El Diablo (The Devil): The Good Ol' Boys Spin Off

by M. Robinson

  Dismissing me. Again.

  I took a deep, calming breath, before following after him. The man was like Jekyll and Hyde, doing something so meaningful and loving for me, then shoving me away, when all I wanted to do was thank him. His office door slammed shut before I could catch up to him. I stood in front of the wooden space for a few seconds, flexing my fists at my sides, fuming. He needed to step down off his damn high horse and treat me with some respect. I knew in the back of my mind this wasn’t going to end well. But I didn’t give a shit. Nothing was going to stop me from barging into his office, a replay of a failed attempt all those years ago.

  I swung open the door, smacking it into the wall with a loud thud. He was sitting in his chair, his elbows placed on the desk with his head resting in between his strong hands. He didn’t even startle, as if he was expecting me to trail in after him. He peered up with a menacing glare, I knew stepping foot in his office without being told to enter would piss him off even more. I was treading over the imaginary line of his boundaries, and I didn’t care.

  Not for one second.

  “What is your fucking problem?” I hissed, frustrated he was being this way with me, yet again. He was ruining everything he had done for me that day which pissed me off more than anything. “You’re giving me the worst case of whiplash known to man, Martinez.”

  “Lexi, don’t,” he growled in a cold and detached tone.

  “Don’t what? Huh? Don’t talk to you? Don’t look at you? Don’t touch you? What can’t I fucking do, now? All you do is bark orders at me! I’m sick of it! I’m not your dog! I just wanted to thank—”

  His chair slid back as his fists connected with his desk beneath him. “Don’t fuck with me! I am not in the mood for your bullshit! This is your last warning, sweetheart. Get off my cock. Don’t fucking provoke me! Mind your own damn business. Turn around and go put on one of your tutus I bought you, and twirl your ass out of my fucking office. Now!” he roared, the veins in his neck protruding.

  I jerked back like he had hit me. “You’re a fucking asshole!” I screamed, grabbing the door behind me and slamming it. Locking myself in his personal space. Letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere. “You leave me here by myself, all fucking day, for days at a time with no one to talk to except your damn maid! Yet, here I am. Trusting you, thinking about you, and wanting you to fucking acknowledge the connection we have! I know you feel it too! Try to deny it all you want, but you wouldn’t have ever done what you did for me today, if you didn’t care!”

  He just sat there with his body hunched over his desk. Anger rolling off his back as his chest heaved. I roughly ran my hands through my hair, trying to compose myself but it was no fucking use. I was too pissed, too hurt, too over all the bullshit he kept putting me through.

  “I just wanted to say thank you! What you did for me today… that room… my own space…” I fervently shook my head, my emotions getting the best of me. I could feel them taking over. I shoved them all the away not wanting him to see me cry. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before. No one has ever cared! Today was one of the best days of my life, and you’re shitting all over it! You’re fucking ruining it, you bastard! You’re hot! You’re cold! I can’t keep up anymore! I want to leave, but then again I don’t… because I’m scared that I’ll never see you again. I hate that! Relying on you. Do you understand how hard that is for me?!” I yelled through my emotions, stomping my foot on the ground, needing to get my point across. Needing him to understand.

  He didn’t move.

  He didn’t say one word.

  He didn’t even blink.

  Nothing.

  That was all I needed to lose my shit.

  “Oh my God!” I was over to his desk in three strides, shoving off everything with as much force as I could muster up. The piles of paperwork, documents, and folders were thrown to the floor in an instant. Leaving nothing in my wake. Knowing he spent hours upon hours organizing and dealing with whatever the fuck was important to him.

  He never once wavered, glaring at me as if I was nothing but a piece of shit standing in front of him.

  “What is it going to take? Huh? To get some sort of reaction out of you!” Slamming my fists down on the desk, gritting through the pain it caused. “What do I have to do for you to show me the man behind the expensive, goddamn suits?!”

  He stood ferociously, taking the desk with him. Flipping it over, causing me to jump back before it landed on me. His chair slammed into the bookshelves behind him, rattling the columns, sending some books crashing to the floor. Chaos erupted all around me. I turned to run, to get the hell away from him, but it was too late. He was already ahead of me, getting in my face, and invading my personal space. Before I knew what was happening as my back connected with the adjacent wall, near his flipped over desk. The force of my own momentum, knocked the wind out of me. My eyes widened as I gasped for air that was available for the taking. Stunned by the drastic turn of events with his dominant, demanding, arrogant presence looming over me like I was nothing but a scared little kitten.

  I never expected what happened next.

  Not. One. Damn. Thing.

  “Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me?” I seethed, inches away from her mouth.

  “I-I-I—”

  Lexi sputtered, her demeanor quickly changing from a lioness to a scared mouse.

  “Didn't I warn you I wasn't in the mood for your fucking bullshit tonight?”

  “I'm sor—”

  “Didn't I tell you not to fucking provoke me? You mess with The Devil, sweetheart, you get the fucking horns.”

  I hated that she was fucking apologizing to me. I hated that she never listened to a goddamn word that came out of my mouth. But most of all I hated that I didn’t give a flying fuck I was scaring the shit out of her. I would never physically hurt her, but she didn’t have to fucking know that.

