The Complete Arrogant Series (24 page)

I force a tight-lipped smile and nod toward the T.V., trying
desperately to ignore the obnoxious amount of power this stranger wields in his
unrelenting stare.

Matt refills my drink, pouring clear to the top.

Numb warmth invades my cheeks at the same time.

This must be what a buzz feels like.

“So what exactly are you celebrating today?” Dane asks.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a young woman drinking champagne at eleven o’clock
on a Tuesday.”

“New job.” I refuse to make eye contact. I’m disengaging and
hoping it’s only a matter of time before he takes the hint.

“Where?”

I swallow hard and clear my throat lightly.

Of course he would ask that.

“Mutchler Corporation.”

His head tilts and his lips jut for a second. “Ah. Working
for Randy?”

My heart sputters to a stop.

“Right.” I force
a coolness
in my
tone that implies I wholeheartedly believe my own lies.

“What will you be doing at RJM?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” My brows lift as my eyes dart
to him, desperate to gauge whether or not he’s buying this. “It’s not exactly
official yet. Nothing’s been signed. The terms and titles are private. You know
how that goes.”

He can’t argue the details if I give him none.

His palm rakes across the underside of his smooth, cleft
chin as the corners of his mouth lift enough to show a hint of dimples. “I know
exactly
how that goes. I know Randy
quite well. We run in the same…
circles
.”

My cheeks flood with red, and I tilt my head down just
enough that my hair covers them. Funny how lying could make me feel so powerful
and invincible a second ago, and then this man so easily flips it all on its
side.

“Randy mentioned he was going to be hiring a…
concierge
.” Dane holds a wicked flash in
his steely gaze. “What’s a girl like you doing taking a job like
that
?”

“It sounded like an interesting job.” I sweep my hair from
my shoulder and take another slow sip. “I guess I was the most qualified
applicant.”

Vagueness and ambiguity fuels this conversation though I’m
not sure how much longer I can keep this running.

“You don’t want to work for Randy,” he says, leaning into
me. He flashes a white smile, the first one I’ve seen on him since he walked in
here. My attraction to him, as much as I try to fight it, soars off the charts
for a moment. “Trust me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you should be working for me.”

I lean away, a laugh bubbling in my balled stomach. “You
don’t mince words, do you?”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go
after it.”

“Are you proposing that I work for you instead?”

“I’m demanding that you not work for Randy.” His gaze floods
my veins with warmth and overruns my thought process for a moment. “You’re all
wrong for him. Believe me when I tell you that.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

I came to the city for a job. I’m determined to leave with
one.

At
any cost.

“It depends,” he says. “Can you offer me the same services,
terms, and agreements you were going to offer Randy as his concierge?”

“Of course.” I fight the rush of crimson that tries to
consume my entire
body,
never knowing it was possible
to blush from head to toe. My gut tells me I’ve no idea what I’m agreeing to,
but I have no other choice. Flipping burgers back home and babysitting for
local neighborhood families isn’t going to fill my bank account with the kind
of money I need to secure my future and ensure I don’t end up married off to
Cortland or any other polygamous asshole.

I need a
real
job,
and this man is offering me one.

“When can you start?”

“Just like that, you’re hiring me?” I try to hide the
excitement in my tone, but my words are rushed, and my lips are twisted into a
smile. “You don’t want to interview me first? Check my references?”

“I don’t need to check your references. The fact that Randy
Mutchler wanted you tells me all I need to know.” He leans back, cocking his
elbow against the bar. Our bodies are perfectly aligned though I’m not sure
about our intentions. “He’s a very particular man. I’m sure he’s run you
through a battery of tests.”

Now would be a great time to tell him I’m a dirty, rotten
liar.

“Can I think about it?” If I jump all over this chance, the
way I want to, he’ll call my bluff, and this’ll all be over.

“What’s there to think about?” His dark brow rises while the
other one
slants
.

