The Big Bad Office Wolf (Kings of the Tower Book 1)

by May Sage

  Instead of paying attention to what the auctioneer was saying, she started freaking out. The auction part of the evening never lasted too long; there generally was just a dozen items. So, this was it. In less than an hour, Bryant was going to take her to his club.

  Fuck. She was biting her lip, stressing out, imagining the worst, and crossing her legs, wishing she’d worn some goddamn panties. The one thing she wasn’t doing, though, was trying to back down.

  The notion never even crossed her mind. Tori knew that if she didn’t at least try things out, she’d spend the rest of her life wondering if Bryant Parker was the one who got away.

  Finally, the last bid was accepted.

  “Ready?”

  Was she?

  The First King

  “Holy fuck.”

  The dress was nothing close to what she’d expected. For one, it was white, not black, or even red. Secondly, it didn’t make her think of a porn video as much as the glossy pages of a magazine. It looked vaguely familiar, and she wondered what celebrity had worn it on the red carpet.

  Also, apparently Bryant hadn’t been joking about the underwear: she couldn’t wear any, because there was a high slit along each of her legs, going up above her hip bone. The skirt floated softly around her hips, and the plunging neckline went down to her belly button.

  Bryant had gallantly waited outside the limo while she got dressed. Now that she’d let him back in, he was staring at her in a way that made her think about the name she’d given him, so many moons ago: he was a wolf. A starving one. And she looked like dessert.

  “This is….a little much.”

  “Trust me when I say you won’t think so in a few minutes,” Bryant replied, still devouring her with his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  She blushed all the way from the limo to the door of The Tower, self- consciously glancing left and right; but this was Manhattan, so no one paid her any mind.

  The doorman let them through the doors, tilting his head respectfully as they passed him by, and then they were back inside The Tower. Only, the first time she’d stepped a foot in there, she hadn’t realized what sort of place she’d walked into, so she was considerably more curious than she had been on her first visit.

  The lobby was just as inconspicuous as it had been then.

  “Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

  “Lillie,” he greeted the same pretty attendant behind her desk. “I did put a request through for a new recruit to be added to my membership last week.”

  “Of course,” she smiled, before pulling a black folder from one of her drawers. “I have everything ready for your convenience. Ms. Brown, I presume?” she turned to Tori, her smile friendly and reassuring. She smiled back awkwardly. “If you and Mr. Parker would follow me.”

  The woman led them to an office hidden behind one of the sleek walls; putting her palm flat against a panel made a secret door open up.

  A nervous giggle escaped Tori’s throat. That basically was some James Bond shit.

  The high tech, minimalist office was entirely white, with some glass furniture; a robot would have felt right at home there. And, to be entirely honest, no evidence proved that the man sitting behind one of the three large desks in the room wasn’t a robot. His features were completely symmetrical, perfect; no strand of his hair, parted and combed back, dared fall out of place.

  Looked like James Bond wasn’t a bad nickname for him. He certainly fit the bill.

  “Bryant.”

  “Desmond.”

  Of course he was called that. No Jack, Joe, or John for the mysterious potential spy.

  “This is Desmond King, one of the three owners of The Tower Club. Desmond, meet Victoria Brown.”

  The man looked at her like he was assessing her, and not in a sexy way either. Like she was a potential bomb ready to explode.

  “You go by Tori, am I right?” the man didn’t raise his voice, but each word resounded like a low, rumbling thunder. Tori could have found it sexy, but she didn’t. He really didn’t even try to hide that he was dangerous. “And you are James Croft’s goddaughter.”

  She nodded.

  “Sit down.”

  It wasn’t an invitation. Feeling like she wanted to turn on her heels and run out of there, she shot Bryant a look. He stepped close to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “We can go if you’d like.”

  She breathed easier after that. Shaking her head, she sat on the fashionable and uncomfortable plastic chair.

  “Bryant did notify us a week ago of your intention to explore our club today. I trust you understand the sort of establishment we run, and you also understand that we cater to the most elite public around the globe. For those reasons, this conversation won’t go any further until you’ve signed an NDA.”

  Feeling a little more like her confident self, now that the surprise had passed, she managed to say, “You definitely need to work on your bedside manners, Desmond.”

  The man stilled. He lifted his cold blue eyes from the papers he’d been fixed on, and she half expected him to tell her to get out. Instead, and to her shock, he cracked an unexpected smile. Never mind. He totally was sexy. “No woman has ever complained about my bedside manners, Ms. Brown.”

  Okay. Well, then. She crossed her legs, and concentrated on the piece of paper Lillie was handing her.

  She read each word carefully; it wasn’t the first NDA she’d seen. Marketing campaigns were often set up well before the products were announced so, of course, her clients did expect her to sign an agreement before getting her team to work on prototypes that weren’t yet available to the public.

  It looked mostly okay, except for the last part. KTT International LLC wasn’t only going to sue the fuck out of anyone who violated their NDAs, they also promised to release some compromising content.

  She could definitely see how that would be a huge deterrent for most people, particularly the sort of upscale clientele the club attracted.

