Twisted Rogue (The Twisted Love and Rogue Love Collection)

by Grey, Ophelia

  “Jane, what happened to Mrs. Harrison?”

  Jane put down her spoon slowly, looking down into her bowl for a few long minutes. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with sadness.

  “That isn’t my story to tell, dear.” She said softly. “But it is a very sad story. I know Mr. Harrison can be angry and unpredictable, but believe me when I say he has his reasons. Don’t judge the poor man too harshly. If anyone deserves kindness in this life, he does.” She picked her spoon back up and returned to her soup, making it clear that the conversation was over.

  I mulled over her words as I quietly finished my dinner. It seemed that I was right about Mr. Harrison’s wife passing away; and according to what Jane had said, it must have been under very tragic circumstances. I felt a deep ache in my heart for Blake Harrison. He must have truly loved the woman, and his pain was obvious. I wished I knew a way to help him ease the pain.

  Once I finished dinner, I decided to stop by Mr. Harrison’s office. I wasn’t sure exactly what I would say, but I wanted to let him know that I was sorry for my mistakes and that I was working hard to help him reclaim the life he wanted.

  I saw a soft glow coming from under his door and knocked gently. After a few quiet seconds, the door flew open and Blake Harrison stared down at me, his eyes wild.

  “I told you to never bother me here unless I’ve instructed you to come. Are you incapable of following instructions?” He growled. “I didn’t take you for an idiot.”

  “I…I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I was just…I wanted to apologize…” I trailed off as the fire in his eyes burned even brighter. The words caught in my throat. He was right. I kept making the same stupid mistakes. Every time I tried to fix things, I only made them worse.

  “You need to learn how to obey.” His sharp voice cut through my self-pity as his hand reached out and roughly grabbed my arm. “Come in here so I can teach you a lesson.” He gave me a tug and I stumbled into his office as he slammed the door behind us.

  “How old are you, Grace?” His voice was softer now, but he still managed to sound menacing. His face was so strong and angular, his green eyes piercing through bronzed skin and brown hair. He somehow managed to look even more handsome when he was angry.

  “I’m twenty-three,” I replied, feeling confused and worried. What did my age have to do with my mistakes?

  “So young.” His voice sounded sad and wistful now. “So sweet, so pretty, so naïve. You will soon find out that the world is cruel and violent. Let me give you your first taste.” His tone changed to a sharp angry bitterness as he spoke and I found myself shivering despite the warmth.

  “I’m not naïve,” I objected. “I’m not as simple as…”

  “Stop talking and go bend over me desk. Now.” His growling voice cut me off before I could finish explaining myself.

  I did as he asked, and walked carefully to his desk bending over it slightly. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I was afraid to ask. I looked at the papers on the big desk, trying to make sense of it all.

  I felt his strong hand push on the small of my back until I yielded and bent over completely, my head resting on the cool, polished wood.

  He didn’t speak as he moved his hand down the groove of my spine, stopping only when he reached the top of my skirt. A shiver ran through me. I didn’t know if it was from fear or excitement. He paused, then his hand was gone and I felt him fumbling with my hair tie until he finally just pulled it apart, snapping the elastic, and let my long brown hair tumble over my shoulders and onto the desk.

  “You are so beautiful. Stop hiding it.” Blake Harrison’s husky voice was whispering in my ear now as he ran his hand down my long, dark waves. “Beauty, youth, intelligence, confidence. They are your weapons in this fucked up world. Use them.”

  I tried to nod, but he had gripped a handful of my hair and was rubbing it in his palm. I wasn’t sure how to respond so I remained silent.

  “You are already such a thorn in my side,” he continued, his hand wandering back down my back. “I need to teach you to behave. I need to show you how fucked up this world is before someone else does.”

  I could feel his hips pressed up against me and it sent shivers through my body. I had never felt anything like it before. I felt terrified and excited and more alive than I had ever felt before. He slowly ground his hips against my ass as he talked and I could feel his hard bulge pressing into me. I gasped and pressed my nails into my palms, trying to remember reason and sense. I felt a warm wetness spread in my panties and couldn’t stop the small moan of desire that escaped my lips. I knew that everything about this was wrong, but I didn’t want it to stop.

  Blake Harrison pulled back from me and it left me feeling suddenly angry, empty, frustrated. I turned my head to look back at him only to see him pull back his arm and smack it forward against my ass. I yelped and tried to pull away, but he placed his left hand against my back, holding me against the table and he smacked my ass again.

  “Maybe now you will learn,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck.

  The soft woven fabric of my skirt was poor protection against his strong hand. I felt the sting of his palm spanking me again and the warm heat of pain spread over my entire buttocks. Warm tears trickled down my cheeks as I cried silently. His hand came down again and again as grunted, spanking me hard. I gasped and bit down hard on my lip to keep from sobbing.

  After ten hard smacks, Blake Harrison stopped and stepped away from me. I twisted to look back at him and saw his face twisted in sadness or anger, I couldn’t tell. He still looked so handsome, so dark and sexual, but there was some part of him that looked broken.

