by Ivy Carter
He hands me a stack of paperwork. “These items need to be filed.”
Again, I blink. “I don’t file.”
The dick doesn’t even bother to look up. “If I’m paying you a hundred grand a year, you’ll do whatever I ask.”
I’m so close to flipping him the bird but I rein it in. I flash back to the nightmare, the sheer panic on his face. It’s possible these night terrors linger with him for a few hours, even the next day. I decide to cut him some slack, and begin filing.
It takes almost an hour, and by the time I finish, my stomach growls in hunger. “Should we get some lunch?”
Duke doesn’t look up from his paperwork, and now I’m starting to get pissed.
“Have something ordered in,” he says. “Something light. I have a dinner meeting this evening.”
“With who?”
Damn it. The question came out without warning and now I sound like a jealous teen. I shake my head. “Forgive me. That’s none of my business.”
In fact, now that the MicroTracker is gone, nothing here is my business.
For the next two hours I perform menial tasks—I take notes, type up letters, serve him coffee and then scotch. Each task is assigned with a tone that lacks warmth, and the colder his voice, the bitterer I become. Finally, I snap.
“You know I have a degree, right?”
Duke looks up. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, the point is you’re wasting my skills.”
He taps his pen against a notepad. “As far as I’m concerned, you seem to think your best asset is telling me how to run my company.”
Fine. He wants to push? I’m up for the challenge. “If that were the case, I’d advise you not to waste your best IT girl on shit jobs like getting you coffee.”
“That’s quite an arrogant thing to say,” he says.
“Only if it’s not true,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “I’m learning confidence from the best.”
He scoffs. “A quick study…in this case.”
A flash in his eyes tells me I’ve scored a point. I let go of some bitterness and try a different tact. “Duke, come on. Can you give me something to work on? A project that lets me prove…”
“Today, you will continue doing as I ask,” he says. “And in this building, you will address me as Mr. Kingston.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “As you wish.”
I go back to my desk and fire up my laptop, scrolling through emails. There’s a message from Duke that reads: Do a search for any news pertaining to Kingston Enterprises. Compile a report of headlines by end of day.
I spin around. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re in the same room. You couldn’t ask me to do this in person?”
Duke’s phone rings and he answers it instead of responding. Argh. Why is he being such a jerk? I type KINGSTON INDUSTRIES into the search engine and a dozen or more links immediately pop up. But at the top of the list is a breaking news story.
I click on the headline unease rumbling in my stomach.
The headline on the Guardian newspaper reads: Kingston Industries employee uses secret tracking technology to follow…and murder…ex-girlfriend
My blood turns to ice.
I scroll down the page, scanning for my name. It’s there, alongside Forrest’s and Duke’s—the story claims we’re all implicated. And while the news isn’t quite accurate, the accusation is true. A chill settles deep into my bones.
I turn to wait for Duke to get off the phone, but I’m already too late. His email pings with an incoming message. His jaw tenses, eyes go dark. By the expression on his face, I know exactly what the email says.
Chapter 8
Duke swipes his arm across his desk, sending paperwork and his picture frame sprawling to the floor. It litters the hardwood like confetti.
My chest tightens.
Duke is mad. Seriously mad and it makes my insides twist.
“For fuck’s sakes,” he shouts. I’m sure everyone in the building can hear his thundering voice. I slouch further into my chair, wishing I could slink under it, burrow all the way to the damn basement. “Do you have any idea what this kind of publicity can do to a company like Kingston Industries?” he says.
It isn’t quite true what they say about bad press. In the wake of fake news, and wannabe reporters, every sentence printed is often layered with nuance and double meanings. But the only thing cloak and dagger about this article is how the information was leaked.
“This isn’t good,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
He stands and places his palms on his desk. He towers over me, menacing and mad. “You’re damn right it isn’t. Why would you do this?”
The accusation makes me gasp. “You think I did this?”
Duke jabs his finger in the air, aggressively pointing. “Very few people have access to the information that is printed here.”
He doesn’t say it, but fewer still have seen the evidence.
My blood begins to boil. “I’ve been with you twenty-four seven for the past three days,” I say, loud enough that I surprise even myself. “When would I have had time?”
Duke begins to pace. “If it wasn’t you, then who?”
“How the hell should I know?”
The truth is, our suspect list is small. There’s Forrest—but why would he say anything? He believes Jake is innocent and this evidence will incriminate him in the public eye, even if he manages to beat the charges against him. The police? What could they possibly have to gain?
“Could it be someone in your IT department?”
Duke’s face pales. “Are you insinuating I have a security breach?”
Admittedly, it seems unlikely. I throw my hands up. “Shit, Duke. I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws here.” We both are, but I’m the only one that seems to be paying the price. “Maybe one of your employees overheard something?”
Other possibilities seem too far-fetched, and it’s clear Duke isn’t convinced. Shifting blame to his staff is only pissing him off.
Duke stalks his office, pauses at the window to huff, stomps toward my desk, turns and storms to his. He thumps, he snorts, and he sighs.
My voice drops to a whisper. “What do we do now?”