  She was about to ask what guarantee she had that they weren’t going to catch the wrong suspect and release videos about the wrong person, but the following paragraph detailed under which circumstances they would take action, and, basically, it seemed like nothing other than a hundred percent certitude, backed up by a pile of concrete evidence, would work.

  “Wow. You do take this seriously,” she commented, holding her hand out towards Bryant, who ruffled through his inner pocket to fetch his Montblanc.

  She signed the NDA.

  “Indeed. Our members’ privacy, their comfort, and their safety are our absolute priority.”

  “Good to know. Okay, so that’s done. What now?”

  “Now, we’re going to need your authorization for a thorough background check.” The assistant was handing her some more paperwork. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour. In the meantime, you’re very welcome to make use of the bar. Lillie will take you.”

  The Robot James Bond went back to his work, and the pretty receptionist got them out of his office, then led them through to a dark bar with comfortable leather seats and red lights.

  Tori’s jaw dropped. She’d expected to see some people she’d recognize, maybe a few A-listers, considering what Lexi had told her, but fuck. There was a senator to her right, with a reality TV star on his lap, kissing him passionately. But that was okay, because the senator’s wife was there, and she was making out with a guy she was pretty sure had won Wimbledon a while back. There was a rock star, and some football players, plenty of actors…

  Of the twenty-five people chilling out in the room, she could identify nineteen without any effort; the others, no doubt, were businessmen and women from sectors she had no interest in. Or perhaps people like her and Lexi, who’d been invited although they didn’t quite belong.

  Her family did alright, but her father had made his own money, mainly by investing in James’ venture right out of college. Being raised as an upper-middle-class woman hadn’t prepared her for this; even her mother would have felt out of her dept
h amongst this crowd. And Bryant had been right about the dress: it wasn’t out of place or over the top here.

  “Wine, or something stronger?” Bryant asked.

  Like that was even a question. “Something stronger. Neat. Don’t bother with the rocks.”

  He chuckled low.

  “It can be a little overwhelming at first, especially down here in the bar. Don’t worry. And if you do feel uncomfortable at any point, I’ll get you out of here, okay?”

  She inclined her head.

  Now that the shock had passed, the next thing she noticed was that, once you got over the fact that you were sitting next to celebrities, well, they weren’t doing anything outrageous. Sure, some people were making out, but that was about it. She relaxed a little.

  Bryant ordered at the bar, and a large, bald bartender came back with their drinks in no time. Seeing no money exchange hands, she raised a brow.

  “Our membership covers drinks at the bar, and room service, basically, everything unless you get an employee to go shopping for you.”

  “Do I want to know how much it costs?”

  “Probably not.”

  She winced before taking the first sip of the amber liquid she was holding in her hands, expecting an unpleasant taste, but, while the beverage certainly had a kick, she was pleasantly surprised.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “Original British Navy stuff. Not just what you can buy everywhere: Desmond has some Imperial rum stored away for the bar here. I offered him a fair price for whatever he’s got left, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  She rolled her eyes at the oh-so-typical ‘mine is bigger than yours’ manly thing.

  “So. I’ve signed the paperwork and all. What now? I mean, once they’ve cleared my background check.”

  Bryant smiled.

  “Well, then you’ll get a tour of The Tower. It’ll take us a couple of hours. I think Lexi is around tonight, so maybe we can say hi, unless she’s…”

  Tori winced, and proposed, “Otherwise engaged?”

  Sounded better than fucking someone kinky style.

  “And then?”

  Why was she pushing this? She knew exactly what was going to happen after that.

  “Then, if you haven’t run for the hills yet…” he took his time, before finishing his sentence. “Well, it depends, luv. Are you going to carry on pretending you’re only here out of concern for your friend’s welfare, or perhaps out of curiosity?”

  She could feel her whole face burn at this teasing accusation.

  “I was concerned about Lexi. And I am curious.”

  Bryant tilted his head. “You do realize that when you give in, I’m going to have to do something about the fact that you’re lying to me.” His tone was even, but he’d raised his hand to her face, and he was caressing her lip with his thumb. “Perhaps a little spanking for a naughty, naughty girl.”

  Fuck. Why was that hot?

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You’re here for me, Victoria Brown.”

  They both knew that. They both knew she couldn’t stay away, however much she’d wanted to.

  “Say it.”

  She probably should have; instead, she opened her mouth, and sucked at his thumb, before licking it for good measure.

  “I’m not here for you. I’m here for me.”

  Vicky

  The woman was going to drive him to madness well before his time. Thankfully, they were interrupted before he could flip her over, push the panels of her dress aside, and fuck her right here in the bar.

  It was no surprise that it took less than an hour; it wasn’t like there were too many things to know about a woman like Victoria Brown. What you saw was what you got. Digging deeper was just a fruitless endeavor.

  The previous week, when Bryant had gone through the exact same process with Lexi, Lillie had come back to greet them. This time, Desmond, who practically never showed his face in public, was the one who appeared.

  Bryant did his best to prevent himself from groaning. He’d known the damn King had liked Tori. Of course he had.

