Adored: A Masters and Mercenaries Novella (1001 Dark Nights)

by Lexi Blake

  “Mitch, will you listen to yourself? This is ridiculous. She wants you. She’s made that plain.”

  “She’s a little girl with daddy issues.”

  A sharp gasp had him turning around pronto. Shit. Why hadn’t he closed the door? Laurel Daley stood there, a clipboard in her hand and her face about three shades paler than normal. “Kai, I’m going to have to call you back.”

  “She’s listening, isn’t she?” Kai sounded almost excited at the prospect. “I can be there in twenty minutes for a session if you like. I think if we all sit down, we can find a middle ground…”

  He hung up. Kai could go on and on about therapy, and Mitch wasn’t interested. He set the phone down. “You could knock, you know.”

  Yes, arrogance worked in situations like this. No wonder his wives always left him.

  Laurel’s jaw tightened. “Sharon was at lunch so I was watching the front desk. You have a walk-in. Do you want me to tell him to go away? He claims it’s urgent.”

  Urgent was way better than dealing with her wounded eyes. “What’s his name? Or rather company name?”

  He was an expert at corporate law. He’d specialized this time around, taking on no partners who could potentially fuck his wife and then take his business over. He was a high-priced consultant. His only real courtroom work anymore was when his friends needed him. He’d recently dealt with a tenancy issue for Sean Taggart’s restaurant, Top, and managed to get Case Taggart’s speeding tickets taken care of. Dude needed less road rage. So he didn’t get a whole ton of walk-in clients. It was usually Big Tag trying to get him to sue someone who had pissed him off. He only tried the lawsuits because his wife, Charlotte, had forbidden assassinations.

  Yep, this was his world. He wasn’t sure sweet Laurel Daley fit into it. No. That wasn’t right. He didn’t want Laurel in it. She should be married with a few babies, depending on a husband who loved her and only her and had never made the kinds of mistakes Mitch had made.

  “He’s with a firm called Dixon Technologies.”

  It didn’t ring a bell, but he often dealt with tech firms. They constantly had intellectual property issues. “Send him in.”

  “All right. I’ll try to put aside my daddy issues long enough to go out there and give him directions to your office.”

  When she turned that smart mouth on him his cock pulsed, but then it pretty much did that whenever she walked into a room. He was thirty-eight. She wasn’t even thirty. Why couldn’t his dick pick a more appropriate focus?

  Because I want that one. God, just fucking look at her, man. Look at those breasts. Firm. Round. So sweet. And that bratty mouth. Come on, hands. Aren’t you itching to smack that pretty ass?

  “Laurel.” He put a little bite to his tone.

  She turned immediately and her eyes slid to the floor before coming back up. She steeled herself as though she needed to remember not to defer to him. Yeah, his dick liked that, too. He’d realized his mistake about five minutes after she walked through his door. Laurel was a natural submissive. She deferred to those around her, sometimes to the point of burying her own needs. It was exactly the kind of thing a well-meaning Dominant partner could help her with. A Dom with good intentions, who loved and cared for her, would protect her and teach her how valuable she was.

  “What?” Her chin came up and a stubborn glint hit her eyes.

  He knew her well enough at this point to know this was Laurel trying to shove her emotions deep. He’d said something that hurt her. He should gather her up and put her in his lap and stroke her hair while he apologized. Unfortunately, that would lead to fucking her on his desk, so he settled for words. “I don’t suppose you heard the part of the conversation where I talked about how I wanted you to be happy?”

  She was obviously unmoved. “Nope and I know you have a very creative mind so I’ll suspend my disbelief.” She stopped and her mouth softened slightly. “I take it you found out about me joining the trainee program at Sanctum.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think it’s professional for the two of us to be at the same club together. I count on that club, Laurel. The few friends I have in life are there.”

