Boss: Complete Box Set: A Mob BDSM Romance (16 page)

M
y pillow is propped
up just enough that the flowers look like they’re laying against a headstone.

Staggering backward, I turn blindly and race for my ensuite bathroom. Slamming the door, I lock it and sweep the room, knife brandished in front of me. I’m trapped in a spider’s web. How many damn spiders are there? I don’t know who is playing me and whom I can trust. The flowers on my bed have Georgios’ stench attached to them. He was here, in my apartment. I just know it.

Who else would do this to me? There isn’t anyone else who would fuck with my head like this.  

My legs go weak and the weight of everything presses down on me. Tears stream in hot lines down my cheeks as I step into my bathtub and hold the knife between my knees. My rational mind says that the intruder has left, or he would have made an appearance by now. No, someone isn’t after me to physically hurt me—at least, not yet.

He just wants to mess with my head and serve up a warning. All I can think of is that the warning is this: I’m going to die.

Nathalie is dead.

Liz? The smart guess is: she’s dead, too.

I strain to listen for any out of place sound, but nothing filters through except the beat of my heart pounding in my ears.

Liz is dead.

I can’t stop thinking about it. Brent’s anger and indifference to her name only makes me believe it more. I delivered him the box and pictures. Closing my eyes, I recall him flipping through the pictures, the name
Foto Goto
on the back. I’d been so scared of him thinking I was peeping and learning too much that I’d focused on the ridiculousness of that name as I dropped my eyes.

Liz’s ring was in the box—the ring she had on her finger in the picture staged on Brent’s bed. The ring was a symbol, a token, of her death. If so, I can only imagine what the pictures were of. Her dead body? He’d shown no emotion that night as he perused the images, and then later, kissed me. If he was torn up over proof of his lover’s death, he hadn’t shown it at all.

I shudder. Brent can be cold, methodical, and stoic. And though he’s never been aggressive with me without my consent, at times he radiates danger and clear threat. As much as I love how his badass attitude revs my libido, in my heart I know he can hurt me. He can crush me.

He could… he could kill me.

No!

I bring my knees to my chest and hug them. I recall Liz’s name burned into the inside of the leather submissive’s collar. She’d meant something to Brent. I picked up on that early and my intuition over it was strong enough to make me furiously jealous. But now as she runs through my mind, I feel sorry and sad for her. And so, so scared thinking I might take her place and end up the same.

I want to mean something to Brent, too. I convinced myself that I do. All this time, I knew there was a cost to getting close to him, a price to pay for his affection. But it’s a sum I can’t afford.

The strain of my phone sounds through the bedroom door. I stare at the door, as if I can magically make my cell appear. I don’t move to go get it. It chimes five more times before going voicemail.

I dip my forehead to my knees and just breathe. Time passes, though I’m not sure how much, until my phone rings again. Then again. Wiping my eyes, I drop the knife to the bottom of the tub and stand shakily. In all the minutes I was locked inside, I haven’t heard a thing to warn me that the intruder—specifically, Georgios—is still inside my apartment.

I unlock the door.

Take a breath and pull it open. And listen.

Nothing.

Still shaking, I dash for my phone just as it rings again. It’s Brent. I don’t want to talk to him, but he’s all I have. I could call Donetta, but she’d find out about Brent and me. After my recent promotion, I can’t afford for our indiscretions to be made public. I don’t have any family. My only real connection in Detroit is a man I can’t trust—but can’t seem to stay away from. The man who may have killed his last sub.

Answering, I cross my free arm over my body to hold back tremors. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” His voice is hard, demanding. It spurs my apprehension all over again.

“I’m at home! He was here, Brent,” I yell. “Did you tell him to do this to me? What the fuck
did you do
?”

I’m losing it. The small grasp I had on my emotional turmoil is gone. Gripping the phone with both hands, I try to breathe and talk and hold back sobs, and my voice turns into a pathetic mess. “I never asked for this. I never wanted to be part of your game.”

He breathes through the phone.  I hear him swallow. When he speaks again, it’s with a tremor and hard edge. “Who was there?”

