by Loki Renard
“It already happened,” he says with a thin smile. “We could have done this the easy way, but you wanted to make it hard. So I’m going to make it very hard. From this moment on, consider yourself mine.”
There’s something hypnotic about him. He is almost archetypically perfect. Above everything. Above me. As I stare at him in shock, I take in all the little details I missed in my first rush of nerves. His face is brutally handsome, chiseled, and groomed. Nothing is left to chance. Even his brows are tamed, though still masculine. Movie star good looks, that’s what he has. And that’s what makes this so confusing. He is a leading man, but I am no leading lady.
I can’t imagine what he has in mind for me, but I am one hundred percent sure whatever it is, I will not like it.
Okay. I have to calm down. There has to be a way out of this. I stand there and I think as hard and as fast as I can. It occurs to me that from his perspective, I just came in here and threatened his business. It’s not what I meant to do, but I guess I didn’t think it through thoroughly enough. If I had spent a little less time being so pleased with how smart I was to have figured this out, and a lot more time on thinking how it would be received, I would never have come.
“I’m not going to, uh, tell anyone about this,” I say, trying not to stammer.
“Oh, I know you won’t,” he says smoothly.
I gulp. “You’re going to have me whacked, aren’t you.”
A smile breaks through the facade of control, and for a moment I see him truly amused. He lets out a warm, rich chuckle and shakes his head at me. “You have a wild imagination, little girl.”
“Well, uh, you just said I was yours. And if you think you can own people, then it’s not a big leap to just getting rid of them when they pose a problem.”
“Try to think less in if/then statements,” he smirks. “And try listening instead of thinking. The moment you came in here, I decided I wanted you. I would have been happy to employ you, but you didn’t want that, so I’ll have to go a step further and take you.”
“Take me?” I squeak his words like a chipmunk echo.
“I’ll have a car pick you up…”
I don’t wait to hear the rest of his sentence. He’s not listening to me. He’s just rolling right over me, imposing his will on me as if I’m just some dumb object to be acted upon. It’s become apparent that I need to get out of here. Now.
I grab for my laptop and I practically run from the room.
“Casey, wait…”
“No! I’m not yours!”
Those are words I never thought I’d have to yell at a billionaire, but here we are.
“You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he sighs as I leave.
I half expect him to come after me, but he lets me go without giving chase. I rush past the bitchy secretary and head to the elevators. It takes way too many heart-pounding seconds for the doors to open, and then, once I’m inside the elevator, for them to close.
It’s as if time has gone into slow motion, and as I stand there, clutching my laptop in front of myself like a shield, I see Ethan coming through those glass doors. My heart starts to pound so hard the blood rushes in my ears. He’s on the phone. Talking to someone. As our eyes meet across the lobby, he flickers a wink at me, which makes my stomach drop to my fucking toes.
Then the doors close and I am safe from his gaze. The elevator descends slowly, floor by floor. I am still buzzing with adrenaline, even though I am pretty sure I’m safe now. Whatever he said up there doesn’t apply in the real world. People can’t just take each other. That’s not remotely legal. In fact, it’s the complete opposite.
I hurry away from the building. My car is parked in a cheap spot a couple of blocks away, and I can’t wait to get into it. I’m half afraid that someone will come bursting out of one of the dark alleys I pass on my way, but I remain comfortably unhampered until I reach my Toyota and dive inside.
Cars are good places for feeling safe. They’re rolling armored fortresses. With all the windows rolled up and the doors locked, I feel a bit better. I grab my phone and reach out into the digital world where I feel the most comfortable.
‘Note to self,’ I post on my wall. ‘Billionaires be crazy.’ I append a .gif of Patrick Bateman in the middle of his infamous business card rant. Not everyone will get the reference, but it doesn’t matter. They get the gist of it.
It starts getting likes immediately. Everyone hates billionaires. Nobody is more of a universally reviled dick than somebody who has managed to make a vast amount of money.
Feeling validated, and better, I start the car.
A second later, a loud rapping on the window makes me let out a screech of shock. When I look up, there’s a police officer standing outside. He’s a younger guy, easy on the eyes. He motions for me to roll down the window. I do as I’m told.
“Step out of the car, ma’am.”
If I know anything from watching endless videos of police encounters online, I know better than to argue with him.
“Is there a problem, Officer?”
The clichéd question comes out of my mouth like I’m scripted. Police officers are the only people we ever ask if there are problems.
“Out of the car, ma’am.”
I put my phone down and get out of the car. I have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d understand being stopped if I’d just run a red, but I was sitting in a parked car. Even I can’t break any laws sitting still. I think.
Looks like I’m running into the second overbearing asshole on a power trip in one day. Maybe the moon is in Dickbagatarius, if that’s a sign, which it should be. I can think of quite a few people who must have been born under that sign.
It’s funny. Ethan Keller couldn’t stop me from just walking out of his office, but these guys can walk up to you and just take you prisoner. Literally. Like something out of Keller’s wet dream.
