Strict (Part Three)

by Hannah Ford

  “No.”

  “No?” His eyes narrow, as if no one has ever defied him before.

  “No.” I shake my head and toe my shoe against the sidewalk. I’m not going anywhere with him until he tells me what the fuck is going on here. And if he doesn’t like that, well, then he shouldn’t have come here acting like some kind of crazy, jealous boyfriend. “What’s going on here, Gage?”

  “What’s going on is that you’re out dancing with random men, putting your safety in danger. Now get in the car so I can take you home.”

  “So you can take me home or so you can spank me in the backseat?”

  His hand tightens on the door handle. “Get in the car, Chloe.” His voice is an even lower growl, and like always, I feel it spreading over my skin, warm and prickly, heating me from the inside out.

  A pulse starts between my legs, a delicious thrum that I know is only going to get more intense the longer he stands there and talks to me that way, the longer he looks at me, the longer he’s just here.

  I struggle against it, against this hold he has over me, and take in two deep breaths. I cannot let my physical attraction to him take over. Standing here, even someone seeing me standing here with him, could cost me a lot.

  Maybe everything.

  But before he can answer my question, the door to the bar opens and Grace appears.

  “There you are!” she says. “Sorry, was that guy freaking you out? Because he was definitely a little handsy, so I thought –” She trails off as she sees Gage standing there. Realization dawns on her face. She raises her eyebrows at me, asking me a silent question.

  I wait a beat, giving Gage a chance to answer my question, to say something, to tell me I’m wrong, that he doesn’t want to just take me into the backseat of his car and spank me, get me naked and then act like a jerk to me at work tomorrow.

  But when he doesn’t, when he just stands there, with that brooding, commanding look on his face, the door to his car still open like there’s no way he thinks I’m not getting in, I turn toward Grace and start to walk back into the bar.

  But before I can, Gage grabs my arm again, pulls me close to him. So close that my lips are just a fraction from his, our chests pressed tightly together. My body’s response is instantaneous. Heat, fireworks, butterflies.

  “Please,” he whispers, and when his lips move, they almost brush again mine. “Come with me. We’ll… talk.”

  I search his eyes, looking for any clue that he’s being anything less than truthful. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Gage Stratford is that he doesn’t have time for lying – if he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll tell you straight out that it’s not happening.

  And sure enough, I can’t see any deception in his eyes.

  So I tell Grace I’m fine, that I’ll meet up with her later back at the dorms.

  And then I slide into Gage Stratford’s car, with no idea where we’re going.

  Chapter 6

  GAGE

  We pull out into traffic, and a silence settles over the inside of the car.

  “Where are we going?” she asks finally.

  “To my apartment.”

  “No.”

  My hands tighten on the steering wheel at her words, as I force myself not to pull over, haul her into the backseat, pull her pants down, and spank her until she cries, just like she accused me of wanting to.

  But I told her we would talk.

  Besides, I don’t want to make a habit of taking her to the backseat of my car. There’s not enough room back there to do the things I really want to do to her.

  “You seem to be saying ‘no’ an awful lot tonight, Ms. Cavanaugh.”

  “So?”

  “So you have to understand that you saying ‘no’ to me isn’t compatible with the kind of relationship I want from you.”

  She frowns, chews at her bottom lip, then wipes her palms on her jeans. It’s the first time I’ve seen her dressed down, and I think about what it would feel like to reach up, pull her zipper down, slide my hand over her panties, slip the elastic to the side and push my finger into her tight pussy.

  My cock swells and I shift on the seat.

  “That’s the thing,” she says. “I really have no idea what kind of relationship you want from me.”

  “I’ve made myself perfectly clear, Ms. Cavanaugh.”

  “Really?” she scoffs. “Is that what you think?”

  “Have I not?”

  “That’s not answering the question,” she grumbles. “But no, you haven’t.”

  “That’s why we’re going to my apartment. To talk.” I put a certain emphasis on the word talk, so that she knows exactly what I think of it.

  Traffic comes to a stop, and I take the opportunity to let my eyes linger over her body. The jeans hug her curves, the pink sweater she’s wearing snug against the outline of her full breasts.

  “And rule number one is that you are not go out dressed looking like that.”

  “Looking like what?” She looks down at her outfit.

  “Like a snack for some drunk college kid.”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s jeans and a sweater.”

  “Rule number two, no rolling your eyes at me.”

  “You have a lot of rules.”

  “Not really.” The traffic is still at a standstill, and I drag myself away from ogling her breasts and force myself to look her in the eyes. “It’s very simple, Ms. Cavanaugh. You are to follow my rules. To do whatever I say. To be available to me at all times, and to meet all of my needs, both sexually and personally.”

  “And I need to decide this now? I don’t even know you.”

  I think about pointing out the fact that she was certainly acting like she knew me last night. “This is how you’ll get to know me.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, looking at me like I’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard in her life. “You realize that’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  The traffic finally moves, and I lay a little too hard on the gas, and the car springs forward – not lurching, cars that cost this much don’t lurch, they purr, they slink, they glide – and I tap on the break.