  I exhaled, relieved that I had endured my punishment and that the pain was over. But part of me ached to have his hand slapping my ass again. As I straightened, I felt a warm rush between my legs. Squeezing my slender thighs together, I could feel my panties were completely soaked. I had never had such a reaction before. Despite my embarrassment and confusion and pain, I had never been more turned on than I was at that moment.

  “Go!” Blake Harrison’s sharp voice snapped me back into the moment.

  I turned to face him, but he refused to look me in the eye. I took a step towards him, wanting to explain that it was alright, that I understood his pain and I wanted to help, but the tension in his jaw and the way he clenched his fists made me stop.

  “I said go! Leave!” His voice sounded frantic now.

  I nodded and walked past him to the door, closing it quietly behind me. I kept walking until I reached my bedroom and collapsed on the floor, against my door. My heart beat loudly in my chest and my hands were shaking as I brought my knees to my chest and breathed deeply. I tried to make sense of it all, but there was no sense to be made.

  Everything that had just happened was so wrong. What my boss had just done was inexcusable. But some deep, twisted part of me liked it. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to be rough. I wanted to help him Blake Harrison deal with his pain and I wanted him to use me. I knew what my parents would say. They would say Blake Harrison was the devil, and I was an immoral little slut. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to do it again.

  Chapter 5.

  The next few weeks were a blur of work. Blake Harrison never mentioned what had happened that night, except for a small white card with gold trim on which he had written forgive me and left outside my door the following morning along with a tray of breakfast..

  When I went to see him after breakfast, his face retained its usual strong, impassive expression. He discussed the details of the plan I had sent him, gave me lists of contacts and suggestions, and then told me to report back on my progress.

  I worked hard, doing my best to impress my boss, and planned an incredibly lavish event. I still felt lonely often, though. Blake Harrison only saw me briefly each workday to evaluate my work and give brief suggestions.

  Jane was busy keeping the Estate in working order and I would usually only see her at mealtim
es. Occasionally, I had the chance to briefly chat with other members of the staff, but I had no one to really talk to in my free time. On weekends, I would go and get new books from the library and explore more of the Estate grounds. I found my favorite nooks and crannies to hide away and read my books. I enjoyed my freedom, but I still felt an aching in my chest. Sometimes I felt so lonely, I considered calling home or calling Daniel just to hear a friendly, familiar voice.

  Planning the launch party was my savior. When I was busy working, I had no time to think about anything else. I spent the weekdays furiously typing up plans, calling up vendors and contacts and putting everything together.

  I sent out a huge batch of hundreds of beautifully printed invitations to the east coast elite, everyone important in the advertising industry, and key people that Blake Harrison told me would make sure the party got noticed. The initial list of contacts had been filled with thousands, but Mr. Harrison and I spent hours whittling it down to the most important guests. We wanted there to be an air of exclusivity, excitement, and mystery.

  The week of the party arrived and I felt my nerves getting to me. I could hardly eat at mealtimes, other than large mugs of coffee, something which Jane quickly noticed and fretted over.

  “You are already so tiny,” she said shaking her head. “You need to keep your health and strength.”

  I smiled and grabbed a piece of toast, deliberately taking big bites between my swigs of coffee so she could see I was eating it.

  Blake Harrison was busy wrapping up the final details on his new plan for the firm. It involved financials and many other technical aspects that he promised to teach me about after the launch. I wanted to learn right away, but he was right that neither of us had any extra time right then.

  “Come in,” he called when I knocked on his door early that Monday morning.

  My knock had grown more confident and his voice had grown friendlier. He still kept the impenetrable mask of authority on his face, but I got the feeling that he enjoyed the brief visits.

  “Everything is going surprisingly smoothly.” I walked into the office and quickly placed the papers on his desk for him to look over. “The caterer has our final numbers and the decorators are getting started today. Jane will oversee everything done on the grounds. I’ve been in touch with the media about…”

  “You look skinnier.” He cut me off in the middle of my sentence, his voice edged with anger. “Are you sick? Are you unwell?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve just been busy,” I replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious as his eyes moved over my body, taking in the looser fit of my grey pencil skirt and blue ruffled blouse.

  “It is part of your job to stay healthy,” Blake Harrison replied, his eyes flashing angrily at me as he stared me down. “If you fall apart, I will fire you.”

  I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. I remembered what had happened the last time I made Blake Harrison angry. His uncontrollable rage frightened me, and yet I felt my heart speed up at the memory of his hand smacking hard against my sore ass. I had felt the sting for days after, but I had also had several nights of dreams involving Blake Harrison spanking me. Each one had been more erotic than the last, culminating in me waking up in my bed, drenched in sweat and having soaked my panties.

  When I woke up from one of those dreams in the middle of the night, I had walked to my bathroom to rinse myself off before going back to sleep and heard the same desperate, haunting cries from down the hallway that I had heard my first night. Remembering Marshall’s warning, I just climbed back into bed and spent a sleepless hour tossing and turning while I tried to block out the sound.