  Maybe next time she would fucking listen to me.

  She shook her head, back and forth with her lip quivering. Making my cock twitch at the sight of her. Images of me grabbing her by her sinful hips and fucking her up against the wall skated through my mind. I stepped back before I did something I was going to fucking regret. I’d spent most of the previous night, watching her on the security camera I had installed in the gym. I couldn’t take my eyes off the recording. Following the way she flawlessly moved for hours across the hardwood floor with nothing but the music in her head.

  The smile on her face alone was enough for me to make the call to have the equipment cleared out. Replacing it with everything she would need for her own studio.

  A ballet studio in my fucking penthouse.

  I shook away the images, the effect she had on me, the cord I couldn’t fucking cut for the life of me. Unhooking my cufflinks, I rolled up the sleeves of my collared shirt. Unbuckling my belt next, pulling it out of the loops of my slacks with a snap.

  “You want to meet the man behind the expensive, fucking suits?” I mocked in a threatening tone. Tilting my head to the side.

  “What are you—”

  Not allowing her to finish her goddamn question. I raised my hand and swung the belt down on the corner of the desk, right by her leg. She gasped as it hissed through the air. Her eyes widened with fear, instantly cowering back and away from me. I just wanted her to shut the fuck up, and do as she was told. I just wanted to get her out of my mind. She didn’t belong there, no one did.

  I didn't falter.

  “Don’t you dare. You can’t—”

  Gripping my belt tighter, I slapped it again on the wooden floor in front of me. It echoed off the walls. She immediately shuddered, panting profusely. Her tits rising and falling with each stride that brought me closer to her. My grasp white-knuckled the belt the whole time, not letting up on my assault. I leaned forward not being able to control myself any longer. Her vulnerability was becoming too much for me to bear. I dropped the belt to the floor, closing the distance between us.

  Catching
her off guard, my body engulfed her tiny frame, I kissed along her neck and then down her collarbone, as I gritted out, “What, cariño? What can't I fucking do?”

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her body was already betraying her mind, her breathing was pitched, her face flushed, her lips parted. The desire in her eyes was screaming at me to take her in my arms. Give her what she yearned for.

  She wanted me to kiss her.

  She wanted me to touch her.

  She wanted me on top of her.

  Instead I lifted her legs around my waist and I pushed into her, brushing my hard cock against her awaiting pussy so she could feel my need for her. Running my hand up her thigh to her waist, gripping onto her fuckable hips. Imaging how wet I was making her, how much I could make her come and scream out my goddamn name. My lips hovered over hers, on the verge of connecting as she panted profusely.

  I wanted to give into her.

  But, I let her go, causing her to hiss at the sudden loss of my lips against her heated skin. I couldn’t do it. Everything about us was wrong, so instead I said, “That’s what I fucking thought.” And walked away.

  Leaving her with nothing but the insatiable need for my cock.

  I couldn’t believe I’d been with him for a half of a year now. One minute I was furious with him, the next I was terrified of him, and then I wanted him more than I had wanted anything in my entire life. I couldn’t fathom how my emotions could go from one extreme to the next, within seconds.

  Especially when it came to him.

  The night in his office three months ago was a tipping point in our relationship. Some things changed, while others remained the same. He was still cold, and distant, trying to ignore me as the days went on. Little did he know, I could see the subtle looks he gave me more often now than before, the indecision in his eyes. Then one night, he came home earlier than usual from whatever the hell he did during his days.

  When I walked into the dining room to eat my dinner, I stopped dead in my tracks. He was already in there, sitting at the head of the table, waiting for me. For a second, I contemplated turning back around and walking out on his ass. But I stayed, giving him the benefit of the doubt. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t torn with how I felt about seeing him, especially under less extreme circumstances. His eyes were serene, full of stillness again, while a smile played on his lips, a smile I couldn’t overlook.

  He wasn’t dressed any different, still hiding behind the expensive suit. Except this time his suit jacket was missing, his tie had been loosened, hanging low from his neck. The first few buttons of his colored shirt undone, displaying that silver chain necklace I saw the first night he brought me here. And exactly like that night, I was anxious to know what it was.

  He nodded for me to take a seat next to him, breaking my train of thought, but I didn’t obey. I sat on the other end of the long, narrow table, defying him once again. A grin appeared on his face as I took my seat and grabbed my napkin. Strategically placing it in my lap. I ignored him and his stupid handsome face, pretending as if I didn’t care he was there with me.

  When in reality, I did.

  He cleared his throat. “How was your day, Lexi?” he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between us.

  My head perked up. I just about fell out of my chair, shocked by his trivial question. He never took any interest in anything I did during the days. I was left alone. I shrugged as an answer, not ready to give him the time of day. I thought I saw him grin again, but didn’t pay him any mind. He spent most of dinner asking me random questions, and I casually answered them with one word or a nod.

  Who was this man, and what did he do with Martinez?