  “All right. I’ll let them know I won’t be coming anymore.” She took a deep breath and there was a hollowness to her expression he despised. It was only there for a moment and then her face was a polite blank. “Do you need anything? Coffee? You skipped lunch. I could get you a sandwich.”

  “Just like that? You’ll leave it like that? I expected more of a fight out of you.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t join to cause you harm or to take something away from you. I joined because I wanted to explore that side of myself. Since you’ve made it plain that my presence takes away from your enjoyment of something you need, I’ll leave.”

  How did she do this to him? She’d had him in knots since the moment he’d met her. “Could you give me a couple of minutes to catch up? I didn’t even know you were interested in the lifestyle.”

  Now her inner brat made an appearance, those pretty blue eyes rolling. “Of course you did, Mitchell. That’s a complete cop out and unworthy of you, counselor. If you’re going to defend yourself at least do it properly. You’ve known I was interested in D/s since the moment you hired me.”

  He had. He’d found books by Sanctum’s resident authors, Amber Rose and Dakota Cheyenne. Silly pen names for Serena Dean-Miles and Laurel’s sister-in-law, Bridget Daley. Bridget was the one who had sparked Laurel’s interest, though he’d rather thought it had all been a means to an end. “I thought it was really me you were interested in.”

  She stepped back in his office. The whole place had been redecorated. It had been a dull beige with brown carpets and fixtures from the seventies when he’d bought it and he’d done nothing to update until Laurel had taken the project over. Now the whole office was modernized, with the exception of his desk. Laurel had tried to get rid of it, but he’d put his foot down. His crappy old chair had been replaced with something ergonomic. A week in he’d noticed his shoulder didn’t hurt anymore after a long day. He’d also noticed how the brighter colors had livened up the place, given it an elegance and grace that matched the woman who had overseen its design.

  “You’ve made it very clear that you’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with me, Mitch. You made it clear that night. I’ve stayed away since then.”

  The night he’d gotten slightly drunk in Hawaii and kissed her. It had been her brother’s impromptu wedding that had done it. He’d been Will Daley’s best man and watched as his friend married the woman of his dreams. Sure Will had some surly, mouthy and bratty dreams, but Bridget was also creative and funny and kind.

  A lot like Laurel.

  Watching Will get married made him wonder what it would have been like if he’d met Laurel before. Before his divorces. Before life had ground him down. When she’d joined him on the beach, he hadn’t been able to resist pulling her into his arms and finally tasting her mouth. He could still feel how soft she was, how her body had fit perfectly against his. And he could still see how hurt she’d been when he’d pushed her away.

  “That night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  Her eyes slid away from his. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”

  “So why join my club?”

  “Because it’s the only one I’m allowed to join. I tried to find another one. My brother took exception.”

  Mitch felt his stomach drop. “You went to another club?”

  She shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t like me going to Sanctum. Honestly, I thought it was weird going to a club with my brother, too. So I found another one out in the suburbs. Horrible, actually. Anyway, I went twice and Will found out and he showed up and hauled me out. It was horrifically embarrassing. I spent some time on a website, but nothing panned out. Bridget invited me to Sanctum and then I think with all the babies they needed subs who were willing to work the daycare, so I signed on.
I might still offer to work with the babies. I’ve grown quite fond of them.”

  He was stuck on the fact that not only had she gone to some club he knew nothing about, but she’d spent time on the Internet. “What did you do, Laurel? Did you upload a profile at FetLife? Maybe advertise on Craig’s List for a Dom? Do you want someone to murder you? Because that’s pretty much what you’re asking for.”

  Her jaw firmed, eyes flashing, and he was pretty sure this was one of those times it would have been better to take a step back and measure his words. “I wanted to figure myself out, you giant ass. What right do you have to tell me what I can and…” Another deep breath. “It no longer matters. I’ll let Mr. Dixon know you can see him now.”

  “Laurel, we’re not done discussing this.”

  Her eyes narrowed and he was sure she was about to tell him where he could shove it when a thin man with wire-framed glasses stepped into the doorway.