“Georgios. That fucking Greek mobster you’re so buddy-buddy with. The one who tried to
rape
me in the hotel. Remember him?” My voice is shaking so badly that I can barely understand myself. He makes a soft sound, almost as if he’s trying to comfort me. But his words are pure steel.

“What did he do?”

“He left flowers. The same flowers he… he left on my sister’s grave.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No! Stay away from me. I don’t want you near me.” I click off the phone and throw it on the bed. It rings immediately, of course, but I don’t answer. Fuck him. No, fuck me. I did this to myself. I should have stayed far away from Brent Masters, refused the job from the very beginning, and never, ever allowed myself into his bed. This spider web is one I helped spin and now I’m trapped in my own handiwork.

None of this anger is helping me decide what to do. I collapse onto the edge of my bed, trembling with the after effects of adrenaline shooting through my body. I catch the face of the clock next to my closet and see that more than thirty minutes have ticked by, and I still haven’t made a decision. I don’t even feel like I’ve taken a breath since I sat down.

For tonight, there’s not much I can do. I could check into a hotel, but look how that turned out the last time. Both of the men I trust the least found me there. I shudder at the memory of Georgios’ hands on my bare skin. Bile bites the back of my throat. No, at least for tonight I’m locking myself inside my room and pushing my dresser in front of my bedroom door. I’ll figure out the rest in the morning.

My cell rings again just as my front door slams against the wall. Damn! I left the knife in the bathroom. I jump up to run for it, but the sound of my name stops me.

“Erica! Erica.” Brent rushes through my doorway, his eyes surveying the room before they fall on the flowers. He turns to me, his eyes narrowing as he barely shakes his head. He brushes past me and viciously grabs the flowers before storming out of the room. He comes back, sans flowers.

“Pack a few things. Let’s go.”

I cross my arms, torn by his little display. Is he trying to tell me that he cares, or is he simply pissed at the hand Georgios dealt here? I can’t trust Brent. I
don’t
trust Brent. Leaving with him seems final in a way that I can’t explain.

“No.” I shake my head, but I don’t step back as he advances on me and gently takes my arms in his hands.

“Don’t argue. I’ll go out of my mind worrying if I leave you here. Don’t be stubborn.”

“It
was
Georgios, wasn’t it? In your house and mine.” I want there to be another explanation. What, I don’t know. An angry ex-girlfriend? A disgruntled employee?

His eyes lose some of their coldness as he thinks about the situation. “I don’t know. But I’m working on finding out.”

“I don’t trust you.” There. I said it. And I’m not at all surprised when he shows no emotion. He brings a hand to my face and traces my lower lip with his thumb. It’s both comforting and a little intimidating because I know what happens when I allow him to touch me. If he keeps it up, I’ll sink into the erotic escape of his body and forget my good senses.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispers, almost as if he’d been thinking it with no intention of saying it out loud. “But I need you to trust me in this moment. Pack a bag.”

I’m shaking again. Damn him! “I can’t—“

“You will. And you’ll do it right now.”

Our eyes lock and it only takes a blink to realize he’s slipped into Dom mode. He’s using it to his favor. I’m in no damn mood to be role playing right now, but I still can’t stop the rush of adrenaline at his commanding tone or the willingness of my body to go along with his directive.

“You’re not hearing me, Brent. I told you, I don’t trust you.”

His hands run down my arms, then he grips my wrists and gently pries my arms apart and wraps them around his waist. He draws me into an embrace, my cheek pressing against his chest as his arms come around me. My fingertips brush bare skin just above the waist of his pants, under his loose shirt. My hands tingle at this touch, and my pussy swells with desire for more of him, against my better judgment.

I’m shredded by this act of tenderness.

“I’m not an angel, Erica, but you have nothing to fear from me today. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. Understand? I just want to keep you safe.”

“From who?” I murmur against his warmth. He’s so strong and cradles me perfectly. I almost believe him. I almost believe I really am safe with him. I tense when he doesn’t reply, but it feels so good to be next to him like this that I let myself relax a little again. Brent’s power over me is ridiculous, and my inability to fight it is even more so. No wonder the spider’s web is so damn big.

“From what?” I ask, but he again doesn’t answer me.

“Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

The embrace ends and he strides from the room, leaving me to stare at his retreating figure and wonder if I should pack the knife.

Just in case.

B
rent stands
by my front door like a sentry, barking commands into his phone while I pack my bag. As I approach, he jams his finger onto his phone to hang up, then slides his phone into his pocket. He takes my bag and places a hand on the small of my back to guide me out of my apartment and through the building. We’re silent as we walk. I’m grateful for this moment of calm so I can think, but nothing makes any more sense than it did before.

He holds the car door for me and then buckles me in as if he’s afraid I’ve forgotten how. But then he squeezes my knee and I realize that he’s simply taking care of me. I flash him a brief, grateful smile, my eyes searching his for some answers, before he stands and shuts my door. He slips inside the car and we speed off, his hands gripping the wheel as if it might get away from him.

“I’ve hired you a bodyguard.”

“What?”

He furrows his brows and stares straight ahead at the road with a scowl. “I won’t have you unprotected while I figure out what’s going on.”

I guess I can’t argue with that. He mostly got me into this mess, so he can help protect my ass while he gets me out of it.

I stare at his profile, soaking in the strong lines of his face, the arch to the bridge of his nose, and the way his upper lip turns up a tiny bit. His jaw is rough with stubble, and I’m afraid he’s going to get a headache from clenching his teeth so hard.

“Thank you,” I say softly, placing my hand on his thigh. He spares me a glance before focusing on the road. I mean it to be a gesture of true appreciation. He could leave me to my own devices where Georgios is concerned, but he won’t. And though we’ve never made promises of commitment to each other, the last hour of his care has somehow reassured me that I’m more to Brent than just a piece of ass.

If he’d just open the gateway for all the questions I have, I’d feel like we could get somewhere. Namely, my questions about Liz and the circumstances around her disappearance from his life.

I want to ask if she’s alive.

I want to ask if she’s dead.

My heart aches while my brain turns the problem over and over. I’m not sure I really
want
to know the answers, but I need them.

I say nothing because I don’t want to risk his anger right now. He’s offering to protect me, and honestly Brent is my best hope for an ally. I can’t keep myself safe from Georgios without paying another huge price. This time, it’s clear that the cost includes my body.

Cold dread creeps over my shoulders and across my breasts, locking my lungs so tightly I feel like I can’t breathe. I shudder and hug myself.

We arrive at his house where a handful of men are crawling all over place. One is on a ladder while another man runs some kind of wire around the ground. Tall flood lights illuminate the dark of the property where they work.

“I’m not fucking around with my security anymore.” Brent parks and looks at me. “The wind blows wrong and this new system will kick some serious ass.”

I can’t even imagine what he’s paying to have these workers out here this time of night. He comes around to my side of the car to open the door, then guides me back into the house the same way he’d guided me out of my apartment. It’s like he’s afraid I might scamper away at any moment, like a frightened rabbit.

Brent leads me to a guestroom and drops my bag on the bed. I’m disappointed that he hasn’t put me in his room. I’m already agitated, though, and that feeling would probably get even worse knowing Liz’s picture was laying on my side of Brent’s bed. I wonder what he did with the portrait as I turn towards the huge, uncovered windows and look out at the black night. The workers must be finished on this side of the house.

From here, I can see the lake. The moon casts silver threads over the rippling surface. It looks so peaceful, so pristine.

I wish I felt the same—clean on the inside, calm, and in control. But I don’t. I’m terrified, and I’ve run on adrenaline for so long now, I don’t remember what true peace feels like.

“Hey,” Brent whispers. He stands behind me and grips my upper arms. His chest presses into me and I welcome his warmth. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

Rest is the last thing I need. I have to work off this restless craziness that’s rolling around inside me. I’ve been completely upended, again, and I need
something
to even it out.

“Let’s go down to the lake.” I blurt the words, but they sound good, so I go with it. “The water looks so peaceful.”

“It’s getting chilly.”

“I brought a sweater.”

He huffs a laugh and kisses the top of my head. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Change and meet me downstairs. We’ll have a drink first.”