  I’m anxious to get her back to my house, to peel her out of those clothes, to tie her to my bed while I lick her pussy until she’s begging me to make her come. Then I’ll shove my cock down her throat and punish her for being such a bad girl.

  “Yes! You don’t get to know someone by doing things like …that.” She blushes just a little bit, just a soft pink that spreads up her cheeks. I’m reminded again that even with the way she’s been talking to me, she’s still innocent, still a virgin who needs to broken in slowly.

  “Enlighten me then, Ms. Cavanaugh. How do you get to know someone?” I ask, already dreading the answer and knowing I’m going to regret asking the question.

  “By spending time with them.”

  “What I’m talking about includes spending time with you.”

  “Time that doesn’t include having your clothes off.”

  “You can keep your clothes on if you want,” I say. “As long as I have access to certain parts of you.” I raise my eyebrows, considering. “Although I don’t know why you’d want to.”

  “I’m being serious.” She twists her hands in front of her. “I’m not opposed to what you’re proposing. I just want to make sure that this isn’t just about just sex.”

  Oh, Jesus Christ. “I don’t do dates.”

  “You’ve never gone out on a date with someone?” she asks skeptically. “I find that very hard to believe. What about Willow?”

  I glance at her sharply. Willow? Why is she bringing up Willow? Has Willow said something to her? Or worse, has River?

  But before I can press her on it, my phone rings.

  “Speak of the devil,” I mutter as River’s name appears on the Bluetooth screen built into the car. I jam at the touchscreen, sending the call to voicemail, but he calls right back. Again, I send it to
voicemail.

  I can sense Chloe’s eyes on me, watching me curiously, probably wondering why I’m ignoring two calls in a row from my stepbrother.

  When my phone rings a third time, I’m thinking about turning it off, but this time, it’s Aubrey’s name that appears on the screen.

  My jaw ticks. She went to school this morning, and then supposedly back to my parents’ house afterwards.

  I haven’t heard from her since.

  I push the answer button.

  “Gage,” she says, and she’s crying.

  “What is it?” I ask. “What happened?”

  “Can you come, please?” she pleads. “To Mom and Dad’s house? Please, I’m scared. It’s Mom and Dad and River.”

  “What about them?” I demand, already feeling my blood starting to boil.

  “They called the police on me.”

  Chapter 7

  CHLOE

  “We’re making a pit stop.”

  That’s all Gage says -- we’re making a pit stop. Like it’s totally normal to ignore two calls from your stepbrother, then finally accept one from your teenage half-sister who tells you that said stepbrother and her parents have called the police on her. After that, he took the phone off the Bluetooth and spoke to his sister in private, so I have no idea what else was said.

  I do know – thanks to my internet research -- that if Aubrey wants Gage to come to his mom’s house, that it means we’re heading to Connecticut. Which is not a pit stop. A pit stop is stopping to grab a soda, or top up your gas tank. It’s not crossing state lines to deal with law enforcement.

  But even so, Gage is guiding the car onto the 95 onramp, heading for Connecticut.

  He’s quiet the entire time, rebuffing my attempts at casual conversation. Finally I give up and lean back in my seat, texting Grace to let her know what’s going on.

  WTF?! she writes back.

  I know, I type back. The last thing I need is to get caught up in Gage Stratford’s family drama.

  Which isn’t really true. I mean, it is the last thing I need, but it’s not exactly the last thing I want. In fact, it would be a lie to say that I’m not curious about his mom, his stepdad, his sister…even River is still a mystery.

  Gage is such an enigma, never giving anything away about how he’s feeling or what’s going on in his head. At least this will give me somewhat of a clue into who Gage Stratford is.

  Forty minutes or so later, we’ll pulling up a driveway in front of a beautiful, stately house that sits on a large expanse of perfectly manicured lawn.

  Gage throws the car into park, then turns it off. I go to reach for the door handle, but he stops me.

  “Stay here. Do not move.” And then he’s out of the car and heading for the front door.

  Before he can get inside, River McLeod steps outside.

  “Jesus, River,” I hear Gage say through the glass of the car windows. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  “What was I thinking?” River says, shaking his head. “No way. Don’t try to blame this on me.”

  “She’s a child.”

  “She’s not a child, Gage. She’s a teenager who should know better. And besides, I’m not the one who called the cops.”

  Gage stalks inside and River follows him, leaving me alone outside. The air is still, the only sounds that of a few crickets chirping, and the trickling sound of water, probably coming from a pool or something in the backyard.

  The house, for all intents and purposes, is quiet.

  I’m sitting outside his parents’ house in the car, I text to Grace. What the hell am I supposed to do?!

  I’m still waiting for her reply five minutes later when a light goes on in the backyard. From the angle of the car, I can see the side of a concrete porch that leads down to a stone patio.