“Salary. Benefits.”

Dane smirks. “Randy’s a cheap bastard. I can assure you
anything he’s offered you will be paltry compared to my compensation package.”

My heart races and then pounds hard until I hear it
whooshing in my ears.

“How much was he offering you?” His brows meet.

“Fifteen,” I say, meaning fifteen dollars per hour.

“I’ll give you twenty.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Twenty grand
per month to start. It’s not negotiable.”

My entire being tenses as I try to play it cool. I’m
screaming on the inside, jumping, flipping, and cartwheeling from here to the
Catalina Islands.

“Twenty is fine.”

“You’ll start Monday.” There’s finality in his voice as if
he’s signaling that this discussion is over, and it’s over because he says it
is. His grey-blue eyes flicker and settle before he rises from his bar stool.

“And what is it I’ll be doing for you exactly?”

“Everything you were going to be doing for Randy.” He
reaches into his left breast pocket and pulls out his card, our fingers grazing
as we exchange the thick cardstock embossed with his company’s logo. His other
hand works his wallet from his suit jacket. He turns for a moment to pull out a
crisp,
one-hundred
dollar bill and presses it into the
bar top. “Your champagne is on me. I’ll see you next week.”

BELLAMY

“I got the job.” I drop my bag on the kitchen island where
two of my three mothers are chopping fruit for what looks like a bowl of
ambrosia. My current state of excitement completely overrides the fact that I
have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. “Just like I said I would.”

Summer, my father’s second wife, glances up at me before
shooting a look at my mother, Jane. She says nothing but her look says it all.
They disapprove of me wanting to work outside the house. The only reason my
father agreed was because I suggested I could work for a few months to save up
money for my future wedding, which he believes will be happening soon now that
I’m courting Cortland. Ultimately, my mothers’ ideas of a woman’s role involve
birthing babies and cleaning house while remaining faithful and loyal to their
dominant husbands.

“That’s great, sweetie.” My mom’s voice is as
fake
as the red lipstick she wore at dinner when Cortland
visited last week.

“You’re really happy for me, Mom?”

I know she’s not, but I want to hear her lie one more time
if only to prove that everybody does it.

“Of course.”

She’s definitely a liar. Not unlike myself today. That and
she
doesn’t
want to say something that could warrant a
private talk from my father after dinner about morals and sinning. It turns
into a whole church sermon by the time he’s done.

Those are annoying.

His talks require taking a seat in his den and listening to
him lecture while appearing agreeable and remorseful for having thoughts that
didn’t jive with the way he ran his family.

Kath, his third wife, had it the worst. She wasn’t raised
with the confines of AUB teachings. Polygamy was new to her. This religion was
new to her. She learned after the first year to stop questioning so much and to
just submit.

“Where are you working again?” Summer asks as if I haven’t
already told them a million times.

“Some corporation in Salt Lake City. I’m sure you’ve never
heard of it.” My mind goes to the script on the business card. “Townsend Energy
Holdings. They’re a renewable energy organization.”

Sadly, that’s the only thing I know. I’d Google him if I
could.

But I can’t. My father has a Christian
internet
filter installed on my laptop. I can only access religious and educational
websites.

“Oh, so like solar energy? Wind energy?” Summer dumps a
handful of chopped pineapple into a bowl of marshmallows.

“Exactly.” I nod, wearing the confident expression I
summoned from the depths of my liar-liar-pants-on-fire soul.

“Don’t get too attached to this job,” Mom says through
half-pursed lips. Her nose scrunches as she shoots me a look. “You know it’s
only temporary. Once you marry Cortland, he may not want you working outside
the home.”

These fools really believe I’m going to marry Cortland.

“Yes, I know. I’m just saving money for my future. For
our
future.” I lean my elbows against
the counter. “If it’s God’s will that I marry Cortland, we’ll have a beautiful
wedding and a nice war chest to start our life with. And this gives me
something to channel my energy into for the time being. I hate to be one of
those girls who obsess over their future husband, you know?
Like
Holly Dwyers from church.
Remember her? And that man ended up deciding
not to marry her in the end. That girl needed a hobby outside of courting.”