I stare at the water for a few minutes longer after he leaves.  Despite what happened here earlier, I feel safer than I would have if I’d stayed in my apartment. Comforted some, I slip into a soft pair of yoga pants, a tank top, and a long, oversized knit cardigan. Downstairs, Brent hands me a finger of scotch. I toss back the glass and down it. The liquor runs through my veins, heating my blood. But it doesn’t heat me as much as Brent’s expression does as he watches me drink and lick my lips to savor the very last drop.

I can’t help but stare at his dark, heavily lidded eyes with their fan of thick, black lashes that hide the brilliance of his irises when he looks down, eyeing my body, focusing on my lips. I run my tongue over my bottom lip and bite it before I can stop myself. I know that seductive, hungry look in his eyes, and it fills me with giddy want. I remember staring up into his eyes from my knees as he had poured champagne into my mouth right before I sucked his hard cock, the champagne bubbles still tingling my tongue.

He gives me the same look, only more intense. My mouth waters at the memory, and my body vibrates with desire again.

“Ready?” he asks.

He doesn’t wait for my response, but instead takes my hand and leads me to the back door. Rather than walking to the beach area below his house, he tugs me towards the boat house. Motion lights positioned on the trees and the outside of the boat house flick on as we approach. Brent clicks a key fob, and the building’s interior lights softly pop on, too. I hate to admit to myself that he was right, it
is
chilly out here. I tug my hand away from him to hug myself, glad I wore the sweater.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

He smiles and opens the door for me. Inside, a white boat bobs patiently in the slip. Water laps at the underside of it, casting a gentle, rocking sound through the space. Brent holds his hand out to me again.

I pause before resting my fingers on his rough, wide palm. Isn’t it too dark for a boat ride? It must be past midnight.

“Get in.”

“You know how to drive this thing, right?”

He rolls his eyes and smirks. “Really, Erica?”

Yes, damn it, really. I don’t need any more surprises tonight...maybe unless they’re of the good variety? No. No surprises. I take his hand and step into the boat, clasping onto him tighter than I’d like to as the floor shifts under my feet with the waves. I quickly sit on the first seat I see, pulling my hand away and vowing to give myself a little distance from him. I feel like I can’t control my thoughts when our skin touches, and the one thing I need right now is some fresh air and the ability to think straight.

The boat is big enough to hold a handful of people, so we’re not sitting too closely to each other. It’s comfortable inside with cream-colored leather seats and wood-topped tables polished to such a gloss that I can see how brightly my eyes shine in the moonlight. I know I’m still strung between the terror of the day’s events and the exhilaration of not knowing where Brent will take me. Partially enclosed, the captain’s area has a curved windshield and gleaming steering wheel. I’ve never been on a boat, but the promise of unsteadiness, nausea, and drowning rivet me to my seat.

I imagine that Brent has a captain to take control when he entertains on this boat, but tonight, it’s just us.

He gets in behind me and starts the motor. Clicking another button on his keys, the door to the boathouse rises and we gently cruise out of the building. Then, the boat stops and softly vibrates as the motor runs in a stand still. He tugs me up from where I’m sitting, then lowers me into the seat directly next to him. He digs out a thick fleece blanket and drapes it over me, tucking the edges under my legs like a father tucking in his child. Flipping the engine back into drive, he steers away from the shore and out toward the middle of the lake. I sit like a stone in my seat until the boat hits a wave and rocks side to side, knocking me out of my reverie and sliding me out of my seat. My arms shoot out as I grip the edge of the seat and I wince. I’m pretty sure Brent chuckles, but I ignore him.

Bastard. Doesn’t he know my nerves have had about all they can take today?

The boat continues its methodical pace, and with each minute that passes without event, I feel a less nervous about plunging to a watery death. I let myself relax into the body-conforming leather seat.

If I fall in, Brent will fish me out.

Or… will he? I cast a side-eye as a passing thought of Liz goes through my mind.

“You look terrified.” His gaze meets mine, and he grins. If it’s meant to be reassuring, it fails.

“First time on a boat!” My voice is overly chirpy in an attempt to cover my thoughts. Of course he’d save me if I toppled over the side.

Of course he would.

“How can this be your first time? Isn’t boating a requirement of childhood or something?”

