by Rina Kent
“You mean, dangerous. This is a bad idea for your first large-scale case.”
“You forgot something, Nate. I love bad ideas.”
Like Anastasia.
She’s the worst idea of all, but all I’m thinking about is keeping her coming for more.
11
ANASTASIA
I know I said I’m not the type who gives up, but convincing Knox to change his mind is harder than I thought.
I wish his brain was a computer I could hack into and alter its wires, maybe leave a malware there to pay him back for being an asshole.
Unfortunately, I’m out of my depth and definitely not dealing with a computer. He’s a man, a beautiful jerk at that. A jerk who knows which buttons of mine to push and which will set me on fire.
I’ve never dealt with men before. Yes, I’ve been surrounded by them all my life, but they only ever treated me like a princess. One with no crown and no say in anything.
My interactions with them were few and far between, so I’m absolutely clueless about how to persuade a man—or a woman, to be completely honest.
Sometimes, I feel so helpless that I consider running again, disappearing again to where no one can find me. Especially Knox.
But that would mean I’d have to abandon Sandra and that’s just too similar to abandoning my mother.
I can’t even consider that option, so I have to stay, despite my struggles, despite the constant irritation and strange arousal I feel every time Knox and I speak to each other.
As of now, all I’m able to do is hold on to the perseverance I thought I had tons of.
It was implemented in my upbringing, in the life that was chosen for me.
Turns out, there are limits to that, too, because Knox is a fucking manipulator.
There’s this thing he invented that’s called “convincing sessions.” They all happen in that supply room he caught me in three days ago. They all start with his hand around my throat and end with me on the floor or against the wall as he wrenches violent pleasure out of me.
Then he uses my mouth and marks me with his cum.
“I’m still not convinced. Try harder tomorrow.” Are his words after we finish.
Or more like, he finishes, because I’m a marionette in his hands. A doll he can do whatever he pleases with. I probably should fight harder, push him away, and stop this endless loop.
But what’s the point when I can’t remove him from my head? Not only that, but I’ve also started looking forward to coming to work, to being cornered by him. I’ve even grown fond of that small nook that I was going to use as my hideout for when I do research on the life I left behind. Or when I used the firm’s servers to learn more about what’s going on between its walls.
And maybe, just maybe, that first taste I had a few weeks ago has turned me into an addict. Maybe I’m craving more of it and stupidly telling myself “one more time.”
But he’s keeping me on the edge. He hasn’t fucked me, and I’m sure it’s not because there isn’t a condom.
It’s a game of his, something that he enjoys doing to make me frustrated.
But if he thinks I’ll give him the satisfaction of asking for it, he’ll have to wait a long time. We’ll see who will give in first in this game.
God. This is so different from who I am. What I am. I don’t usually let anyone play with me—not that they ever got close enough to do so. But now, the promise itself makes my skin tingle with something I’ve never been allowed to feel before.
Excitement.
And maybe that’s dangerous. Maybe I should say no. But for the life of me, I can’t.
It’s harmless fun. Just sex.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
I plug in my earbuds and hit Play on my “Oldies” playlist. The sound of the eighties and nineties rock music puts me in a serene mood. I’ve always been a lover of vintage music, even though new technology is my jam. I’m a paradox that way.
I rarely listen to my music when I’m working, but ever since I encountered the hostile situation Chad and Ben have been creating, I’ve become religious about it. Not only do I get to enjoy good music, but I also get to tune them out.
Win-win.
I think they’re mostly jealous and while I don’t pay them much attention, I also don’t stay quiet when they start throwing jabs my way. I might not make eye contact with them, but I won’t allow anyone to treat me as if I’m a pushover.
A finger taps my shoulder while I’m typing away and I pause, thinking it’s one of them coming to start shit.
It’s not.
The girl who’s looking down at me smiles widely and holds out a small basket of baked goods. Her name is Gwyneth—or Gwen, as she asked me to call her.
She’s a pre-law student who’s interning at W&S during the summer and we’re the same age. We met two days ago and I had her help me with a new system I was creating. Ever since then, she’s started coming to the IT department frequently because the other interns are avoiding her.
I didn’t know why at the time, but she told me yesterday that she’s actually Kingsley Shaw’s daughter. As in, the Shaw of Weaver & Shaw, and apparently, that makes everyone wary of her. She’s even interning for Nathaniel himself. I know he doesn’t really take interns, but it makes sense since she’s the daughter of his partner, who can’t monitor his daughter due to being in a coma.
I remove my earbuds and offer her a small smile back.
“I brought you cupcakes.” She pushes the basket at my chest. “I had to save some from Daniel. He’s a cupcake monster.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t make them all the time. I heard everyone wants some now.”
“It’s okay. I like it when I make people happy through cupcakes.” She looks at Chad and Ben. “Not those nerds, though.”
They glare at her and she places a hand on her hip and glares right back. She developed an animosity toward them on my behalf after she heard them call me Plain Jane. She has a weirdly cute sense of justice, which is different from Knox’s warped one.