“Turn around and face away from me, ma’am. Put your hands on the top of the car.”
I do as I’m told and a second later I feel a pair of strong, masculine hands running down my thighs and calves, sweeping across my ass, finding my hips and waist. This is intimate as hell, even if the touch does only last a fraction of a second. Those hands come all the way up under my breasts. Then they come up over my shoulders, to my arms, which are pulled back behind me. Cool steel encircles my wrists as he cuffs me without so much as a word.
“Be advised, I have one in custody,” he says into his radio.
“You’re arresting me?”
“Watch your head, ma’am,” is all he says as he puts me into the back of a waiting police cruiser.
This isn’t right. The police can’t just handcuff you and put you in their car. Or can they? I’m really not sure anymore. The world has gotten very strange over the last hour or two. He’s supposed to at least tell me what’s going on, right?
“Officer,” I say, my voice becoming strained with the effort it’s now taking to remain polite. “If you could just tell me what this is in relation to?”
He doesn’t reply. Does he really need to? This is starting to get obvious. Ethan fucking Keller has gotten me arrested. That’s what he meant when he said I shouldn’t make it more difficult on myself back up in his office. I wonder what charges they’re going to lay on me. Hacking, probably.
What a fucking asshole. I am going to ruin him for this. I am going to lay complaints with every single authority I can find. I am going to sue him until there’s absolutely nothing left.
“Is there a reason I’m under arrest?”
This cop is not following protocol. He’s not reading me my rights. This is shady as shady gets and it can’t end well.
I’m guessing Ethan intends to flex his muscle, show me how much power he has, and then once I’m out, I’ll presumably do whatever he tells me to do. Except none of that is going to happen. I am going to broadcast this bullshit far and wide.
I sit in the back in the silence the officer has basically
dictated, and I bide my time. The station isn’t that far away. He gets me out of the car, but doesn’t even bother with the charade of processing. No fingerprints. No mugshot. My anxiety starts to rise as I realize none of this is going to be on record.
He’s joined by a second officer who seems to have been waiting for us. Another bright young guy, probably on the take. They lead me to an interrogation room. It’s tiled and has a heavily marked linoleum floor in institutional green. I find myself wondering who makes products in these tones. They have to know they’re unpleasant to look at. Is there a decoration company somewhere with an ‘authoritarian oppression’ range?
The cops un-cuff me and tell me to sit in the metal chair that is bolted to the floor. I do as I’m told. This is not good. It’s so not good I can’t even really process how bad it is.
They leave. I sit there. It starts to sink in that I might actually be kind of fucked here if he has the cops on his payroll. Nobody in legitimate business has to pay off the police. Whatever the fuck Ethan is up to, it’s criminal. But I already knew that. And I decided to walk into his lair and tell him I knew.
Dumb. Fucking. Ass.
The chair is uncomfortable, and the nerves make it impossible to sit still anyway. Something bad is about to happen. Hell, it’s already happening. They haven’t read me my rights. They haven’t even arrested me. This is more like a kidnapping.
Still, if he was going to have me killed, I doubt it would happen this way. It would be way easier to just have someone shot in a drive-by. Those still happen occasionally. Or maybe have me ‘robbed’ and killed as a result. Or maybe crash my car into a tree and… I am getting way too deep into thinking about ways to be killed without suspicion. It’s not helping.
Time passes weirdly in the room. I’m not sure if I’ve been in here ten minutes or an hour when the door opens again. The same two officers file in—and Ethan Fucking Keller.
“Oh, my god.”
I have the weirdest feeling of relief at seeing him. Like he’s going to get me out. Like it’s all going to be okay, which is stupid because he’s obviously the only reason I’m here.
“Hello, Casey.”
“Hey, Asshole.”
I’m pissing him off. I can see that, but I don’t have much power left in the world, and what power I do have comes in the form of words. I’ll curse him out until I can’t speak anymore if he keeps harassing me.
“You really do like making things more difficult for yourself, don’t you,” he says, tilting his head to the side and smiling at me in that half-smirk he has. The one that makes him look cocky and sexy, in spite of everything. There is something magnetic about a man who just doesn’t give a damn, who bends the world to his will. I don’t like it but I can see the allure.
The officers walk to the back of the room and stand behind me, one off to either side. Ethan comes and stands right in front of me, looking down at me with that dangerously pale gaze.
“You trying to prove a point, Mr. Keller?”
“I am,” he says. “But I get the impression it’s not working.”
“It’s not,” I say. But it is. It really fucking is. This whole evening has been one big long mistake. As soon as I get out of here, I’m going back to my car, I’m getting my shit, and then I’m going back to my apartment, getting some more stuff, and then I am splitting the state. This just got way too damn real for my liking, and he might have the cops here, but I doubt he’s paid off every trooper in every county across the country.
“Well,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll find something that works for you, little girl.”