Duke whirls on me. “There is no we,” he says, and for a second I’m not sure if he means professionally or personally. “It’s my company. I’ll deal with it. I’ll need to call my lawyer.”
“Right.”
He stares at me for a long moment until I realize that he wants me to leave. Fine. Great. I’ve been itching to go home anyway. I stand and gather my things, heart thundering against my ribcage. My brain is muddled, confused.
I didn’t leak the story, but somehow this is still my fault in Duke’s eyes. That stings.
“I’m going to get out of here,” I say.
“Good,” Duke says.
“I’m going home,” I add, as though I should offer some kind of explanation.
He stands with his hands on his hips. “Fine.”
I scan his face for warmth, a signal of some kind that I should kiss him goodbye, but his stone-cold façade has returned and I doubt even my affection can chip away at the ice I find there.
“Maybe this will blow over,” I say. A long shot, for sure. The Guardian isn’t the most respected newspaper in Chicago, but it’s no tabloid either. “Bad press….”
Duke cuts me off. “You may go now.”
Chapter 9
Onyx nuzzles into my neck, stretching his feline torso out across my chest. His purrs vibrate in my ear. I roll over, already sore from the lumps in my mattress, head pounding thanks to a heated argument from the TV upstairs.
Sunlight streams in through my thin curtains, making it impossible for an afternoon nap. This means I’m forced to replay the events of the past few days. Every. Single. One. God, what a bunch of drama. Between Duke and Jake and Forrest, I’m sick of the madness. Tired of men.
And if
I’m being honest, I’m even too scared to go to the police station and see Jake.
I’m just drifting off when my cell starts ringing. I consider ignoring the call. It’s probably Forrest or Duke and I’m not in the mood to talk to either. I push Onyx aside, sit upright, and stare at the unrecognizable number. I answer on the fourth ring.
“Is this Hailey Yorke?”
Too late I realize this could be a reporter following up on The Guardian article. “May I ask whose calling?”
“Alan Prentiss over at FuturePlay,” he says.
My stomach does a somersault. Alan Prentiss is a legend in the tech world, creator of the world’s most popular tablet, and a serious rival of Duke and Kingston Industries. No way he’s calling me. This is obviously a joke.
“Sure,” I say. “Try again. I’m not that naïve.”
A deep chuckle resonates through the line. “Cautious,” he says. “I like that in a person. Listen, Hailey, I read The Guardian article this morning.”
My cheeks burn. “Not my finest moment.”
“Bad news for Kingston Industries,” he says. “But I’d argue against it not being good for you. The technology is sophisticated. Smart. I could use someone like you on my team.”
A lump forms in the back of my throat. “Are you offering me a job?”
My entire body tingles with anticipation. Alan Prentiss is an industry giant, on par with Steve Jobs. For Alan to call me personally—
Wow.
My head spins. It’s almost too surreal to believe.
“I’ve been in this business a long time, Hailey,” he says. “I know real talent when I see it.”
I swallow hard. “It’s tempting…” More than I’m willing to admit. Much as working for Kingston Industries seemed like a dream job, things are complicated now. My skills are wasted. “But there may be some contractual obligations…”
As if that isn’t an understatement. So far my attempts at getting out of my contract with Duke have proved fruitless. Asking again, in light of recent developments, probably wouldn’t end well.
“I anticipated that,” Alan says. “Leave it with me. I have an impressive team of lawyers.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Is that a yes?”
My chest tightens. “If you can get me out of my current contract with Kingston Industries, I’ll certainly listen to what you have to say.” A knock at my door diverts my attention. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
“We’ll be in touch soon,” he says.
Numb, I disengage the call. Duke will be sure to see this as another betrayal—but I would be stupid not to take the job. I’d be committing career suicide, actually.
Another knock. “I’ll be right there,” I yell.
I wrap myself in a cardigan and crack open the door. My breath hitches as I see him standing there, devastatingly handsome and sexy as always—yet still somehow surprising me.
“May I come in?” he asks.
I glance back at my apartment, embarrassed at my thrift shop furniture. It’s clean, save the dirty bowl and spoon after devouring another pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream, but still nothing like Duke’s penthouse suite. “Uh…sure.”
He’s barely across the threshold before I’m suddenly pinned against the wall and his hands find their way under my cardigan to the thin tank below. I try to push him away but it’s no use—I go instantly limp. He kisses me hard, his tongue probing between my lips and tangling with mine. My body instantly responds, goes tingly with anticipation.
Before I can even think to protest, I’m dizzy with desire.
Duke holds one wrist up against the wall, while his free hand slides under my tank and brushes against my bare breast. My skin ignites. His thumb grazes my erect nipple. Damn it, I’m already wet.
“I’ve had a real shit day, Hailey,” he says, his voice low, gruff. He releases my wrist and aggressively slides my sweater off. Before it even hits the floor, he’s working on my shirt, pushing it up over my chest and then above my head. His mouth clamps around my nipple.
My hands thread into his hair at the back of head. I arch into him.
On some level, I know I should protest. I’m angry, hurt, on the verge of telling both him and his company to fuck off, but Lord help me, I enjoy this too much, the way his mouth explores every inch of my body, his kisses igniting a passion that is more intense than anything I’ve ever felt.