When I learned her identity and that she’s actually known Knox, Daniel, and the other partners for years, I contemplated asking her to convince Knox about taking the girl’s case. However, that would mean sharing too much information with someone I just met. Besides, I don’t want anyone to know about what Knox and I have.
It’s our dirty little secret.
“Go ahead, try them.” She pulls up a chair and watches me expectantly with eyes so colorful, they look a little freaky. She has rare heterochromia that creates a mash-up of green, blue, and gray in her irises, as if she’s a mythical creature from the folklore tales Babushka used to read to me.
I take a bite from the dainty-looking cupcake. “Vanilla again?”
“Hey! Vanilla is the best flavor.”
“It’s pretty standard.”
“Uh, excuse you. It’s versatile.”
I smile at that as I continue eating.
“What are you smiling at? It really is the best.”
“You’re one of the minority who think that.” She’s also one of the few people who’s willingly gotten close to me, not caring about my appearance or how asocial I actually am.
Gwen snatches one of the cupcakes she brought and starts eating. A strand of her auburn hair falls to her forehead and she unsuccessfully tries to blow it back.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask.
“Nah, I finished reading through the docs Nate gave me. Besides, he has a meeting with the other partners about an important case Knox is taking on, so he can’t give me any new tasks or make my life hell for being half a minute late.”
I lean forward in my seat. “Wait. Did you say an important case?”
“Yeah.” She licks her fingers, then nearly butts her head with mine when she slides her chair closer. “The offender is Matt Bell. You know, that famous producer? His daughter is suing him for sexual assault and demanding compensation, and Knox has accepted the case. Which is wei
rd, because I’m pretty sure I heard Dan say he rejected it. But maybe he saw the case from a different perspective and changed his mind.”
My fingers tighten around the cupcake, and I’d smash it if I weren’t aware that Gwen would kill me for it.
Did she just say Knox accepted the case? The same case he said I needed to convince him to take on?
“This case is getting so much media attention,” Gwen continues. “It’s going to be wild.”
“Really?” I don’t have to ask her what I actually want to know, which is if Knox is up for this. Gwen is talkative by nature and tells me anything with simple nudges.
“Absolutely! But if anyone can do it, it’s Knox. Though everyone is skeptical that he’s taking a civil law case, but it’s probably going to happen at the same time as the criminal one and he’s done that before. Dad watched that one personally and was especially proud of how Knox drove both the prosecutor and the opposing counsel insane. So, I’m totally sure he can nail this as well.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s a strategist, you know.”
“A strategist?”
“Yeah, like at first, it looks as if he’s going to lose, but he’s really plotting several deadly blows. And when he actually delivers them? It’s game over.”
I believe her. I do. As a matter of fact, I think he used that tactic on me.
A fire burns inside me and it takes everything in me to continue listening to Gwen talking about a horror movie she watched last night. It takes everything in me not to unleash that fire on him.
On the man who’s been manipulating me all along.
The asshole.
By the time Gwen leaves, I’m fuming. No, I’m about to let all the destructive energy consume me.
I can’t even concentrate on the system I’ve been carefully building for days. The codes keep blurring in front of my vision no matter how much I take deep breaths and clean my glasses.
My phone vibrates and I retrieve it with a jerk. I know who it is before I even check. The only two people who know this number are the clinic where Babushka stays and the asshole who unapologetically exchanged numbers with me after that first time in the supply room.
Knox: In five minutes, I’m going to fuck you.
I’m so tempted to send him a middle finger emoji, but I think better of it.
I’m going to do it in person.
12
KNOX
There’s been tension in my bloodstream for days. Maybe even weeks.
Since the day I fucked Anastasia and she disappeared on me, leaving only her virgin blood and a black butterfly behind.
Back then, I resisted the urge to find her, because fuck that. I don’t chase girls. They always fall into my lap and bombard my phone with calls.
But during those weeks, I couldn’t touch any of those girls and Dan started sending stupid messages in the group chat we have with our friends in England. Two of whom are Ronan and Aiden, my brothers-in-law.
Daniel: Breaking news from the Empire State. Knox’s dick is broken.
Aiden: Now, this is interesting. Tell us more.
Daniel: He hasn’t shagged for weeks.
Aiden: Bit weird that you even know of his shagging schedule, Sterling, but okay.
Daniel: That’s not the point here, fucker. It’s that he. Hasn’t. Shagged.
Cole: Agreed. Kind of a record for Van Doren.
Ronan: Did someone mention my dear brother-in-law?
Daniel: The one whose dick is broken, yes.
Ronan: I take back the dear part and also the brother-in-law part. I know no one whose dick is broken.
Aiden: Should we start to pretend he doesn’t exist in public, Astor?
Ronan: Eventually.
Cole: What’s the exact story, Dan?
Daniel: Nothing specific, just the fact that he refuses to shag. Real question, should I take him to the doctor? Trick him into it maybe? Because he needs his dick checked.
Aiden: Or you need to be less obsessed with his dick, maybe.
