Love or not, he still irritated the shit out of me at times. Especially after I’d spent the better part of the past two days sealed in a car with him.
“Whether or not I kick your ass out and make you walk the rest of the way,” I told him, my drawl thicker than usual due to my exhausted state.
His head jerked toward me and I could see the concern there. He was trying to determine how close to the rocky edge of sanity I was hovering.
I could admit it. I was cranky. I was tired. And I was damn sick of being in this damn car. I needed to stretch my legs and more coffee certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Case chuckled as he pressed the button to lift his seat. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” His hand slid over and patted my thigh. “I’ll keep you company the rest of the way.”
If you knew Case, you’d understand the threat those words implied.
“It’s twelve thirty,” he noted. “I thought you said we’d be there by now.”
I cast a quick look his way. His dark hair was as pristine as it always was. No bedhead for him. Then again, Case didn’t have any hair to muss because he kept it military short for whatever reason. His iridescent green eyes were filled with amusement, as always.
“You know, if it weren’t for the exquisite blow jobs, I would’ve kicked your ass to the curb a long time ago,” I huffed even as I grinned. His blow jobs were exquisite and the rest of him wasn’t too bad, either.
He leaned his head back and turned it my direction, those hooded eyes fixed on me. “I do give good blow jobs, huh?”
My cock certainly thought so, proven by the way it was hardening in my jeans. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Or yours?” He slid his hand up my thigh, his fingers brushing my cock through the denim. “Never mind.” He chuckled. “Too late.”
I instantly thought of the ruthless Sadist who had become a fixture in my head for the past … month? Two? Ever since that damn flight from Dallas to Chicago when Zeke Lautner commanded us to strip and kneel before him, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head. He was taking up too damn much space, taunting me with that evil smirk and those Prince of Darkness black eyes.
Perhaps some people might consider my fascination with the six-foot-eight-inch beast of a man a form of cheating. Technically Case and I were in an exclusive relationship, so I could understand how it appeared from someone else’s viewpoint.
However, I wasn’t cheating. Nor was my brain.
Did I mention my boyfriend was quite taken by the giant Sadist as well? Well, he was. As much as I was, in fact. And neither of us was jealous, because there was nothing to be jealous of. Zeke Lautner was a man who could give Case and me something we couldn’t give each other. He was also one of the reasons we were eager to get to Chicago.
“When’s the moving truck gonna be here?” Case asked, arching his back as he stretched that damn T-shirt in a manner that had my cock stirring again.
“Not till next Thursday. Hope you brought your toothbrush.”
Case scrubbed a hand over his face, the rasp of his stubble loud in the car. “I only used yours because I couldn’t find mine. I told you, it’s in my bag somewhere. But I didn’t pack a razor.” He glanced my way again. “Gonna need to go to the store.”
“Not until we’re in the apartment. You can go wherever you need to after that.”
As for me, I was going to sleep for a couple of days. Screw shaving.
Our belongings were being brought via the boys with the big trucks. They had everything we owned, including Case’s Ford F250. It had taken some finagling, but I’d finally convinced him we couldn’t drive the gas guzzler across the country. He didn’t like that I was right, but he’d finally accepted it.
At that point, Case and I had packed up the necessities, loaded everything into my Chevy Traverse, and hit the open road. After one night in a cheap motel with a crappy mattress and an equally crappy continental breakfast of stale biscuits, overcooked bacon, and green bananas, we were on the final leg of this journey. I could see the Chicago skyline in the distance.
“I really don’t want to live in a damn apartment,” Case griped, not for the first time. “When we checked it out, I felt like the walls were closing in.”
“Not much of a choice. They offered us free rent.” Who could pass that up? More importantly, who would pass that up?
“I know. But I’m claustrophobic, Brax. I need air.”
He always did have a flair for the dramatic.
“There’s air in an apartment. And you are not claustrophobic.”
“Stale air, maybe. And I’ve got an aversion to concrete. I’ll lose my shit living in the city.”
