by Measha Stone
Kendrick eyed him silently for a minute, then a grin broke out across his face. "No. But I know how you play. Erin's—"
"If you tell me again Erin is fragile, I'll punch you." After seeing her bound to his bedpost, dark red marks across her breasts from his crop, and begging him to fuck her even harder, he couldn't fathom anyone thinking that woman weak.
Kendrick's eyes narrowed, and he gave his head a slight shake. "No. I'm beginning to think she's not as in need of rescue as I had originally thought."
"I'll remind her about Friday. She’ll be there." Bradley nodded. "I have to get a hold of Alex, have you talked to him?" Bradley changed the subject as they stepped out into the humid air of August.
"Not really, but Alyssa is back at his place. So, if he's not at work, I assume he's home."
"He needs to give that advertising crap up," Bradley mused, then looked at his watch again. His attorney would be meeting him at the club shortly. "I'll give him a call."
"I know you are seeing a side of Erin I haven't, but if you hurt her—"
"Don't." Bradley put a hand in the air between them as the elevator doors slid open.
Kendrick snorted. "Are you just having fun with her?"
"At first, I thought that's what we were doing." He slid his key card into the elevator and punched the floor for the club. "But I think it's gone past that."
Kendrick nodded. "I know that feeling." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Just tread carefully. I don't want her hurt."
The door to the club opened, and Bradley gave Kendrick one final glare before heading toward his office. Knowing the warning came from love of a friend didn't diminish the irritation any, but he wasn't going to argue with him.
"See you Friday?" Kendrick called down the hall as Bradley reached his office door.
"Definitely." Bradley waved a hand without turning around and pushed the door open to his office.
Alex and Alyssa both turned to greet him from the armchairs situated in the corner of his office. "Bradley."
He stifled the heavy sigh that simmered in his chest and forced himself to take a neutral stance. The attorney would be arriving any minute, and the last thing he wanted was to go over his relationship with Erin with any more of her friends. She hadn't even told them about leaving Jonathan yet.
"Look, if you're here to talk about Erin, I can't. My attorney is on his way, and you should be in on that meeting, Alex. So, we can talk about her on Friday."
"Erin? My Erin?" Alex's brows furrowed. His eyes darkened. "What about Erin? Do you know where she is? Jessica said she's gone into hiding or something. Kelly said she showed up here at the auction."
Bradley let out the sigh he'd been holding. Well…shit. Alyssa rested a hand on his arm and shot Bradley a sympathetic smile.
"Alex, Erin is a big girl. She said she's fine. Let's let her be until she's ready to let everyone in on what's going on."
Alex took a deep breath but continued to glare at Bradley. "Is she okay?"
"Of course, she is," Bradley said. What the hell sort of reputation had he made for himself for everyone to keep worrying about her well-being after finding out she was with him? "Look, she'll explain everything on Friday." He ran his hand over his head and reminded himself he needed to get his business in order. "Now, what can I help you two with? Alyssa, since you've forgiven this asshole for whatever he did, I assume you'll be coming back to work? I know Brandon would be eternally grateful." Bradley took the third seat in the circle of chairs, facing his guests.
"That's what we're here about." Alex shifted in his seat. "I know we talked about the two of us being owners. However, Alyssa is interested in buying in as well. She won't buy in your portion. She's going to buy ten percent of my half. You'll be the majority owner."
Bradley stared at Alex for a moment, then let out a little laugh. "You know most assholes just buy flowers for the lady they've offended."
"He's not giving it to me." Alyssa stared at him pointedly. "I'm buying it."
Bradley gave a nod. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." He dug out his phone after feeling it vibrate. Nothing. Erin hadn't checked in with him. Not that she needed to. He wasn't that controlling. But it would have been nice to hear from her. "That's fine with me. I don't have any issue with it. Alyssa knows her way around here, and like I said, Brandon will probably piss himself from the joy of her returning."
He shot Erin a quick message asking if she'd be home for dinner, then looked at his watch. "Well, I guess we'll go over all the particulars with my attorney, then we can present our offer to the douchebags tomorrow. I have the numbers from my accountant, and it looks like we should be able to buy them out with very little actual cash exchange."
"You bought Erin at the auction." Alex switched the topic so quickly, Bradley needed a second to adjust.
"Yes." The knock on the door could not have come at a better time. The afternoon would be spent in business discussion, and he could finally put the topic of Erin out of his mind.
Mostly.
Chapter 14
"The design is good, but I think bolder colors." Sean placed the board on Erin's work desk. "No primaries, bolder." Erin looked up at the newest account she'd been given and grinned. She hoped it was a warm smile, because inside, she wanted to throttle him. She'd already given him five different layouts, all ranging in soft pastels to the bold he now claimed he wanted. He'd shot each of them down.
The project should have been simple, a brochure for Sean's floor and tile store. However, Sean didn't seem to know what he wanted. She could relate to that.
She'd been going back and forth about the house, Bradley, and the mysterious letter that had been delivered. Too many decisions at one time, and her mind was running on fumes. Sean only made the fog heavier.
"Bolder. Got it. I'll get a new proof to you by tomorrow."