  “Mr. Bradford, thank god. It’s imperative that I speak with you.”

  He wasn’t done with Laurel. He needed to make her understand that the way she was going about this wasn’t good.

  And how should she go about it? He’d told her she couldn’t go to the safest place. Then told her she couldn’t go anywhere else either. She was trying to figure herself out. If she meant those words, how could he hold her back? Didn’t she deserve the same chance he’d had?

  No. Laurel is supposed to be normal. Laurel is supposed to not need the rough stuff because she’s a sweet princess. Wake up. This is what you do. You put a woman on a pedestal. You aren’t sexually liberated. You’re still the same pathetic boy who wanted his father to take two seconds with him.

  Now who had daddy issues?

  “Mr. Bradford?” the man asked.

  “Laurel,” he said, more softly this time. “Can we please discuss this further?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no need. I’ll keep my private life private from now on.”

  “Hey, I’m serious about needing to talk,” the man said, his shoulders straightening.

  “In a minute, buddy.” He needed to talk to Laurel. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. In that moment he realized the only thing worse than having Laurel around was not having her around. If she quit, he wouldn’t be able to watch out for her. He wouldn’t know where she was or what she was getting into—like offering herself up on the fucking Internet. “Laurel, let’s talk.”

  “No. I need to talk, damn it.” The thin man had turned a brilliant shade of red and sweat had broken out on his forehead. “You have to listen to me, Bradford. My brother is going to kill you. Harvey has sworn to not stop trying until you and everyone you love is dead.”

  The room seemed to chill.

  “Okay, then. Why don’t you sit down?” It looked like his talk with Laurel was going to have to wait.

  * * * *

  Thank god for crazy people and their death threats. Laurel Daley sat down and was very aware that most people wouldn’t be happy that their boss had been threatened, but it was a well-timed announcement. She’d been about to cry and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that over Mitchell Bradford anymore.

  Besides, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone had threatened to kill her cantankerous boss. Hell, she thought about doing the deed herself about ten times a day. She was thinking about doing it now.

  What right did he have to tell her she couldn’t go to Sanctum? Asshole. Selfish prick.

  She’s a bright light, Kai. She’s one of those people you can’t help but adore.

  Selfish prick who said the sweetest things when he thought no one was listening. He was also a selfish prick with serious insecurities, with a truckload of baggage it looked like she wasn’t going to be able to plow through.

  “I understand your brother is angry with me,” Mitch was saying. He was back behind the massive desk he hadn’t allowed her to get rid of. It was a refugee from the 1960’s, when apparently men compensated with large oak desks instead of sports cars. At least she’d been able to get rid of his crappy chair and replace it with one that wouldn’t mangle his spinal cord. “I’m a lawyer. A lot of people get angry with me.”

  “It’s in his job description,” she quipped.

  His dark eyes moved her way, and it took all she had not to fall to the floor in a submissive pose. But she wasn’t going to. Nope. Not for him.

  “As I was saying, my line of work tends to bring out the worst in people, but I’ll admit I don’t remember your brother. You said his name was Harvey? Harvey Dixon?”

  “We don’t have a file on him, sir,” Laurel said, knowing damn well that the “sir” would get his motor running, and that was why she merely meant it as a politeness. She wasn’t even thinking of capitalizing the word the way she would with Master Ian or Master Liam. If Mitch wanted the relationship professional, then he better get used to a lowercase s.

  He frowned at her, his handsome face going all gruff in a way that somehow managed to make him look more masculine. “How do you know? Do you have the files memorized now?”

  She could have them memorized if she wanted to, but that would cut into her reading time. “Nope. I checked my tablet. I scanned in all the files and where they’re stored about a month after you hired me. We’re fully automated.”