“Which is it? You can’t have both.”
“Sure I can,” he said firmly. “I hate the city.”
I sighed heavily, gripping the wheel with both hands as we slowed to a snail’s pace in the thick traffic.
We’d had this conversation a dozen times since we were offered this opportunity. Honestly, I’d thought being Trent Ramsey’s personal chef was quite an accomplishment. Cooking for an A-list actor wasn’t exactly my dream job, but I didn’t have any complaints. The guy paid me handsomely, and he was easy to work for, not to mention easy on the eyes. On top of that, he valued what I had to offer him. He wasn’t the bologna-and-cheese kind of guy, that was for damn sure. And because of all the time I’d spent with him, he’d become a good friend to both Case and me over the years.
Needless to say, it had come as quite a shock when the partners of Chatter PR Global informed me they wanted me to be the head chef at a new restaurant they were opening. Apparently, owning one of the biggest public relations firms in the world wasn’t enough for these guys. They were venturing off in many different directions, and somewhere along the way, they’d come up with the idea of opening a restaurant in downtown Chicago, cuisine to be determined by me.
Who the fuck would turn that down? This was what I’d spent most of my adult life dreaming about. A restaurant of my own.
And to sweeten the pot, they’d offered Case—who happened to be Trent Ramsey’s personal trainer/nutritionist—a job managing the gym they were installing on the second and third floors, in the same building where Chatter PR Global resided. It was supposed to be some fancy place that served protein smoothies to go along with bicep curls, sprinting on the treadmill, and pruning in the sauna. They would be open to the public and the hundreds of residents of that building would get free memberships.
Of course, accepting a couple of dream jobs had been easier considering Trent was the one who set it all up in the first place. With Trent officially bringing his latest business venture—his own talent agency—to Chi-Town, the man wouldn’t be far away. I seriously doubted the partners would’ve pilfered us otherwise. While Trent insisted we’d gotten the opportunities based on our own merit, I knew it didn’t hurt that Trent had gone into business with the firm.
And until the day the restaurant opened, I would continue my role as Trent’s personal chef while I gave my two cents on what needed to go into the elaborate kitchen of the new restaurant.
Just the thought made some of the exhaustion evaporate, filling me with a sense of genuine excitement. I was ready for the next phase of our lives. I looked forward to the idea of exploring a new city with the man I loved.
And maybe, if we were lucky, we’d get to explore a few other things as well.
TWO
ZEKE
“TELL ME WHAT IT IS you’re looking for,” I said around the frustration coming to a rapid boil in my gut.
“That’s not my department,” Everett Knowles the Third—who the fuck introduces himself like that?—said, his snooty tone wearing on me. “I’m merely passing on the information. I was told we need to enhance our firewalls. I found you through a Google search.”
Great. The guy knew how to use the Internet at least. I wanted to ask the smug bastard to explain to me what he thought a firewall was. Fortunately for him, I didn’t have the patience for i
t today.
With a deep sigh, I sat up straight in my chair and tapped on the keyboard. “I can get by there in a couple of weeks. My schedule’s booked next week, but the week after looks good. Probably Wednesday or Thursday afternoon.”
“Probably?” He sounded skeptical.
Did I stutter? Was I slurring my words?
I didn’t respond because it would’ve ended badly.
“I’m an executive here,” the snooty man said, his tone translating to: I am God in a cheap brown suit. “I don’t have time for probably.”
“How about never?” I suggested, tired of this pissing match. It was obvious the executive at the five-person temp agency thought far too highly of himself.
There was a brief pause followed by, “Okay. Wednesday it is. I’ll let the boys know you’re coming.”
“Should I ask for you?” God, tell me I won’t be working with this jackass.
“Oh, heavens no. Like I said, I’m busy.”
Yep, busy keeping your chair warm with your lazy ass.
“Ask for Peter Jones,” he said. “He’s the one who asked me to call.”