“Cortland came into your life at just the right time. I’ve
been saying for months now that it’s time for you to meet someone, Bellamy,”
Summer
says. Her eyes light up and mist at the same time.
“No one deserves to be lonely.”

News flash, I’m not lonely. Finding a man is the least of my
concerns.

“I can’t wait for you to have babies.” Summer grins ear to
ear like my future is playing before her eyes on some imaginary movie screen.
“You’re so good with the kids. You’re going to be a great mother. I just know
it.”

“I’m just glad she’ll be a first wife,” my mother
interjects, her eyes on me. “Firstborns are stubborn and headstrong. Bellamy
would never do well as number two or three or, God-forbid, four. Can you
imagine Bellamy being that far down the chain of command?”

“Is that how you think of us, Jane?” Summer leans against
the counter, her smile fading. “As numbers? Less superior than yourself?”

They bicker like sisters sometimes, though I suppose that’s
basically what they are: sisters with a spiritual bond who share a husband.

Totally normal.

Everybody does it.

Psh.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I was simply stating an
observation about my daughter,” my mother fires back.

“
Our
daughter,”
Summer
reminds her.

I slip out unnoticed and trek up to my room to slip out of
my pencil skirt and button down. My hand traces the lines of the calendar
hanging above my desk. I lift a few pages until I get to August.

Four more months.

I did the math in the car on the way home.

All I need is four more months, and then I should be able to
afford a place for my eighteen-year-old sister, Waverly, and myself to stay while
we figure things out, because I’m taking her with me. If my father is itching
to marry me off, she’s going to be next. She’s about to graduate from high
school. I can’t leave her behind. And someday we’ll come back for the others.

Four more months until my life is
my own.

I’ll be able to give my body and soul and heart and mind to
a man of my choosing when I choose to do it.

I’ll belong to no one.

I’ll submit to no one.

Submission has never been in my DNA.

DANE

“Hate me yet, Randy?”

I lean back in my chair, my free hand gripping the leather
armrest as I spin around to take in the foggy morning view of the city. Randy
Mutchler wheezes on the other end of the phone. Being a larger man has never
stopped him from nailing his fair share of beautiful women on a regular basis,
especially women who find money particularly arousing.

I may have swiped his newest conquest out from under him,
but the way I look at it, I was doing her a favor.

She’ll thank me someday.

“Every single day,” Randy puffs, his voice rattling. He
really should lay off the cigars.

“I’m sure you’ll find another.” I insert a smile into my
voice that to anyone else might seem lighthearted, but to me, it’s victorious.
“She’ll be better off with me. I get the impression she’s slightly green.
Breaking them in is what I do best. You know that.”

“No clue what you’re talking about, Dane.” I hear papers
rustling around in the background. As per usual, Randy is attempting to
multitask and failing miserably. He’s not listening.

“The girl,” I say, sitting up. I glance at my watch. She
should be here any minute. My H.R. department contacted her last week and gave
her strict orders, but it seems as though timeliness might have to be our first
lesson. “The blonde with the pouty pink lips and the clear blue eyes?”

“You’re describing two-thirds of the girls who frequent the
Crystal Swan.”

We’re clearly not on the same page.

“I’m not talking about the club, Randy. I’m talking about
Bellamy Miller.” I say her name out loud for the first time since last week.

“Not ringing a bell.”

My smile evaporates, and the room heats.

She lied.

The girl with the fuck-me mouth and the tight, candy ass.
The girl with the hips that flare out just enough to send me into a
desperate state of craving the warmth of her stinging flesh under my palm
.

I fucking
hate liars.

“I met her last week. She said you’d just hired her, and she
couldn’t discuss the terms. I assumed she was your new concierge.” I massage my
left temple.