  River appears, talking into a cell phone.

  He paces back and forth while he talks, running his hand through his hair. He’s wearing khaki pants and a button-up, his shirt untucked, his tie loose around his neck.

  When he ends the call, he glances up, and our eyes meet through the windshield. He frowns, then squints, like he’s trying to make sure he’s seeing correctly.

  A second later, he’s walking through the gate down the driveway and tapping on my window.

  I open the door just a little.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Hey. Chloe, right?”

  I nod.

  “You came here with Gage?”

  “Yes.”

  He nods, like this is totally normal, like the fact that Gage would show up here with one of his interns is a totally mundane occurrence. I’m not sure if I should be relieved River isn’t asking tons of questions, or worried that Gage running around with his interns is common.

  From the inside of the house comes the sound of a woman yelling. A shadow passes across one of the windows.

  “Is, um… is everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I mean, not really, but… my half-sister, Aubrey, she stole my car while we were eating dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “She just took off with it. My parents insisted on calling the police, and they took a report, picked her up down the street at her friend’s house.”

  “Seems like normal teenage hijinks,” I say, not sure exactly what the problem is.

  “Yeah, well, my father is big on consequences,” River says.

  Something about the way he says it sends a shiver up my spine. The yelling inside of the house is getting louder, and then the side door opens and a girl with long blond hair comes tumbling out of the house.

  She’s wearing Converse, ripped jeans, and a black t-shirt that probably cost hundreds of dollars but is designed to make it look like she’s not trying too hard.

  “River,” she says, twirling the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Gage wants the name of the officer you talked to. The one you gave the report to.”

  “I didn’t give them a report,” River says. “They – ”

  “Whatever!” the girl holds her hand up, like she can’t be bothered with the details of her own crime. “Can I have the dude’s card or not?”

  “He’s not a dude, Aubrey, he’s a police officer,” River says, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the card.

  The two of them start arguing as my phone buzzes in my lap.

  A text from an unknown number with a Syracuse area code.

  Hey Chloe – this is Kevin Collins, I’m Grace’s boss at The Wooden Tap. Grace never showed up to work today, and when we sent someone to check her apartment, the landlord let us in and we couldn’t find her. We have you down as her emergency contact, and just wondering if you’ve heard from her?

  I frown.

  What the hell? Why wouldn’t Grace tell her boss that she wasn’t going to be into work? That wasn’t like her. And if she got evicted, why would her landlord have let them in to check her apartment to make sure she was okay?

  Oh, Grace, I think. What is going on with you?

  I send a quick text to Kevin letting him know that Grace is fine, that she’s in New York City with me. I don’t elaborate, figuring that if Grace wanted him to know where she was, she would have told him.

  And if Grace is in some kind of trouble that she hasn’t even told me about, then I doubt she wants her boss to know.

  But before I can think too much more about what’s going on with Grace, the sound of the side door opens and a man steps out onto the porch.

  He looks like an older version of River, and he’s dressed in light jeans and a white t-shirt. His salt and pepper hair is cut close to his head, and his beard is short and neatly trimmed.

  In one hand he holds a stainless steel water bottle, the kind you’d take on a hike or a long run.

  In his other hand, he holds a gun.

  A gun.

  Everything stops as the man laughs maniacally and points the gun at the car.

  Points the gun at me.

  I duck down i
n my seat, not sure if I screamed or not, because I can’t hear anything over the blood pounding in my veins.

  “Dad!” River says. “That’s not funny.”

  “Oh, relax,” the man says. “I was just having fun. It’s not even loaded.”

  Aubrey glares at him. “Don’t scare the new girl.” She looks at me with derision as I straighten back up in my seat. “Even if she is the new Willow.”

  Aubrey turns on her heel and her and the man with the gun disappear back in the house.

  My heart is still pounding, my face hot, my throat raw.

  What the fuck was that?

  “I don’t know how long Gage is going to be,” River says. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

  I would have been stupid to say no.

  It was one thing to hook up with your boss.

  It was quite another to end up at his parents’ house, with his obviously crazy stepfather, who pointed a gun at you, and his apparently equally fucked-up half sister who stole a car from his stepbrother, who was also her half brother.

  I mean, the situation just went from like a five on the crazy scale to a million.

  So I take River’s offer.

  He drives me home.

  I fall into bed, too tired to shower.

  Grace is on the floor next to me, curled up on the air mattress she bought today, sleeping soundly.

  I think about the text her boss sent me.

  I think about what happened tonight.

  I think about Gage.

  I toss and turn, unable to fall asleep.

  I’m still awake at five-thirty when a text lights up my phone.

  It’s from Willow.

  Mr. Stratford would like to see you in his office at 7 sharp.

  Chapter 8

  GAGE

  I’m pacing my office.

  Waiting for Chloe.

  Thinking of Chloe.

  Wondering if she’ll show up.

  At seven sharp, Willow buzzes to let me know that Chloe arrived..