  Desmond’s father founded the club a long time ago; he was taken to a nursing home before Bryant had even heard of The Tower, and his three sons stepped in to run the club.

  Maverick, Cal and Desmond King were it, according to just about everyone around the world. They had their hands in every pie, a presence anywhere worth mentioning. Never had a name been bestowed with such wisdom: they really were kings of the world. It was no surprised that they were all Doms - the sort of Doms who made Bryant seem like a choir boy.

  The previous week, Lexi and he had dealt with Cal, the most volatile of the three Kings. But he’d given Lexi the basic 101 before returning to his workload, without showing his face again. And now, the eldest King was coming out of his office to show Tori, Bryant’s Tori, around his Tower.

  Fuck. Just his luck.

  Bryant couldn’t even blame him for being interested; after all, he had brought another girl there just a week ago. Desmond probably assumed that Tori was up for grabs.

  Yeah…that was a firm no.

  “Well, you’ll be glad to know that you’ve cleared our background check, Miss Brown.”

  “What, so that means you don’t mind about my parking ticket?”

  Desmond’s white teeth flashed. “It’s three years old, and you paid it in full. I believe we can overlook that.”

  She chuckled nervously, probably realizing that he wasn’t joking.

  “This is your membership pass, Miss Brown,” he said, handing her a brand-new phone.

  This was normal procedure, but Bryant noticed that hers was white, rather than black; it also looked a little newer. He stiffened.

  “A phone?”

  “Indeed. Bring it with you when you wish to be admitted to the non-residential parts of this building. You’ll need to scan it before entering any communal areas. There is an interactive chat room where you can connect with other members of The Towers, all around the world. You can also check what floors are currently available to you. May I?”

  She handed him the phone he’d just given her, and he showed her around the main app.

  “That’s where you check the available floor.”

  He clicked on the seventy-fourth, which showed as ‘locked’; there was a red cross right next to the number. “That’s where you’re staying, right?”

  Bryant nodded. “Yes. I’ll authorize your ID, so you can come in freely. The other floors currently occupied will also be locked; there are always a few available rooms, though. Not that you’ll need them,” he added, pointedly staring at Desmond, who raised a brow.

  Yes, he might as well have hit his chest and yelled “mine.” As long as the bloody King got the memo, he was good.

  “Are you seriously posturing again?” Tori mused, shaking her head. “Desmond is just being nice, he doesn’t want to bang me.” Then, she had to turn to the man and directly ask him, “You don’t, do you?”

  To his credit, Desmond lied rather skillfully. “Of course not. Now, let me show you the various floors. If you go down to one, you can see it says ‘public’ - click on it.” She did as she was asked, and her jaw hit the floor, when she read discipline - female.

  “There are shows on the first three floors, dance floors on the next four, and then rooms our members can claim at any time. You will notice that some occupied rooms are still green - that means whoever is currently in the room is open to other participants, or happy to be observed. Just click on the room number for extra details.”

  Bryant observed Tori very closely, trying to catch the smallest change in her expression, but she really wasn’t freaking out. She was definitely surprised, maybe even overwhelmed, though.

  “The members of staff are identifiable by the gold pin on their chest - it will either be a crown, a tower, or a horse. That’s to differentiate those who answer to me to those hired by my siblings.”

  “So, you’re into chess?” Tori guessed
.

  Bryant wished he could have told her to keep quiet. Every word she said was making Desmond look like he was considering taking a bite, probably because women didn’t talk to him; they squirmed, looked away, and knelt before him.

  Lexi had certainly had the appropriate Sub response when she’d met Cal. She’d looked away the whole time.

  That’s because Tori isn’t actually a Sub, no matter what you’re trying to turn her into, a little voice whispered in Bryant’s ear. He told it to shut up and mind its own business.

  No, Tori wasn’t your typical Sub, but, although it had practically been two months ago, he had no trouble recalling how she’d reacted to him. She could submit, sexually at least.

  If she wanted to.

  Finally, the King was done with his explanation. Bryant half expected him to offer to show them around, but, thank all fucks, he just said, “If you’re all set now, I wish you a good evening,” before skulking away in a puff of red smoke, his dark cape flying behind him.

  Okay, not really, on the cape. Or the smoke. But damn, the man had charisma, in spades.

  “You know, he’s a sadist. Pretty extreme, from what I hear.”

  “Yeeeep,” Tori replied, making the ‘p’ pop out. “Can’t even pretend to be surprised.” Then she flipped through her newly acquired ID phone, and asked, “So, are we starting with female discipline, floor one, or St. Andrew’s Cross, floor three?”

  He winced, knowing just what both of those entailed. “We’ll see, sweetheart. First, though, we have to run through the basics. I’m a Dom. For tonight, I’m your Dom.” He marked a pause, giving her the chance to deny that. She kept quiet.

  Good girl.

  “Other Doms will defer to me when it comes to you. They will ask me your name. They’ll ask me if they can touch you.”

  She opened her mouth. Catching his steady gaze, instinctively, without being told she needed to, she closed it.

  “Your name is Vicky, here. And no one will touch you. Not tonight.”