Boss: Complete Box Set: A Mob BDSM Romance (8 page)

B
rent Masters can shove
Greece up his perfect, firm, and supple ass.

It’s been two days and I’m still steaming about how he left me without a word at his house. Hopefully the poor housekeeper has recovered from the moment when I may or may not have accidentally dropped and shattered the mug of coffee she offered me.

I hope it wasn’t expensive.

Then again, I hope it was.

I am such an idiot. But when I finally get some time alone with him, I’m telling him that he is, too. Because I don’t care how dominant you are, you can’t just have a moment like that with someone and then flit off to the Mediterranean like it never happened.

So what if I had been planning to break it off with him anyway?

Since leaving his house, I’d been struggling with how I allowed him to have power over me. Not with my job, but with his body. When I was finally free from Georgios, I vowed to never let a man one-up me again, yet Brent has with fluid ease. I never had a chance to resist him.

Instead of going directly to my office, I grab a cup of coffee and find an empty conference room. Collapsing into a chair in the corner, I sip from my paper cup and breathe deeply to get myself together.

My head is such a mess.

I still want and need this job, and I’m tired of worrying whether or not I’ve done something to jeopardize it. Brent seemed sincere in his declaration that I still had it, with no ties to the personal link between us. But that was before he’d showed me his box full of “terms,” and before I turned him down. I could read a lot of meaning into him coming to my bed in the middle of the night, and into the words he’d whispered in my ear.

But no matter what conclusion I come to, it won’t be the right one.

So why keep worrying about it? It takes half of my coffee before I’m resolved enough to head to my office. If I’m fired, I’ll know it as soon as I walk in. And until I actually see him, I won’t know if it’s too weird working with him after our crazy hot night together..

Until then, it’ll be business as usual.

Feeling decisive for the first time in two days, I toss my cup and head to my office. And stop dead to find some red-headed guy sitting in my chair. A name plate hangs precariously off the front of the desk, and it’s not mine.

Dread floods me. “Who are you?” I demand, readjusting my bag strap on my shoulder because it suddenly feels very heavy.

“Greg.”

I nod, as if that’s supposed to make perfect sense. “Greg.”

His eyebrows shoot up as if I’d asked him a question. “Yeah?”

I eye the name plate again.
Greg Saunders
.

I’ve been replaced. I’ve been fired. Brent fired me! Nausea rises in my throat. I feel dirty. Hugging my arms over my chest, I take a little step back. I was such an idiot to think there was something more between Brent and me than sex.

What is it about you? I don’t do this. I never do this.

Those whispered, tight words had fooled me into believing we had a connection worth exploring. As usual, I was wrong, and I let a powerful man use me. He was a liar and I was an idiot.

“Can I at least get my plant?” I snag it off the edge of the desk and hug it to my chest. It looks better, amazingly. Perky and green and not crunchy. He has my office, my job
and
he saved my plant.

“Show off,” I hiss and spin out of the office.
I will not be emotional about this
, I think as I storm to the elevator. People are looking at me, whispering. Holding my head high, I punch the button and wait for the doors to open.

Someone grabs my arm.

“Erica!” Donetta chirps in a sing-song voice. Her cheer devastates me. She’s happy that I’m going?

“Donetta,” I say pathetically. She’s been my only real friend, and now…

“Snickers Dark. It did the trick. I swear. I knew the whole blood sugar thing was an issue, but I did not expect the reaction to be this good.”

She starts pulling me down the hall, and I race to keep up. “What the hell are you talking about?” This is beyond confusing, and frankly annoying.

“He even apologized to me, Erica. Apologized. Well, he didn’t actually say the words, but said after reviewing your report, he said acted too hastily on firing you. Well, he didn’t actually say, but he emailed. It’s all… it’s pretty much the same. I think.”

We round a corner and I stop her with a hand on her arm. “Wait. I’m completely lost here.”

Her brow furrows. “I left two Snickers candy bars in his bottom desk drawer. Next thing I know, the candy was gone and he’s apologizing. I peeked.” Her face says,
duh
, but I still don’t get it.

She pulls me along for a few more feet until we stop and she turns me toward an open doorway. I blink from the sunlight streaming around the room. It’s a huge office with a wall of windows, and executive furniture and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase.

Side-eyeing Donetta, I wait for more nonsensical explanation. This isn’t the HR office I’d filled out my paperwork in last time, but maybe someone else does exit interviews. She puts her hands on her hips, takes a deep breath and smiles like a proud parent.