“I doubt it.” I cross my arms over my chest, taking refuge in resistance. I figure he can’t do much more to me than this. He can’t actually get me into the justice system. If he does, there will be evidence of this bullshit and there will be too many people to control. Or I will end up in jail and then what will he get from me? Nothing. This is checkmate. It’s designed to intimidate me into working with him, and it’s not going to happen.
A slow smile spreads over his face. “It has been a long time since anyone was this much fun.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts.”
The smirk grows wider. “What do you think is going to happen next, Casey?”
“I think you’re going to try to scare me. I think you’re going to try to push me around. I think you’re going to regret it.”
“Ooh,” he laughs, a mocking note in his voice. “Listen to you, kitten. So dramatic. You’re already scared. Because I already told you what happens next. You’re mine. This game is over. I prepared for this, Casey. The minute you contacted me, I had people look into you. Having seen what our technology does, you can imagine how deep the data went.”
“You mean you read everything I ever wrote, including my emails.”
“Well, not everything,” he says with an unapologetic smirk. “But enough. I needed to know who you were. How much of a threat you were.”
So he pried into my private life. Hardly unexpected, I guess. What else is going to happen when you piss off a data maven?
He can do all of this, but he can’t force me to be impressed by it. Fuck this guy.
“You’re a sick fucking asshole. And you paid off the cops to pick me up? Just to prove a point? What are you? Some fucking super villain?”
I’m furious. I’ve literally never been this angry in my life. Ethan is everything wrong with the world. The fact that he’s rich, successful, and handsome as well just drives me even more wild. I’m going to work my ass off to make sure there are consequences for what he’s doing to me. He’s not going to get away with this, not in the long term.
“You’re mouthy,” he says flatly. “I like mouthy. You know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because breaking mouthy girls is so much more of a challenge.”
His hands go to his waist. His fingers work at his belt. He whips it off, leather sliding through designer loops in a smooth motion that sends a shiver through my body. What the hell is he doing? Is he going to take his clothes off in here?
He looks up to the officers and smiles.
“Hold Miss Casey here down over the bench,” he says. “I’m going to teach her a lesson in manners.”
“What the fuck?” I barely have time to curse before the officers do as he says. The two powerful men pick me up from the chair and press me down over the table, my upper body resting on the metal surface, my ass raised high, my feet barely touching the floor. My inability to process what is going on here makes me think slow while they are acting fast.
“Remember,” he says to me. “You had the chance to make this so much easier on yourself.”
“Fuck. You.”
He glances back up at the cops. “Bare her ass.”
My jeans are tugged down by the big hands of total strangers. My underwear goes with them. I am bare assed naked in a police room. There are three men seeing absolutely everything I have between my legs, and probably between my cheeks. Their handling is firm, but not rough. I almost have the sense that they’ve done this before.
“Do you know what’s going to happen now, Casey?” Ethan’s smooth purr draws my attention back to him.
My stomach clenches. He has that belt looped double in his hands in a way that is strongly suggestive. Unless I am very much mistaken, Ethan Keller, the Ethan Keller, the man who Time magazine called a global genius, is about to whip my butt.
“Let me up! Let me up!” It’s not an answer to his question—or maybe it is. I’m starting to get panicky. I don’t want this to happen.
“Settle down,” Ethan says, walking around to stand behind me. I can’t see anything now besides the cinder block wall with a poster screwed to it. Something about rights. I can’t take in text right now. I’m frantic, but there’s no way to pull out of the policemen’s grips. Their big male hands are all over me, and they don’t need to struggle to keep me in place. They lean on me a little and it’s all I can do not to be flattened.
“God fucking… you utter cunt, you fucking…”
“Want us to gag her for you, sir?”
“And you!” I curse at the officer who offered to do that. “You’re corrupt! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Nobody in this room gives a fuck about my opinion. That much is painfully obvious. Lecturing them is hopeless.
“No, I want to hear her,” Ethan says. “She’ll be making much prettier sounds soon.”
Whooooosh… Crack!
I hear the leather sing through the air a moment before his belt meets my ass in a viciously hard stroke. Heat blasts through my bottom, jolts through my body, ignites my outrage.
“Fuck!”
“Stop swearing,” he orders calmly. “You’re being punished because you didn’t listen the first time around. I made you a very good offer, Casey. You could have been at home right now, making plans to move to a nicer apartment, but you wanted to do this the hard way. So we’re doing it the hard way.”
“You can fucking… ow!”
The belt lands again, viciously finding the skin that was already seared by the first stroke. He’s done this before. I can tell. His aim is perfect. He swings his arm in a steady motion and he brings the leather down in a brutal arc over and over, lashing my poor tender skin with harsh strokes that burn long after they land.
I thought he might have me killed for what I know. But he has something else in mind for me. Humiliation. Pain. How do I make this stop?
Crack!
The belt lands again and the answer to my question makes me desperate. I can’t make this stop. He will stop when he wants to. And I’ve spent practically every second I’ve had with him pissing him off.
I feel so fucking small, so totally desperate. It hurts like hell, and every single stroke leaves an aftermath that combines with the other strokes to make my butt throb.