I had to wonder whether or not Peter Jones knew how to use a phone. We could’ve accomplished a hell of a lot more if he did.
I jotted down the name on my notepad. “What’s his number? I’ll call him beforehand to ensure I’m not wasting my time.”
The man cleared his throat as though I couldn’t possibly have said that. They didn’t pay me the big bucks to be some wannabe bigwig’s pansy-assed bitch. If I was going to put forth the effort, I would ensure they knew who was in charge.
“If this isn’t something you’re equipped to handle, Mr. Lautner, perhaps I should speak to your supervisor.”
“I am my supervisor,” I said, keeping my tone firm, the rough edge noticeable. “But if you’d rather call someone else, I’ve got plenty of shit to do. You were the one who called me, remember?”
I could tell you, Chatter PR Global did not hire me for my customer service skills. I was good at what I did—cybersecurity—and the companies I’d already brought on board in the short time I’d been here knew that. However, they learned quickly that I didn’t waste time with the political bullshit. Ask for my supervisor and you’d get my size-sixteen boot right up your ass.
Thankfully, the man wised up and rattled off the knowledgeable one’s number.
“Great. I’ll call him and set something up.”
“Fine.”
I didn’t bother with the social niceties, either, which was why I hung up the phone and leaned back in my chair.
“Tank, I think I’m gonna need some stress relief tonight, boy. Dichotomy’s calling my name. You’re gonna be home by yourself for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”
My four-year-old yellow Labrador retriever lifted his head from where it rested on the couch cushion.
I thought back to my breakfast conversation with Jamie that morning. I’d reiterated my point several more times before we parted ways, but I got the feeling she was going to defy me. Perhaps I should lock her in the house with Tank. They could keep each other company.
Tank’s nose twitched as though he could read my thoughts.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get dinner first,” I told him.
His big head flopped back onto the cushion. Provided I fed him and spent at least two hours a day throwing the ball, Tank didn’t usually complain.
“That’s what I thought.” I picked up my pen and spun it between my fingers.
I spent a lot of time talking to my dog and I didn’t apologize for it. Tank had come into my life when he was little more than a sack of fur and fumbling paws. I hadn’t been in the market for a dog when my kid sister showed up on my doorstep cuddling him close. According to Jamie, she’d found him wandering our grandfather’s neighborhood during one of her weekend trips home from college. I found it damn near impossible to tell the girl no, so I had told the then twenty-year-old that I would allow Tank to be my best friend.
That was how Tank and I came about.
Turned out, Jamie hadn’t found Tank anywhere. She’d gone in search of him specifically for me after my shitty breakup, hoping Tank could fill the void no one else could. Since she knew me well, she’d concocted the story to appeal to my softer side—she insisted I had one no matter how much argument I gave her. By the time I learned of her evil, evil ways, Tank and I had been together for two years and already bonded.
Now, I wouldn’t know what to do without him.
A knock sounded on my door and I looked up to see Benjamin Snowden—one of the partners in the company—standing in the doorway.
“What’s up?” I asked, spinning around to face him.
He stepped inside and passed over a sheet of paper. “I’ve got a new client who’s interested in talking to you.”
“Please tell me it’s not the self-appointed CEO,” I grumbled as he set the paper down.
His dark eyebrows shot downward, his forehead creasing. “No. Why?”
I smirked. “No offense, but I prefer to talk to those who know what they’re doing.”
Ben chuckled. “I assure you, the CEO—and he’s not self-appointed—knows what he’s doing. However, he also knows that he pays people to handle this sort of thing.” He motioned toward the paper. “That’s the head of their cybersecurity division. They had an incident recently and they’d like a second opinion.”
Fuck. I really needed to hire some people to handle this shit for me. I’d been given the go-ahead by the big dogs, but I hadn’t yet found the time. Plus, I didn’t care for people all that much and hiring a few would mean I’d have to deal with them.
“He local?” I asked, glancing down at the chicken scratch scrawled across the paper.