  His brows formed that V he got whenever something confused and disturbed him. “No one told me. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

  He was often like the old guy on his lawn shaking his fist at those young people. For a superman of not even forty, he was very adverse to change. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  She often had to go around her gorgeous grump in order to get anything done. Mitch had a smoking body and the finest legal mind she’d ever met, but he also had a few quirks, and he could be a massive ass when he wanted to be.

  “You can’t go around destroying my files.”

  “Good god, Mitchell. I didn’t destroy the files. I scanned them in. Please tell me you don’t think that involves the computer eating the files or something.”

  “Of course not.” The look in Mitch’s eyes told her he would have a discussion with her after this was over. Which was good since she intended to have a discussion with him, too.

  He turned back to their guest. “Why do you believe your brother intends to kill me?”

  Patrick Dixon shifted in his chair, his hands nervously moving along the arms. “Well, my first indication was when he told me he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to rip your heart from your chest, eat it and then…well, the rest is all digestion but he used much more crude language.”

  “He wants to shit my heart out?” Mitch asked, his eyes rolling. “Like I never heard that one before. Is there a reason he wants me in his bowels?”

  “He shouldn’t given how much red meat you eat. It might be harder to pass than he thinks.” She tried to force him to work a salad in every now and then.

  Dixon ignored her. “My brother considers himself quite the inventor. Over the years he’s been awarded twenty-two different patents. He’s a brilliant engineer, but he prefers to work for himself, and the patents have never panned out, if you know what I mean.”

  “Just because you patent something doesn’t mean you’re going to make money from it,” Mitch replied.

  “Exactly.” Patrick sighed as though this was something he’d thought about long and hard. “Some of his inventions didn’t have much use or purpose in the real world. We managed to get a few of his ideas to market, but it wasn’t enough for Harvey. He always thought about the ones that got away. A few of his more brilliant ideas were taken by large companies.”

  Mitch shook his head. “Was he working for them at the time? Are you trying to say they stole his patents?”

  “No. While my brother is very smart, his processes can be a bit convoluted, difficult to understand.”

  “Ah,” Mitch said with a nod. “So someone swoops in and refines the idea, changes the process so i
t’s easier to produce the wanted effect.”

  “It’s not fair,” Patrick said, his hands forming fists.

  Mitch shrugged. “A patent applies to a process for bringing about a result. It doesn’t apply to the result itself. Otherwise, we’d have monopolies all over the place on manufacturing. If someone took your brother’s ideas and made them simpler, easier to get to market, then they win the prize. It’s Edison vs. Tesla.”

  This was why she’d hung around. Mitch was brilliant and all that law knowledge seemed to have taken up the majority of space in his brain. He didn’t have a whole lot of tact. He obviously couldn’t see that Dixon was on the edge of an emotional outburst.

  Laurel leaned forward and patted the man’s arm. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must have been very frustrating for him.”

  Dixon immediately calmed, his eyes sad now but resolute. “It is, Miss Daley. It’s hard to watch someone you care about struggle. I have to admit that my brother isn’t the most stable of people. He’s brilliant but not stable.”

  She couldn’t say that about her boss. Yes, he was gruff and he obviously didn’t put any stock in chemistry and wouldn’t know the prefect sub if she bit him in the ass—actually she hadn’t tried that—but Mitchell Bradford was stable. Since the day she’d met him, he’d been the man who walked her to her car every day, even if it was afternoon, even when he wasn’t leaving himself. He was the one who wanted a text to make sure she’d made it home all right. Mitch was the one who flipped out when he realized her car had a warning light that had been blinking away for six weeks. He was also the one who took her car down himself because he didn’t trust mechanics to not take advantage of her.

  “None of this explains why I’m his target. Or why he has a target at all,” Mitch said gruffly.

  Dixon leaned forward. “You have to understand that Harvey has always had big dreams. He would make a little money and then spend it all on the next invention because he didn’t want to simply be comfortable. He wanted to be rich, famous. He’s had many offers over the years for stable employment but he turned them all down because his wealth was always right around the corner.”