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

“Why?”

Her lips pull to one side. “Did… Did you not get the email?”

“The one where I’ve been fired—”

“Promoted.”

My face goes numb. “What?”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No, no. Not fired. Mr. Masters promoted you. Executive Director of Accounting! That’s your new title.” She pushes me into the room and peels my bag off my shoulder.

I don’t get far because my legs are too heavy. It’s gorgeous corner office, the kind a person would earn after many loyal years of service. But I earned it for what? Fixing a couple accounting errors and sleeping with the boss. The unclean sensation I had moments ago slicks my skin full-force.

I can’t accept this. I didn’t really earn it. My sex did.

“Oh, for God’s sake, go sit behind the desk!” Donetta guides me by my shoulders to the desk, pulls the chair out and plops me down into it. She leans low and gives me a little pat. “Congratulations!”

Can’t she see this for what it is? A reward for spreading my legs for Brent? The truth has to be clear on my face because I feel transparent, as if my guilt and disgust are revealed for anyone to see.

Suddenly, I’m the ashamed girl that Georgios groomed to be unworthy of anything besides being of service to powerful men. Though he’d never sold my body, he had made it clear that someday he would, because that’s all I was worth. That was my value.

And I’ve proved him right.

Just like my sister. Just like Nathalie.

Donetta is smiling at me, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I must be hiding it better than I think. To keep up the façade, I run my hands over the mahogany desk and check the drawers. But thoughts of Nathalie are racing through my mind. This is how she started, sleeping with someone powerful. Cocaine was her payoff though, not executive offices. But what if this is how it starts?

What if I’m already on a slippery slope?

“Good morning, Ms. Lundgren.” A peppy voice rings through the room. A tiny blond bounces in, a coffee mug in each hand.

She hands one to Donetta. “Two sugars, half and half.” Then she slides the other onto my desk. “Black.”

Standing back with her hands folded in front of her, she looks like an eager puppy. My eyes shoot to Donetta, but she’s too busy sipping her coffee with a sly smile to explain. Tinkerbell plops a stack of yellow slips on my desk, and a manila folder.

“Your schedule and messages so far for the day, ma’am.”

“Great … who are you?” I prompt. The blond sticks out a tiny hand and shakes mine like the Energizer Bunny. She cocks her head like I’m about to get an earful of fluffy chastising.

“Didn’t you get the email? I’m Olive, your new assistant.”

Corporate email can find a cozy spot up Brent’s ass right alongside Greece. Overwhelm makes my head spin and I rub my forehead.

“Nice to meet you.” I manage. Despite the spaciousness, the room seems as if it’s closing in on me. Donetta nods to Olive and ushers her toward the door.

“Ms. Lundgren will call you if she needs anything.” Turning to me, she winks. “It’s a lot all at once and I’m sorry you didn’t get earlier warning. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I … I am.”

It’s there, underneath all the baggage, a dot of elation over this change of events. I just have to dig through the guilt-rubble to free it.

They both leave, closing the door behind them. I sit back in the cushiony leather chair and take my first good look around. My files are here, neatly arranged on the shelf next to me. A huge potted fern thing sits in the corner and shiny new office supplies sit on the desk. Cool, another plant to kill.

I get up and pull the files down, slowly rearranging them the way I want. It’s menial but it helps center me, and after an hour, I’ve arranged everything to suit me better.

Flipping open the file I was last working on, I’m drawn to the yellow highlighted area that I made. It’s another error, a big one. Almost as big as the last, and it’s not the only one. Going through the printouts, I track all the highlighted areas. I open my laptop and start on the spreadsheet, plugging in numbers and making notes.

The sum of the past accountant’s mistakes are huge. Huge enough that he should have to suffer some sort of professional penalty for such gross negligence. It’s almost two o’clock before I stop. Sitting back, I realize my untouched coffee’s gone cold, and I haven’t eaten. But the spreadsheet is worth it. I’ve isolated all the errors from a single accountant going back an entire year. And now I’m going to scour the old files again to make sure I haven’t missed anything.

Once I finish that, I’ll start the arduous process of going through everyone else’s reports. It’s like finding the pieces in a thousand-piece puzzle that don’t fit. One thousand times.

I freaking love this job.

With a satisfied breath, I get up to stretch and go to my windows to look out. It reminds me of meeting Brent my first week working here, how he’d been reluctant to look away from the view. Now I understand why. The landscape is an expansive canvas of this gorgeous, broken, immortal city, and a luminous sky.