Daniel: You shut up. Any suggestions?
Ronan: Hookers, a solution as old as time and just as efficient. No doctors are needed, Danny boy.
Cole: Does Teal know you’re talking about hookers?
Ronan: For her brother, not me, and fuck you, Cole.
Ronan: Un-fuck you. Don’t bring it up to Teal.
Cole: Screenshot shared as we speak.
Ronan: You fucking bastard…
Daniel: Hey, motherfuckers. This is about Knox and his broken dick.
Aiden: He’s probably fucking someone behind your back.
Daniel: What? Why would he do that?
Aiden: Let me take a wild guess. Your unhealthy obsession with his dick, maybe?
Ronan: Or maybe Knox just lost his balls.
Cole: RIP.
Knox: I’m right fucking here in case you forgot, arseholes.
Aiden: Even fucking better.
Needless to say, it’s become a running joke in that fucking group chat that I’m contemplating muting until someone else becomes the joke. The most likely candidate—Ron.
Point is, this whole mess is because of Anastasia.
Deep in the back of my mind, I recognize that this is headed to the unhealthy obsession level, that I shouldn’t allow myself to be sucked into such a bottomless pit.
Which is why I have to fuck her out of my system, once and for all. That’s the plan, anyway, when I walk into the supply room.
But I’m greeted with light.
There’s never light when I take her against the wall and wrench one orgasm after the other from her. Anastasia hates it, I realize—the light. She’s more comfortable in the darkness, like me, where we can be ourselves without thinking about our identities, where we are, or the consequences.
It’s on now, the supply room’s white neon light, and it highlights the dullness of the space. The unorganized piles of papers lying around that should be in the archives.
It also puts focus on the tiny woman standing in the middle of it all, arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor. A red flush covers her cheeks and her lips are pursed in a stiff line.
I know I should probably focus on her obvious displeasure, but my gaze is stolen by the undone third button of her blouse and the hint of her lace bra and creamy breast. I would’ve never pegged her as the lacy type, but she is and it’s a fucking turn-on.
“Do you have anything to tell me?” she asks in a tone as rigid as her posture.
“I love the view.”
She follows my gaze and bunches her hand in her shirt, then jerkily buttons it. “You’re such a pervert.”
“Let me turn off the lights and I’ll show you how much of a pervert I actually am.”
“Like hell you will.” She stomps toward me, the force in her steps rattling her small body. “Didn’t you say you hate liars?”
“I did.”
“Then why are you one yourself?”
“Me?”
“Oh, don’t give me that tone. Gwen told me you accepted Sandra’s case.”
Gwen. Of course. I should’ve known that she’d tell her the news, given that they’ve grown close ever since King’s daughter started interning for Nate. Not that I’m watching Anastasia all the time.
Fine, so I do watch whenever I have the chance, but it’s only to find out what she’s up to.
Nothing more.
“I thought I needed to convince you,” she continues.
“You do.”
“No, I don’t. You already accepted the case.”
“You need to keep convincing me so I don’t drop it.”
“You can’t do that to her.”
“Believe me, I can.” I won’t, but Anastasia doesn’t need to know that.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Glad we agree. Now, are you done?”
“I’m not done.” She’s glaring, and I can feel the heat of it through her thick glasses. “I don’t like liars e
ither.”
“Even when you’re one yourself?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And what makes you think I don’t?”
“What are they then?”
I reach a hand out and grab her by the throat. I don’t do it suddenly, but she startles, her body going still in my hold, and the anger slowly dissipates from her features. “Continuing to touch you, to make you squirm and have that fuck-me look. Or maybe I just want to play with you, maybe it’s to debauch and fuck you up until I get my fill. Maybe it’s all of the above. Do you have a problem with that?”
She’s silent, her lips parting, and I can’t resist the urge to run my thumb over their fullness, feeling her shudder.
“W-what if I do?”
“What if you what? Have a problem with it or don’t like me touching you?”
“Both?”
“Then I’ll stop.”
Her breath stutters and I smile, tightening my hold on her throat. “For now. But I’ll still come back for more. I’ll still find you in every corner and every fucking nook. I will haunt the fuck out of you, Anastasia, until you have no way out but back to me.”
I feel her melting as she leans closer, her lips pulsing against my fingers. The heat of them alone makes my cock rock-fucking-hard.
An inexplicable need I’ve never felt before thunders and roars inside me with a wrecking force.
The need to slam her against the wall and fuck her.
The need to drive so deep inside her, I won’t know where she ends and I begin.
The need to have her so full of me that she’ll struggle to breathe like that first time.
I don’t have such thoughts about the women I fuck. Not even close. They’re always a means to an end, a way to release the pressure and get it over with. It’s been a chore at times, a fucking instinct like breathing and eating.
It’s different with Anastasia.
Because I know, I just know that if I fuck her again, everything will be blown out of proportion. And not only because I rarely fuck the same woman twice or because she’s turning into an unhealthy obsession.
It’s all of that and more.