How far would Marcus go to protect me? Would he lose everything he has just to keep me safe? Considering he put his own safety on the line to protect me, the only answer jumping out at me is a resounding yes.
Shutting down Jackson's engine, I exit his truck and trudge up the cracked sidewalk of my house. My pace is slow, weighed down by the uncertainty sitting on my shoulders. I am genuinely at a loss on how to deal with this situation. The simple answer is to walk away from Marcus and pray Delilah never discovers his identity, but that's easier said than done. Just the thought of never seeing Marcus again gnaws at my insides. I also don't see Marcus being a man who will walk away without putting up a fight. The past nine weeks he has expressed his desires for me with confidence many men lack, and I don't see that suddenly going away because I decided to pull the pin on our relationship.
The hum of chatter filters into my ears as I climb the stairs of my front porch. It's an unusual thing to hear. For years, it has only been Lexi and me. Now it feels like we are surrounded by people. Some new. Others old.
The sound of my front door creaking open plunges my house into resolute silence. Not even the sound of a pin dropping can be heard. The quiet amplifies my body’s primitive awareness of Marcus. My scalp prickles, and my breathing pans out.
After placing Jackson’s keys onto the entranceway table, I stray my eyes to Marcus. They don’t need to skim the room to locate him. My body’s intuition is the only guide I need to spot him standing at the side of the foyer, silhouetted by the dim lighting of my living room.
Frozen in place, his eyes study every inch of my body, from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. His gaze is so powerful, blood rushes to the surface of my skin, making me needy and hot. Once his avid assessment of my body is finalized, his attention turns to my face.
“Cleo.”
I don’t know why, but his greeting sounds more like a scold than a welcome. He shoves his cellphone into his pocket and heads straight for me.
“Where have you been? You scared us half to death.” His tone is a rare mix of bossy and relieved. “You left your cell on the entranceway table. We had no way of contacting you.”
"It's broken," I inform him, gesturing my hand to my broken phone.
The scent of freshly laundered clothes loiters in my nose when he draws me into his firm, hard chest. After squeezing the living daylights out of me like he is afraid I am about to vanish, he pulls back and peers into my eyes. The air is drawn from my lungs from the sheer closeness of his handsome face. My god, he is a gorgeous man: plump, decadent lips; perfect facial features; and eyes that set my soul on fire with one passing glance.
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Angling his head to the side, Marcus arches his dark brow, expressing that he didn’t miss my lust-riddled stare at his gorgeous face. Although he is amused at my inability to rein in my desires around him, his gaze is dominating and strong, the type that would have grown men shaking in their boots. But instead of cowering in fear, my body thrums in anticipation.
It’s amazing—and slightly intimidating—how Marcus can change my moods so quickly. In less than three heartbeats, I’ve gone from dreading my future to feeling like I have the entire world at my feet—like nothing can drag me down. How can a man I’m only just unraveling make me so absentminded? I’m not being facetious when I say nothing is on my mind when I am with Marcus. I am completely mindless. No man has ever had that type of power over me. Only Marcus can make me forget the heavy burden I’ve been carrying on my shoulders the past four years. Only he can award me with so much courage it makes what I am about to do ten times easier.
Balancing on my tippy toes, I seal my mouth over Marcus’s decadent lips. A throaty growl rumbles up his chest from my brazenness. He freezes for a second when I nip at his lips, but his naturally engrained dominance soon becomes too great for him to ignore. My knees curve inwards when his tongue slides into my mouth in a long, controlled lick.
Although he dominates the pace of our embrace, I kiss him with all my might, pretending it's my last chance to kiss him, because it very may well be when I tell him we need to cool our relationship until Global Ten’s investigation into Chains is over. My kiss expresses everything I wish I could freely tell him, but will most likely never work up the courage to say out loud. I express my fears, desires, and my hope that I could snap my fingers and make the Wicked Witch of the West fly out of town on her evil broom.
Cupping my thighs, Marcus guides my legs around his waist before slipping his hand under the hem of my shirt. I moan, adoring the roughness of his callused fingers scraping across the skin on my back. Each soft stroke of his fingertips firms my excitement more and more.
Stepping forward, Marcus plasters my back on my front door before rolling his hips upwards. A needy moan ripples through my lips when the thickness of his rod runs the seam of my jeans. I grind against him, the desires of my body overtaking the concerns meddling my mind. For just a moment, I forget the world closing in on us and wholly focus on the man who steals the air from my lungs with nothing more than a whisper of my name.
The longer our kiss progresses, the hazier my memories become about why I kissed him to begin with. I wasn’t being figurative when I said Marcus makes me forget everything and everyone surrounding us when we are together. I am completely mindless.
Way before I’ve had my fill, Marcus pulls his scrumptious mouth away from our embrace. While glancing into my eyes, he runs his finger under my bottom lip, clearing away evidence of our lust-driven kiss while checking no irritation was caused to the cut in my mouth. It's the simplest gesture, but it has the biggest impact to my already faltering heart.
I bite on the inside of my cheek, trying to hide the conflicting array of emotions slamming into me before swiveling my hips, soundlessly requesting to be placed down. My efforts are utterly woeful. The instant the first snippet of anxiety passes through my eyes, Marcus spots it. He firms his grip on my thighs, denying my pleas to be put down.
As his brows inch together, his eyes frolic between mine. “Don’t let them win, Cleo. You're stronger than you realize.”
God—how can he read me so easily?
The reasoning behind Marcus’s sudden withdrawal becomes apparent when a voice I immediately recognize hackles, “I take it from your in-depth search, Cleo is uninjured?”