I love it.
I earned it.

The realization startles me. I did earn it, through hard work and frankly, the power of my number-loving brain. I may have met Brent in an unorthodox way, and let’s face it, the sex probably helped a little. But in my heart, I have to concede that hard work got me here.

Fuck quitting. This is the job of my dreams, and it would be different if I was in over my head. But I’m not—I’m exactly in my element.

I won’t let Brent own me, but I’ll never stop proving to him that I’m the best thing to ever walk through these casino doors.

A
week has passed
since I moved into my new office, and I have to admit that I’m getting really used to being called ‘Ms. Lundgren.’ Having an assistant is pretty wonderful, as it turns out, and I’ve squared away all the old accounting errors thanks to Olive doing my busy work.

I’m especially proud that I’ve kept my pretty new plant alive all week, too. Things are definitely improving. Despite the fact that I have yet to see my CEO. My lover. My anger has faded a bit, I must admit.

“Good morning, Ms. Lundgren!” Olive chimes, as she breezes in with stuff in both hands and starts lining it up on my desk. “Coffee, status reports, incoming receipts from the floor, and, as you requested, a macadamia double-white chocolate chip cookie.” She sets that down last on top of my coffee cup so it gets moist and warm just as I like it.

I’m a spoiled brat.

“Thanks, Olive.” I crack the cookie and offer her half. It’s our new morning routine. She’ll decline, as always.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” And then she’ll take it. “But if you insist.” And then she’ll leave me alone.

“By the way,” she says, taking a teeny bite. “Mr. Masters has called a meeting of all the department heads in half an hour. He’d like you to bring reports for the past week.” Then she leaves.

And I stare after her.

Oh, so he’s back in town? That bastard.

“Olive!” I holler. Impatient when I don’t hear her coming back right away, I get up to follow her. We nearly collide just inside my office door. “Mr. Masters is in the office today?”

She blinks her perfect Maybelline lashes and nods perkily. “Mmm-hmm.”

My fingers clench into fists as heat flushes my face. So that’s how it is? Epic sex, followed by a wordless business trip, followed by a week of silence, and now he’s back without notice? It’s not like he doesn’t have a thousand methods of finding my number. The only answer is that he didn’t want to call.

The only answer is that he’s over us. Whatever “us” was, or is, or could never be. This was my payoff, this job, and office and assistant. That
bastard
.

“Ms. Lundgren?” Olive’s voice isn’t perky any more.

“What?”

“May I go now?”

I realize I’ve been glaring at her this entire time. Chagrined, I step back and smile. “Of course. Thanks, Olive.”

I shut the door before going back to my desk. I thought, stupidly, that Brent and I might have something worth exploring. Even though I’d turned down being his submissive, we still had blazing chemistry. I can’t shake the fear-lust attraction thing I have for him. The combination is lethal for my control and my sanity. My anger’s back, full-force.

I don’t want him to stop taking me to bed, and I don’t want to stop seeing him. He doesn’t get to buy me out. Surely we can find something that works for us both. I don’t care if he thinks his terms are final—they aren’t. Not when I know he loved the sex as much as I did.

I finish my coffee as I print reports for the meeting. It takes all of my concentration to focus on the task at hand, instead of how much I want to corner Brent. We need to talk this through, and for the sake of my pussy and my heart, we need to come to some agreement.

With a few minutes to spare, I pop into my bathroom, and before I can overthink it, I let my hair down. It fluffs in blond waves over my shoulders. I thread my fingers through it a few times to smooth it, then apply a little lip stain and open the top two buttons on my dress shirt.

I’m wearing a tulip skirt today and it hugs my hips nicely before flaring out around my knees. I assess myself in the mirror, realizing I can up it a notch.

Reaching under my skirt, I shimmy my hose down and toe out of them before sliding back into my heels. He may be done with me, but I’ll show him what he’s missing. Besides, if he remembers how much he likes what he sees, then maybe he’ll be willing to negotiate a little.

A little voice inside my head tells me this is pointless, but I ignore it. It’s worth a try.

I meet Olive in the hallway, pretending not to notice the double-take she gives me at my changed appearance. Holding my head high, I enter the conference room. Brent’s cologne hits me immediately, making my panties damp and my legs weak.

Damn, I really did miss him.