I huff. “Not if you grew up in the concrete jungle like I did.”

He lowers his eyes, his eyebrows serious again. I wait for him to quip back with some personal tidbit of his own—something to let me peek into his past, but he doesn’t. I know he came from nothing and worked his way up. Maybe he used to go fishing with his dad or something.

I hope that’s the case. I hope his childhood had positive things, unlike mine. But with the darkness I sense in him, I seriously doubt it.

It’s beautiful out here. The lake is a dark navy blue, the sky above dotted with stars and a slice of the moon. The air is a weird cool-warm blend that swirls around me. To my surprise, it doesn’t smell fishy or musty like I imagine big pools of water do. The scent is clean, woodsy even.

Refreshing.

“Here we go.” Brent suddenly turns off the motor and looks at me. My heart flips. Why have we stopped?

“Uh—“

“No reason to rush,” he responds, as if sensing my trepidation. “We have the rest of the night.”

For what? Him to push me over the side and wipe his hands of me?

I give myself a mental shake. What is wrong with me? I don’t really believe Brent will hurt me, but I can’t keep it out of my subconscious.

He moves to the back of the boat where I was originally sitting and curls a finger indicating that I should follow. He sits on the long bench seat, his knees spread wide. His thighs strain through his pants, even as his posture is casual. My stomach jumps in anticipation as I stop at his knee and wait. Four lights perch on top of tall, metal poles and cast a soft glow around the inside of the boat. Shadows cast across his features, dipping into the recesses and highlighting the angles so that he looks devilish.

And wickedly delicious.

My heart thumps faster as the boat sways a little, but I resist the instinct to steady myself. Instead, I wait for his instruction. Falling into submissiveness immediately frees my mind. The tangle of emotions I’ve battled all day are still there, but they take a step back in my mind—way back. Now, all I can think about is how much I want to please him.

Brent sweeps over my body with a look, his grunt of satisfaction warming me.

“Kneel between my legs.”

I do, almost giddy in trying to guess what he has in mind. His fingers thread into my hair and gently knead my temples, then the top of my head. I close my eyes as sensation runs over me, relaxing me until I almost forget where I am.

“Keep your eyes closed and listen closely.” His voice is low and gravelly, the rumble of his quiet words echoing in my mind.

I nod, trying to keep breathing even as I lose myself in the pleasure he’s causing with his fingers twined in my hair.

“I’m going to give you singular pleasure. No kissing. No usual foreplay. Your arousal will come all from your mind.” With that, he strokes his fingers from my scalp to the ends of my hair. The strands fall slowly away until our physical connection is completely broken. I have no idea what he wants from me.

“Your mind has been stressed today, Erica. Let’s take that away and give it something better to cling to. Like, pleasure. Open your eyes.”

He’s unbuttoning his shirt when I look. The top button pops open, then the next. The sides of his shirt part enough to tease me with his flesh beneath. Another button brings his collarbone into view and I wet my lips with my tongue.

“How do you feel when you watch me undress?” He opens two more buttons and pauses, his long fingers resting against the taut length of his abdomen. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer, so I don’t. Instead, I fixate on how the palm of his right hand goes flat against his belly, his fingers splaying before he runs his hand slowly, exquisitely down his abdomen, across the thickness of his hard dick restrained in his pants, and back up again.

His erection juts long and insistent against his jeans. Brent smooths his hand over his body again, down to his cock where he closes his fingers around it and groans quietly.

“How does this make you feel, Erica?” His voice is heavy, smoky.

I press my thighs together and put my palms on my knees. “Excited.”

“What else?” He strokes himself over his jeans while he finishes unbuttoning his shirt with his other hand. My breathing picks up, my pulse beating fast and hard. I’m warm all over, and I’m so wet I’m worried I’ve soaked myself. The sweater is too much.

“Needy.”

“Does your pussy ache?”

I squirm. “God, yes.”

Brent brings both hands to the button at his jeans. I can’t look away as he methodically works it until the button is free, and pulls down the zipper. With a swift move, he pushes down the waist of his jeans and briefs and his cock springs free. My mouth waters at the sight of the plump head glistening in the light. Brent wraps his hand around himself and catches my eyes.