“Valparaiso, Indiana,” Ben said as he squatted down to pat Tank, who had ambled over to see who I was talking to. As he rubbed Tank’s wide head, Ben’s eerie gold eyes shot up to my face. “I heard Addison’s been sneaking him treats.”
I laughed. “Yep. She’s bribing him. I told her it wouldn’t work.”
“I wouldn’t bet money on that,” Ben said as he got to his feet. “She’s quite gifted at getting what she wants.”
Most submissives were, I’d learned.
“You gonna be here this afternoon?” he asked.
“Planned on it. Why?”
“We’ve got a contractor coming by for the restaurant. I’ve got a meeting at three, Mr. Parker’s out of town until tomorrow, and Langston and Landon are cutting out at lunch. Need someone to meet with them.”
“Yeah. Sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Probably nothing. Brax should be here by then, but I’ll need someone to keep them in line. While we’ve given Brax carte blanche, I need a level head there to ensure he doesn’t go overboard.”
I nodded my head even as my cock jumped to attention at the mere mention of the cowboy’s name.
“He in town again?” I asked casually.
“This time for good,” Ben confirmed. “They’re driving in today.” He glanced at his watch. “Should be stopping by to get the keys to the apartment any minute now. Speaking of,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “Think you could pass these over to them when they get here?”
He held out a key ring that had two gold keys dangling from it.
“I promised Addison I’d take her to lunch. She tends to get antsy when Mr. Parker’s out of the office.”
I wasn’t sure Addison was the only submissive who got antsy when their Master was away. Ben wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought he was. The switch had a soft spot for both his Dom and his submissive.
“Yep.” I reached for the keys, letting the ring slide down my finger before twirling them. “I’ll make sure they get them.”
Ben’s golden gaze met mine. “Be nice to them, Zeke.”
A wicked smirk pulled at my lips before I could hold it back. “You’ve got my word. I won’t give ’em anything they don’t deserve.”
Ben rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder if they knew what they were in for taking these jobs.”
Oh, they knew, all right. Because I’d mentioned it last Monday, when they were here to scope out the apartment Chatter had so graciously offered them. I was oddly intrigued that they’d actually accepted the offers. That meant they would be here indefinitely.
My body hardened when I thought about that day.
Holding Tank’s leash with a firm grip, I waited until the elevator emptied before I stepped on and punched the button to get me up to the thirty-second floor. Just as the doors were closing, I heard someone yell for me to hold it.
I didn’t. No one had ever accused me of being chivalrous. They could wait for the next one.
Before the doors could completely shut, a hand reached in to stop them.
After briefly considering breaking those interrupting fingers, I sighed as I took a step to the side, offering some room. It didn’t make much difference. My frame filled the majority of the small, cramped space no matter where I stood.
The two men who appeared when the doors fully retracted had my entire body humming with approval. I wasn’t sure what it was about the cowboy and the pretty boy that heated my blood and made me want to do wickedly dirty things to them, but there was something. I’d felt it since the day I encountered them on Trent Ramsey’s private jet. The two masochists had somehow wriggled into my subconscious and it’d been hell not thinking about them since.
“Zeke,” the pretty boy said as he stepped on and moved to the opposite side of the elevator.
I didn’t respond.
The cowboy wasn’t quite as chatty. After he punched the button for the thirty-third floor, his emerald-green eyes lifted to my face but instantly dropped. I had to wonder if he was thinking about what happened on Friday night, when I’d caught them fucking in the shower at the club.
The doors finally closed, sealing the three of us inside. Tank whimpered and I glanced down to see his tail wagging so hard his ass was bouncing back and forth.
“Greet them, boy,” I ordered the dog.
Tank was instantly on his feet as he moved closer. I watched as both men smiled widely before showering my dog with stupid greetings and full-body pats. It would’ve helped if they hadn’t taken to my dog. I didn’t need a reason to like them and the fact they liked Tank didn’t help.
Their Ruthless Sadist (Office Intrigue, 5) Page 3