With a nod, he walked out of her small office, which she would swear at one time probably served as the broom closet. She plopped down in her chair and rubbed her temples. The pain in her head wouldn't ease up, even after three doses of aspirin and several cups of coffee.
"Hey there." Brenda, her assistant, walked in carrying a large envelope. "This was dropped off for you at the desk downstairs."
Erin thanked her and took it from her. She recognized the handwriting right away. "Brenda? Did anyone notice the person who dropped it off?"
"It was weird. Charlie said some kid walked into the lobby and gave it to him. The kid couldn't have been more than twelve." Brenda shrugged and fiddled with the earpiece in her ear. She pressed the button and walked out of the office, answering the call.
Erin looked down at the envelope and sighed. She still hadn't decided what to do, and the situation just continued to barrel down at her. Sliding her envelope opener through the crease, she held her breath.
One piece of paper. No photographs.
On his home computer, you will find his financial portfolio. Copy this file and have it ready by Saturday. I will contact you with further instructions about the drop.
Her phone danced on the top of her work desk, making her jump. She glanced at her screen. Bradley. It was a simple question: would she be home for dinner. She needed to tell him about these letters. It involved him, it would be the right thing to do. Responding that she'd try, she turned her phone off and tucked it into her back pocket. She needed to think, to process everything.
"Jonathan's on line one for you, are you in?" Brenda's voice broke through the phone speaker.
"No." Erin hadn't meant to shout, but there really was only so much a person could handle at one time. Deciding she needed to get some fresh air, she grabbed her purse and headed out. She informed Brenda she would be gone for the afternoon and made her way out onto Michigan Avenue. She eyed a salon she'd been debating on trying for some time and made the decision to go for it. She'd deal with everything else later.
The spa appointment took a lot longer than she'd planned. At first, she'd been glad they had a cancellatio
n and could fit her in as a walk in. Instead of only getting her haircut, she decided to go all out and get a massage as well. By the time she was done getting all gussied up, it was well past six. Bradley would be home way before her.
He'd taken to doing most of his work during the day and going into the club for only a few short hours at night. If at all. When the cab pulled up to the front door of his house, she could feel the tension seeping out. George walked out of the garage and gave her a pointed look as she thanked the cab driver.
"It was faster to grab a cab."
The older man raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the door. "Faster, or easier? Taking a cab didn't require you making a phone call to him, and that's what you were trying to avoid." She stared at him for a moment, deliberating his mind reading skills.
"Is he angry?" She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and looked toward the closed door. New flower pots had been placed on the steps leading up to the house. All of her favorites in each pot.
"He is rarely angry, Ms. Erin." George turned to go back into the garage. "Your new hairstyle is very becoming, by the way," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door.
With a shaky breath, she stepped up the last two stairs and slid her key into the door. Bradley had insisted she have one for the week. She kept hoping to get him out of her system, but he sat in her thoughts all day long. Spending the night away from him the previous night hadn't settled her nerves like she had hoped. It only made her more on edge and restless, because he wasn't nestled in bed with her and covering her with his heavy arms and firm legs.
She needed to tell him about the letters. He deserved to know.
Pizza. He'd ordered pizza for dinner. She groaned inwardly, making her way to the kitchen. One of her favorite things to do was to make his meals for him, and he'd ordered pizza because she hadn't been home to cook, and she hadn't even messaged him to let him know where she was.
He sat at the island of the kitchen, eating a piece of the pizza. His eyes locked on her the moment she stepped into the kitchen, and he dropped the slice back into the box.
"I'm sorry." She put her purse on the counter and slid onto a stool at the island, facing him.
"Is this how you apologize?" His dark tone surprised her, and she quickly saw the stern Dominant in his expression. That had been exactly the wrong way to apologize. They'd spent several hours over the course of the week going over every position he deemed acceptable for different situations, and sitting across from him was not where he expected her when she gave an apology.
She stepped off the stool and moved to a cleared area of the kitchen. Slowly, she pulled her blouse over her head, and slipped her bra off. The cool air of the room drew her nipples to attention, but she did her best to ignore it. His eyes were on her, watching every move she made. With as much grace as she could muster, she unbuttoned her slacks and shoved them down her hips, kicking them to the side. Hooking her thumbs into the thin straps of her panties, she pulled them down and placed them with the rest of her clothing.
She chanced a glance at him. He sat with his arms over his chest, watching with an almost bored expression. Her actions got her into the mess, she couldn't blame him for not being thrilled about it. Trying to do her best, she moved down to her knees and pressed her hands to the cold tile of the floor. She lowered herself until her breasts touched the ground and her forehead rested on the floor. Arms out to her sides, she crossed her feet at the ankles. Hoping she had managed the "T" look he had taught her, she began her apology.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
"For what?" His voice felt distant, rooms away even though he was only a few feet from where she lay.
"I'm sorry for not responding quickly to your messages yesterday, and for not being home this evening without telling you what time to expect me." She closed her eyes, no need to stare at the white tile beneath her. The coolness of the floor did help to alleviate some of the flush of her cheeks. "And I'm sorry I wasn't here to cook your dinner."