  I was just happy to see he pulled the stick out of his pompous ass, for a little while, at least. Once I was done with my meal, I threw my napkin on the table and abruptly stood, leaving without even so much as a goodbye. I went to my room, trying to brush off our encounter. Forcing myself to believe it was a one-time thing. I didn’t allow room for hope, I couldn’t take any more disappointments.

  But the next day, there he was again.

  Waiting for me.

  In the following months, it was the same exact routine. Eating together almost every night, sometimes he’d even stick around for dessert. Little by little, I started talking to him more, forgiving him for being who he was.

  The Devil.

  He never answered any of my questions, brushing them off, or changing the subject. Always turning the tables on me. I had no choice but to answer him. They were never personal, just random conversation you would have with a friend. We weren’t friends though.

  To be honest, I didn’t know what we were.

  One night, a few weeks after, he said he wanted to discuss something with me. He was going to allow me to go back to work. But, I had to keep an arsenal of bodyguards with me at all times, since it still wasn’t safe for me to be on my own yet. With one of his limos and drivers taking me to and from work. At that point in time, I would have agreed to anything just to get out of the house. I had no idea how he managed to keep my job open, considering how many ballerinas were trying out for The American Ballet daily. I’m sure it cost him a great deal of money, or some threats.

  Either way, I appreciated it nonetheless.

  I fell back into work like I had never been away. It was so liberating being back in the real world, and not being in the penthouse all day and night. I felt like a new person, and I had Martinez to thank for that. On most days I’d be home from work by five in the afternoon, I always tried to put in a few more hours of dance in my studio and then head down to the dining room in time for dinner.

  With him.

  “I’ll be right back,” I announced, peeking my head into the dining room after work on evening. “I’m going to go change out of my dance clothes real quick.” I went to turn and leave, but a strong, masculine voice stopped me.

  “Don’t,” Martinez ordered.

  I started to notice when I came back to the penthouse after work, he liked seeing me in my ballet attire. He would eye me up and down with a wicked look in his eyes. The same exact one he was staring at me at that moment.

  “It will only take a few minutes. I’m a mess.”

  “I like you a mess,” he simply replied.

  Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment as I stayed in my uniform, even though I was sweaty and wanted nothing more than to shower and change. Just to see the look on his face as I walked over to my usual seat and while we talked over dinner. Sometimes on the weekends, I would catch him leaning against my studio door, watching me with a greedy regard. It was then I realized why he had a couch put in the room. It wasn’t for me. It was for him. Even though he still hadn’t used it, yet. Maybe afraid of what would happen if he actually sat down and watched me rehearse.

  Like with everything in my life, it didn’t take long for me to get ballsy. Once dinner was over, I hated seeing our time come to an end. So, over the past few weeks, I started knocking on his office door after I showered. At first he seemed shocked by my forwardness, but as time passed, I felt as if he eagerly waited and expected it. Leaving the door ajar for me when he never did before.

  The fact I was relying more and more on Martinez wasn’t something I ever overlooked, if anything…

  I welcomed it.

  I knocked on his office door, waiting for him to say I could come in. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit in there with him, given the circumstance of what happened months ago. It was as if it never occurred, his office was as immaculate as it was before we both flipped our shit. The piles of documents, paperwork, and folders he seemed to always have on his desk were now organized on his shelves and in cabinets.

  I laughed when I realized he had moved them.

  “Come in,” I heard him call out through the wooden door.

  I pushed the door open, peaking my head in, smiling when I saw him. He narrowed his eyes, nodding to the seat in front of his desk. I stepped in, shutting the
door behind me. Taking a seat in my usual spot, tucking my legs underneath me. Looking over the new stack of documents, which weren’t there the night before.

  “So… Mr. Martinez, how much work do you have to do tonight?” I teased, much to his amusement. Twirling a strand of my hair around my finger as I bit my bottom lip.

  “Mr. Martinez? I could get used to you calling me that, cariño,” he said, not looking up from his work.

  I rolled my eyes, grinning. Making a mental note to call him that again. “What do you do in here all night anyway?” I asked, reaching for one of his folders. The warning glare he shot me was enough for me to retract my hand back into my lap.

  “I work, Lexi. How do you think I pay for your comfortable lifestyle?”

  It was my turn to narrow my eyes at him. He scoffed, throwing his pen down on the desk, and leaning back in his chair, looking more relaxed.

  “But what do you do?” I added. “You know, besides all the illegal shit.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “There’s more than that?” A smile played on his lips.

  Smartass.

  “Hmmm…” I brought my index finger up to my pursed lips.

  “I can see the wheels spinning in that pretty head of yours. Just say it,” he ordered, reading my mind like he always did. The man had a fucking gift, reading people.

  “Are you aware that they call you 'El Diablo’?”

  He grinned, resting his chin on his steeple hands. He just sat there and flashed me his devilish grin. His tantalizing eyes quickly changed into the predatory stare, I’d grown to yearn for.

  “You like that, don’t you? Being known as 'The Devil'?” I questioned, licking my suddenly dry lips.

  His silence was deafening. His intense glare, like an array of tiny razor blades on my skin. Penetrating deep within my core. Making me feel hot and nervous all at once. I couldn’t fathom how he always had this effect on me with just a simple look.