Duke lifts me onto his waist. “Bedroom,” he grunts, more command than question.
“Across the room,” I pant.
My legs wrap tighter around his waist and I can feel his cock thicken against the thin material of my leggings. His fingers tighten on the back of my thighs as he strides to the bedroom. Onyx leaps off the bed.
Duke eases me onto the mattress and strips off my pants. His breath is hurried, frantic, all patience wiped clear. It’s dizzying and empowering, knowing how much he wants—needs—me.
His mouth moves down my abdomen, and dives between my legs. His teeth sink into the soft flesh at the top of my thighs, hard enough to make me cry out. He presses hard down on my knees, dominant, in control, reminding me that he is—always—calling the shots.
I lift my head, reaching forward to touch him, but he pushes me back onto the mattress. His tongue darts inside my cleft and then flicks my erect clit. It’s so sudden it almost hurts, as every nerve ending responds. I feel myself go wet.
“You’re always ready for me,” Duke murmurs. “That’s my good girl.”
He inserts two fingers into my pussy and nuzzles his face up against my skin, working his mouth in tandem as he slides in and out of me. I try to writhe beneath him, but his free hand presses against my pelvis, holding me in place. My nerve endings are like livewires.
He doesn’t slow and my orgasm builds with increasing speed. “You’re going to make me come,” I pant.
Duke continues to fuck me with his fingers, his mouth. My pussy clenches. I hold tight, allowing the orgasm to build, until finally it crests. My scream turns my throat raw, and still Duke doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking juices, his fingers still inside me. My clit throbs.
I lay splayed out on the mattress, gasping for breath.
Duke stands and unzips his pants. His cock springs free. He grips it in his hand, stroking, teasing, leaving me anxious for more. My mouth goes dry. “I want to touch you.”
He shakes his head.
His eyes go dark. He finishes undressing in a hurry and grabs my hips, yanking me to the edge of the bed. He positions his cock against my pussy and slides the tip across my slit before plunging deep inside me.
My eyes widen, my cheeks flush. He’s so big, so thick, there’s hardly room for him to move.
“You’re so tight, Hailey,” he says, grunting.
His shadow falls over me as the sun dips behind the skyscrapers and sends the city into dusk. My eyes glass over with each thrust. His hips move like a jackhammer, drilling his cock into my pussy with increasing speed.
I’m gasping for breath, hanging onto the sheets, when I feel him tense. And now I’m coming too, almost despite myself.
Duke throws his head back, thrusts, and screams my name.
Chapter 10
I’ve barely caught my breath before Duke begins to re-dress. Socks, briefs, trousers—his movements are mechanical. Cold. I pull the sheets up over my chest and watch, working hard not to cry. No matter how much I crave his touch, I shouldn’t have allowed this. Not today. Now more than ever it’s clear I’m nothing more than a convenient fuck. You’re so much better than this, Hailey.
I clear my throat. “I was offered a job today.”
Duke scoffs. “You have a job.”
His dismissal stings. “You mean as a glorified secretary at Kingston Industries?”
Duke tenses. “For someone your age, that should be enough.”
Now I’m pissed. It’s bad enough that he comes to my apartment and uses me for sex, but to keep bringing up my age? That act is getting old.
“I want out of my contract.”
He turns his head and scowls. “So you can go work at some two-bit company? We’ve talked about this. I’m not releasing you.”
“FuturePlay is not some two-bit company,” I fire back.
Duke chuckles. “They wouldn’t touch you with a fire hose. Not with the scandal hanging over you.”
Technically, the scandal is tied to Kingston Industries since he bought us out, but in Duke’s current mood, that distinction will fall on deaf ears. “Alan Prentiss called me himself.”
Duke’s jaw twitches. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
To be fair, he didn’t give me much chance to talk, but that isn’t the only reason I’ve waited to discuss the call. With each passing second, it’s evident I mean nothing to Duke. I don’t just want out of the company, I want out of this too. Whatever this is.
Or maybe I just want to hurt him. Right now, I don’t care which is the real answer.
“What matters is that I want to do real work, not fetch your coffee and do your filing.” Nor do I want to be your BDSM sex slave, I consider saying. Instead, I keep things professional—which is how I should have played this from the beginning. “FuturePlay has an opportunity and I want to take it.”
“Prentiss probably wants to fuck you,” Duke spits out.
My adrenaline spikes. “Fuck you.” I tear off the sheets and wiggle into my leggings. Throw on my tank. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Duke’s face grows red, his expression darkens. “Hot date with Prentiss?”
Anger, resentment and deep hurt ball at the base of my throat. Tears spring to my eyes but I swat them away with the back of my hand. I march toward the front door and throw it open. “Go.”
Duke shrugs into his jacket. “Prentiss is just trying to scoop you so he can have one up on me,” he says. “It’s business, Hailey. And he’s as cut throat as they come.”
“Get off your high horse,” I say, snarling. My back straightens, even though I’m close to crumbling. I have to get Duke to leave before I have a meltdown. “Not everything revolves around you.”