Peering past Marcus's shoulder, I spot Lexi standing at the end of the foyer. She has her shoulder propped against the wall separating the entranceway from the living room. Her manicured brows are waggling, and a massive grin is etched on her adorable face. Embarrassment at being caught grinding up against Marcus like an immature, horny teen doesn't register with my system. I'm too grateful at her healthy-looking appearance to feel anything but glee. The pain her eyes held during her coughing attack has been replaced with her usual impish gleam, and her breathing appears to be within a safe range.
The chances of her good health remaining intact sail out the window when she locks her eyes with Marcus and says, “You had Cleo nearly crumbling in ecstasy by doing nothing but a measly grind up. You are either a Master, or my sister needs to get out more.”
My evil death stare glaring at Lexi ends when Marcus throws his head back and laughs. Just like every time I’ve heard his scrumptious chuckle, it sends my libido haywire. It's husky and deep, a seductive serenade to my throbbing core. His laughter steals my inhibitions even more quickly than his heart-stuttering kisses.
Once his laughter settles down, Marcus's eyes meet mine. The hankering in his heavy-hooded gaze cannot be missed. He glances into my eyes, coercing me into an intangible trap without a word spilling from his lips. I return his devoted stare, my gaze selfish like I've been deprived of peering into his alluring eyes for months.
“I’ve never been into exhibitionism, but if you keep looking at me like that, Cleo, I may reconsider,” Marcus quotes, pushing my libido into unquenchable territory.
I’m not going to lie; I swoon a little from his reply. Not just because I love how easily he can read me, but because I love the way he takes control in the bedroom. I’ve never been with a man who ensures my every whim is taken care of before his own needs are fulfilled. It's a nice change, one that until two hours ago, I never planned to give up.
I swivel my hips, renewing my pledge to be set down. After tugging my bottom lip away from my menacing teeth, Marcus places me back on my feet. Shockwaves of disappointment pump through me, making it hard for me to breathe. Marcus groans from the loss of my contact as I pace to the coatrack to remove my jacket. Although the air is a little nippy, the nerves making my stomach a horrid mess mean I can forgo a winter coat.
My clammy skin gets extra muggy when I notice two suitcases packed at the side of the living room. One is the suitcase I used when visiting Marcus on Friday, and the other one is from a collection of bags Lexi purchased on sale last year. Although she didn't have a destination in mind, she thought buying luggage was the first step in commencing a love affair with travel. Always eager for her to live her life to the fullest, I encouraged her to spend her hard-earn money on the paisley printed suitcases.
I shift on my feet to face Lexi. “Are you going somewhere?”
Her eyes flick to Marcus for the quickest second before she drifts them back to me. “No.” She shakes her head gently. “Jackson has the rest of the week off, but we’re just going to hang around here and bask in the silence.”
Heavy grooves line my forehead. “Silence?” I mimic, suspicion laced in my tone. “Since when have you enjoyed silence?”
My eyes rocket to Marcus when he explains, “You're coming with me to Ravenshoe, Cleo.”
“Ah. . . no, I’m not,” I fire back, my reply mimicking the one I gave him Thanksgiving night when he demanded my attendance at his residence in New York.
Marcus drops his eyes to an expensive-looking watch on his wrist. “Our plane leaves in an hour, so if you want to check Lexi didn’t miss any necessities while packing your bags, do it now before you run out of time,” he informs me, acting like he didn’t hear a thing I said.
I stand still for a beat, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It's only when my spent brain processes the entirety of Marcus’s statement does my frozen stance thaw. I shift my eyes to my sister, glaring at her with so much anger, steam billows from my ears. I am furious she has once again meddled in my private affairs.
“Don’t you dare,” Lexi mutters, her tone quivering with unbridled anger. “You’ve been interfering in my life since I took my first breath!”
I balk, but I come up a little stumped on a reply. I can’t deny the truth.
“Ensuring your baby sister lives a f
ulfilling life isn’t meddling, Lexi,” I retaliate, my words not coming out as strong as I hoped. “It means I care for you.” She attempts to interrupt me, but I keep talking, denying her the chance. “Tell me one time I packed your bags and forced you out of our house against your wishes. If you can, I’ll go to Ravens-whatever with Marcus.”
I hear Marcus snickering at my reply, but I keep my focus on Lexi, knowing all too well I have her over a barrel. Although my heart is beating triple time at the idea of going away with Marcus, my head has emerged far enough out of his lust haze to know this isn’t a good idea. Furthermore, I may have been a little underhanded in my sister-meddling the past four years, but it’s never gone to the extremes Lexi is taking it to. This is the second time in a week she has interfered in my private life.
Lexi stares straight into my eyes, her composure unwavering. The confidence beaming from her narrowed gaze sets my nerves on edge. I angle my head to the side and arch a brow, gauging the gleam glowing from her eyes.
Just as recognition dawns, Lexi sneers, “June 2015.”
“That was summer camp!”
“So,” Lexi responds, her right shoulder lifting into a shrug. “I didn’t want to go, but someone told me senior camp was a rite of passage into adulthood, and that no teen could forgo the sanction of summer camp.” She glares into my eyes, her face mocking.
I huff dramatically. “It was summer camp,” I retort again, yelling. “That doesn’t count.”
“Yeah, it does,” Lexi argues while nodding. “You forced me to go to Bumhicksville. Now I’m doing the same thing to you.”
I drift my eyes to Marcus, hoping he will back me up. He doesn't. He just smirks, happy to let his little minion do all the heavy lifting in his campaign of forcing me into submission. But he doesn't understand the consequences this could cause him. By associating with me, the chances of his secret being revealed is significantly increased. Thus, not only risking his reputation, but also his illustrious bank balance.