I spy him out of the corner of my eye but don’t let myself look until I’ve taken a seat at the far end of the table. The more room between us right now, the better, so I can focus on capturing his attention without being distracted.

I feel his eyes on me and I hold my breath and look back.
Fuck. Jesus, fuck.
I mute a moan as I clear my throat to cover it. But hell, I swear I’m going to come just looking at him. A silver shirt hugs his chest, the lapels of his suit coat open wide. His hair is thick and wavy, perfectly styled as if he’s just had it cut. The undercut is shaved close to his head and I itch to feel the short strands under my fingers as I hold his head between my legs.

“Ms. Lundgren, are you all right?” Olive discreetly hands me a tissue under the table. “You’re sweating.”

“Fuck yes, I’m sweating.” I murmur, grabbing the tissue before I realize the woman sitting on my other side heard me. “It’s … it’s hot in here, right?” I laugh a little and swallow hard. This can’t keep happening; I have to get it together.

Brent takes a seat and I make a conscious effort not to look at him again. But then he starts to speak and the masculine tone of his voice vibrates through me. I cross my legs, trying to quell the aching need. The meeting goes on, talk and more talk, and no matter what I do, I can’t stop savoring his voice or peeking at him from under my lashes.

And then his eyes fully meet mine and he grins, as if he’s caught me. It’s cold, though, with no trace of welcome or familiarity. His gaze flicks over me and his lips fall into a hard line.

“Reports please, Ms. Lundgren. How did we fare last week?”

His impersonal tone slaps me back into focus. I despise him. It flickers in me like a flame. Fuck, I despise myself for wanting him anyway.

I stand and pass out a copy of the spreadsheet, making my way in a slow circle around the table. My mouth starts to water as I reach him, his yummy scent making my body go haywire. Again. I wish I could think of a collected reply, but I’ve got nothing. Luckily, I
do
have an immaculate report to deliver.

I relay my report, keeping my voice professional and even. He’s watching me again as I take my seat, and I nearly forget what I was saying. Finally, it’s over and I get through it without a hitch, or an orgasm … sadly.

The room starts to clear out. I take my time gathering my papers and putting them carefully away. Olive waits for me, but I indicate that she should go ahead. Finally, the people to my left are waiting, and I have no choice but to get up. I hoped to approach Brent after everyone had gone, but it looks like my luck’s run out.

He’s smoothing his tie and I’m trapped into watching his hand slide slowly down the slick fabric.

“May I have a word with you, Mr. Masters?”

He flicks something off the hem of his suit coat. “Is this business related?”

My arousal is uncomfortable but I force myself to hold still. Besides, if I shift my weight right now, it’ll only get worse. I silently beg him to look at me, but he doesn’t.

“No, sir.”

“Have you given any further consideration to my proposal?”

Letting him own me? Hell yes I’ve thought about it, but the answer is still no. So I lie.

“No, sir.”

He catches my eyes and my breath. Aware that people are still walking out, possibly watching, I know I shouldn’t be staring at him like this, but I can’t look away. He’s like an impertinent child who has been denied a toy, and the result is a storm you can’t help but be caught up in.

“Then, Ms. Lundgren, I don’t have time for you.” He slides his folder off the table and brushes past me and out the door.

Holding back the hurt, I leave too, and head back to my office before everyone in the building sees the firestorm of emotions inside me on my face. I shouldn’t care so much that he’s snubbing me—that he’s dismissing our passion so easily.

It’s not that he doesn’t care, I know that. Don’t I? I felt it when he was in bed with me. But a man like Brent needs his ego and his dominance fed, and if I’m going to get anywhere with him, I need to be the one to offer an olive branch.

I imagine he could think of a lot of kinky things to do with one of those. But it may be the only way to broker a truce.

Resolved, I make a plan. I’ll give in, just a little, if it means he and I can have a discussion about this thing between us.

I pull up Brent’s schedule on my computer. All the department heads have an accessible schedule so we know who is available when. Seeing that he’ll be in meetings the rest of the day, I finish out my workday, and then head to his office.

Holding an empty file against my chest, I try to look official just in case his secretary is still there. She’s not, so I dump the file into her trash can and let myself into Brent’s office. His last meeting will be over soon, so I don’t have a lot of time.

Quickly, I undress and fold my clothes. My black lace bra and panties are a nice contrast to my pale skin. My breasts sit full and luscious inside the bra cups. If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will. Wait—I can do better.