The grating sound of the stool scraping against the floor as he moved echoed in the room. Heart racing, she felt a desperate need to see him. He didn't leave her waiting. His fingertips touched the top of her head.
"You cut your hair." A few strands were lifted. She imagined him wrapping it around his finger.
"Yes, Sir." Would he be upset she hadn't asked permission? Was she supposed to?
"It's curly now." He dropped the lock of hair and moved lower on her body, his fingers sending chills down her back as he made his way over her torso.
"Because it's short." Did he not like it? The weight of her hair had kept the natural curls at bay, leaving only waves. Now, without the weight, she sported a head full of soft curls.
"Mmmhmm." His hand rested on her ass check, not moving. "As much as I love your cooking, I don't expect you to cook every meal. You have a life and a job. I do, however, expect an answer when I ask you if you'll be home. And if you are held up, I expect to know." His nails bit into her as he curled his fingers, but she kept silent. "Now, what kept you away yesterday?" He went back to smoothing his hand over her ass, rubbing away the burn his nails had left behind.
Yesterday. "I told you, I was tired."
"I know that." He gave her ass a warning slap. "I want to know why. What happened?"
She took a steadying breath. Could she tell him? She didn't have the energy to go into everything that had happened, and if she told him Jonathan had been to the house and about the pictures, he'd want more information. He wouldn't let her take care of it all herself.
"Erin." His nails dug into her again. "If you are trying to figure out what to tell me and what not to tell me, let me clear up the situation for you: tell me everything. We don't keep secrets from each other. Ever. And you don't fucking lie to me." He dragged his hand over her ass, scratching her. She wiggled, and he gave her half a dozen hard smacks to her thighs.
"Okay!" She took several deep breaths, keeping herself in position while he began to run his fingers over her ass again. "When I stopped back at the house, Jonathan showed up. He wants to put the house on the market right now. We argued, but he's giving me a few more days."
"Do you want to sell it?"
"I don't know." She wanted to turn around, to see his eyes, to feel his arms around her—not stare at the damn floor while having the conversation. "Can I turn over now?"
"No." He stepped over her, and she could feel him near her, hovering over her. "What else happened?" His hands gripped her hair, yanking her head back. His face was only a mere inch away, blue eyes focused on hers. "Be a good girl and tell me everything, and you'll be rewarded. Be a bad girl and keep your secrets, and you'll be used and put to bed hungry for more than just your dinner."
She closed her eyes, but only briefly, then took a deep breath. "I got a letter. Pictures of us from the auction."
"What?" His eyes narrowed. "Someone had pictures?"
"Yes, of us leaving the club." She swallowed hard. "I didn't know if I should tell you, or what to do. Another one showed up at work today."
"At work?" He sounded pissed. "What did you do? Did you see who brought it?" Her scalp burned from his grip, but she continued to answer his questions.
"No, Brenda said some kid dropped it at security downstairs."
"What did you do then?"
He was going to hate her answer, but she forged ahead anyway. "I took the rest of the afternoon off. I went and got my haircut and had a massage. It all took longer than I thought it would, that's why I'm late."
A darkness entered his gaze. Not of arousal. "Give me the letters." He released her hair with a little shove and stepped away from her. She managed to get to her feet and to her purse without tripping. Her hands shook as she handed the two envelopes over to him.
He glared at her while opening them and pulling out the contents. When he walked away to read the letters, she folded her arms over her stomach.
"Were you going to tell me about these, or was it because you
missed dinner that you found yourself in this position?" He didn't look at her. Maybe he was too angry look at her. Maybe he'd toss her out.
"I was going to tell you. As soon as I figured out what to do."
He was at her side in seconds. "Figured out what to do?" His voice hadn't raised, but it still sent shivers through her. "What did you think you were going to do? Were you thinking…?"
"No!" She turned to face him. "I wasn't going to get the file." No matter what he thought, she couldn't let him think that.
"I didn't think that. There is no such file on any computer," he chastised her. "Were you thinking to find this guy on your own is what I was going to ask you."
"Oh." She looked away, over his shoulder. The summer sun still hadn't set, and she could see clearly into the yard. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Seems to be the theme for tonight."
She brought her gaze to his and took a long breath. "It would seem so." She rolled her shoulders back and dropped her hands to her sides. He had every right to be upset with her. Those envelopes involved him.
"Does your building have security cameras outside?"
"Probably. But Charlie said it was a kid."
"The guy probably just stopped him on the street and offered him a couple bucks to deliver it to your building. There might be something on the tapes. I'll call Kendrick later and ask him to see what he can do."
"Why would someone want your portfolio? I mean, I know why, but why go through me? And why is he dragging it all out?" He seemed okay with talking about the situation at hand and not her prior actions, and she was going to take full advantage.
"I don't know. But I don't want you involved. If you get another one of these, you give it to me right away." His tone didn't suggest he wanted an open dialogue about it either.
"The first one was brought to my house," she whispered. "How could he know where I live? Who I am? If you do something, he'll send those photos out."
Bradley flipped through the photos. "No, he won't. He won't know I'm involved. Now, about Jonathan…"