  “Go and eat now, then get back to work.” Blake Harrison’s voice pulled me back to the present.

  I rushed out of his office, embarrassed by the tears springing to my eyes. I wasn’t sure exactly why I was so upset. It might have been my anger at being treated like a child, sadness that the friendlier relationship I had been building with Mr. Harrison had come crashing down, or possibly my disappointment that he hadn’t tried to punish me like the last time he was upset with me.

  I returned to the kitchen, careful to avoid eye contact with the few staff members finishing their breakfast at the long table, and grabbed a bowl of oatmeal, which I quickly ate standing up. I wasn’t in the mood to smile or fake pleasant conversation with anyone. After I finished, I rushed back to the library to continue my last-minute work on the party.

  I twisted my hair tie nervously in my hands as I made what must have been the hundredth call of the day. I was working so hard that my health was admittedly declining, as Mr. Harrison noted, but it was because I wanted so much to impress him and show him that despite my lack of experience and my small town roots, I was able to put together something spectacular.

  I twisted the elastic hair tie tight around my finger as the caterer droned on about the difficulty of obtaining blood oranges this season. What if the details don’t all fall into place? What if the party is a failure? My head swam with worries. I was concerned about being fired, but even more worried that Mr. Harrison would see me as a failure and want me to leave.

  “Mhm, well do what you can. Import them if you have to. Let me know tomorrow,” I finally said, cutting the caterer off mid-sentence.

  She was an incredibly verbose woman and had called me several times a day for the past week. Unfortunately, she was also the best-rated caterer in the area and I knew Mr. Harrison would expect me to provide only the best of everything for his guests.

  I made sure to eat my whole dinner that night and go to bed early after a relaxing bath in my colossal bathtub. It turned out that despite my annoyance, Mr. Harrison had been right. I woke up the next day feeling much more refreshed and energetic than I had in weeks. I managed to get through my work much more quickly and my temper was much better than it had been previously. I caught myself laughing at one of the decorator’s terrible jokes as he worked with the carpenter to hand up the decorations in the entrance hall.

  “You look better today.”

  The voice startled me. I turned around to see Blake Harrison standing in the doorway behind me, looking imposing and devastatingly handsome as usual in his expensive suit and pale blue tie. I couldn’t understand how he always managed to look like he had just been styled for a professional photo shoot.

  “Do you like the decorations so far?” I asked to change the subject. I didn’t want to admit that he had been right.

  “Hm, yes. They are over the top, but I suppose that is what you are going for with all of this.” He swept his arm across the room but his eyes stayed focused on me. “Only a few short days and we will see if you can manage to pull it off.”

  Blake Harrison turned and strode down the hall before I had a chance to form a response. I watched him walk away. He walked with a masculine, choppy, authoritative air while still managing to appear elegant. Everything about him was confusing. The man was full of opposites colliding into a picture that I still couldn’t understand. He praised me, he admonished me; he was too cold, then too familiar; he was totally in control and then completely out of control.

  “Is this where you are going to have them put the roses?”

  The decorator’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. I turned away from Blake Harrison’s retreating form and back to the work at hand. I wasn’t sure how to solve the mystery of Blake Harrison, but I knew that if I messed up anything about this event, I wouldn’t ever get the chance.

  The last few days of planning were a whirlwind. Days and nights blurred together as I secretly sent out emails in the dark, hiding under my covers like a kid with a flashlight. I knew Mr. Harrison would admonish me for not getting enough sleep, but I felt like I needed every spare moment to put the finishing touches on every aspect of the launch party.

  Finally, Friday arrived, the day before the event. Aside from a few last-minute mini-emergencies, everything was in place. I poured over and over the RSVP list, helped Jane oversee the finishing touches on all the d
ecorations, and gave the caterer a tour of the kitchen. I knew that there wasn’t much left for me to do, but sitting idly in the last few hours before such a big event was impossible. My mother had always told me that idle hands do the devils work, and the saying had stuck, despite my rejection of most of her life lessons.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time I finally made my way to the kitchen and sat down for the first time that day. It wasn’t until I was sitting in front of my plate of chicken and vegetables that I realized how exhausted I felt all the way down to my bones. I forced a few more mouthfuls of food past my lips and then stumbled up the stairs and down the hallway to my bedroom.

  I almost collapsed on my soft bed before I noticed the package. It was a long, cream-colored box tied with a sage green ribbon. I stopped and stared at it for a minute, but there was no card or note anywhere on the box. I gently untied the beautiful bow and opened the box. Shimmering, silver silk, tulle, and beads lay perfectly folded inside. I reached down, almost afraid to touch something so lovely. Carefully pulling it from the box, I saw that it was a dress. Tiny glittering tulle cap sleeves led to a fitted, beaded bodice that flowed down to a flared silk and tulle skirt. It was the single most beautiful dress I had ever laid eyes on, and judging by the workmanship, it was likely the most expensive as well.