Moving to the sideboard, I pour two fingers of scotch into a tumbler, and then carry it to the middle of the room. There, I kneel on the cool, hard marble floor, lower onto my hands and reach behind me to balance the tumbler in the dip of my lower back.

It takes a couple near-misses to keep it upright, but I manage without spilling a single drop. I guess I still have it. I have to keep my back somewhat rigid in order to balance the glass, but I’m determined. A sense of calm goes through me as I settle into the posture. It’s familiar, and a part of me has missed this. I can’t wait to see his face, and hear how his voice might change in response to my offering.

I want him to desire this, to react to it. Whether he knows it or not, his reaction will be a result of my power over him. It’s a quiet, subtle way to give and take, and it’s definitely my turn to break him of his stubbornness.

Several minutes pass and my knees begin to ache from the hard floor. The glass goes from cool to warm thanks to my body heat, and I’m so focused on that small weight on my back that I don’t notice anything else. If I spill a drop, I’ve failed. Each breath is measured, careful, because the scotch is a precious measure of my ability. I refuse to let Brent see me fail, especially since it won’t bring me the reaction I’m hoping for.

Time ticks on until the caps of my knees feel as if they are cracking in two. My palms ache, my muscles hurt from the rigid, yet flexible posture I have to hold myself in. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was making me wait on purpose, but he has no idea I’m here, so I can’t blame my discomfort completely on him.

Maybe a little, since I’m doing this to catch his freaking attention.

The door
finally
clicks. I smile as his footfalls sound in the room. My ass points toward the door, making sure it’s the first thing he sees when he walks in. He’s got a good view, including the string of my thong disappearing between my ass cheeks, and the glass glistening on the small of my back.

His eyes have probably gone dark and hungry, his lips hard as he wrestles with the first flare of lust. As I’m imagining his reaction, he steps to me. His shoes go silent.

“Have a drink,” I drawl. “Let’s chat.”

“Shut up.” He lifts the glass. Instead of being insulted, I’m triumphant. I have his attention. More than ready to be off this floor, I begin to rise so I can soothe my aching knees. But his shoe presses between my shoulder blades, shoving me back down.

“I didn’t tell you to stand.”

I gasp, but quickly muffle it as I get back into position and drop my head. He walks around to the front of me but I don’t look up. My breathing ticks up, tension ensuring I stay exactly this way. I’ve scored, but I haven’t won yet. Finally, he moves to his desk and the wheels of his chair click as he pulls it to the side.

The leather creaks as he sits, the ice in his glass clinking as he drinks. I keep my eyes down, imagining how he looks right now, all spread out in his chair. Knees wide apart, his shirt dipping into the flat plane of his abdomen. A shudder of desire goes through me and I almost squirm.

Almost.

Silence drapes between us and I know he’s making me wait this time. I imagine him sipping his drink while imagining all the things he wants to do to me. He probably thinks I’m accepting his submissive-only terms, but the joke’s on him.

I might be enjoying this—okay, it feels sexy as hell, and lascivious and erotic—but it doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind.

His glass drops onto the desk.

“Crawl to me.”

I act on instinct, on impulse. Without thought, I crawl, keeping my eyes down and stretching my arms and legs like a sensual cat sauntering across the marble. I’m almost to the tips of his shoes when his voice shoots out.

“Stop.”

I do.

“So, you’ve been a submissive.”

“Yes.”

A rumble comes from his throat. “For how many men?”

Funny, I was wondering how many submissives he has in his past, except that I’m not completely sure I want to know the answer.

“Just one man.”

“Georgios.” He spits the name with curiosity and contempt. A powerful shiver goes through me. I can’t control my body’s reaction and I lose my position as my back dips down a bit.

“No. Never him.”

“One of his?” His voice echoes with warning.

“No.”

“Straighten your back.”

I do. With measured effort, I get my breathing under control. This is the second time Brent has implied that I spread my legs for Georgios and I’m over it. Even as I let my anger center me, I’m afraid of his. Always afraid of someone else’s anger.

“Good girl.”

His praise warms me and I relax.

“On your knees and spread them wide for me. As wide as you can.”

Thank God, I can get up. I shake my hands to get some feeling back into them as I get to my knees and settle back. Painful tingles race along my legs as I readjust and spread my legs. I sneak a look at Brent and holy shit, he’s hot like this. His tie hangs loose around his neck, the top buttons of his dark blue shirt undone. He’s sitting back in his chair, legs wide apart, one arm draped over his middle.