Randy’s laughter whistles through the receiver. “I hired a
bunch of college grads recently for some cubicle grunt work. Maybe she was one
of them? I don’t know. Name doesn’t sound familiar. Still looking for that
perfect concierge. You know how that is.”

Yes. I know exactly how that is. I’ve had three failed
parings this year alone. Two of them were too experienced, bringing in
unfavorable habits from their previous Doms, and one was too stupid to live.

Line two rings. My assistant’s name flashes on the caller
I.D.

“Randy, I’m letting you go.”

More like I’ll see him at the Crystal Swan. That’s how I
first met the horny bastard. He was a premier member of a local sexual
sanctuary. We were locked in a bidding war over spending one night with a
charming twenty-five-year-old with flawless teardrop breasts, the kind that
look perfect when strapped between a complex rope
arrangement
.

I hang up with Randy and take Marlene’s call.

“Your new assistant is here,” she says. “Shall I send her
in?”

I slick my thumb across my brow bone before adjusting my
tie.
She’s four minutes late.
“Send her back. Then
tell Laurie Madsen in H.R. she’ll be there soon. I’d like to have a quick word
with her before I send her down.”

“Yes, sir.”

A sharp breath drags past my lips as I wait for my new
“concierge.” My mind fills with a million punishments I’d thoroughly enjoy
bestowing upon her right now, but we need to get a few things out of the way
first.

The door swings open a second later. I expect her to freeze
in my doorway, to wait for my command or permission to enter. Instead, she
shuts the door behind her and struts to my desk, taking a seat across from me.

Bellamy has no idea what she’s agreed to.

She’s perfectly at ease around me. Confident. Buoyant and
much too self-assured in the presence of a man who’d break her in ways she’d
never imagine.

We’ll need to fix that soon.

That is…if I decide I’m going to keep her.

“How’s your morning?” Her voice is breathy in the most
tantalizing of ways. A soft sigh leaves her mouth before it curls into a sweet
smile.

“It could be better.”

She doesn’t frown or wince or pry. If she wants to stand a
chance around here, she’s going to have to learn to read me. And fast.

“Sorry to hear that,” she says.

“It’s always disappointing when my employees fail to show up
on time their first day.”

Her lips form a circular shape as her eyes widen. A
manicured hand flies to the tiny hint of cleavage peeking from her white
blouse. She looks like she should be in church and not executively assisting a
man who’ll fully expect her on all fours at some point in the near future.

“Am I late?” She glances around the room in search of a
clock.

I reach for the antique pewter desk clock and flip it around
to face her. “Yes.”

“I didn’t realize the walk from the parking garage to your
building would take this long. I’ll plan ahead going forward.”

Her apology lacks a certain respect, like a glaring typo in
a hastily written email.

“I don’t tolerate much, Miss Miller.” I fold my hands across
my desk, pinning her down with a scrutinizing stare. “Shall we go over my expectations?”

A wisp of platinum blonde hair falls across her shoulder,
splaying over the spot above her
cleavage, which I now see
is rising and falling in quick succession. She’s nervous. Her face may not show
it. Her words may not show it. But the rest of her says it all.

I’m going to take great pleasure in watching her bullshit
her way through the next several minutes with me given what revelation came to
light this morning.

“I do hope your expectations are realistic.” There’s a hint
of a laugh injected into her tone like she thinks this is funny.

It’s not.

Not to me.

“Expectations.” I let the word linger. “Tardiness is not
tolerated. Excessive lateness will go on your employee record, Miss Miller. And
reprimands will be assigned as I see fit.”

“I won’t be late again, sir.”

 
“Second,” I
continue, “Lying is a fire-able offense.”

“Shouldn’t we be going over job duties first?” She almost
interrupts me. I can only assume she’s trying to change the subject, knowing
full well she lied to get this job.

“You’ll be doing for me the same things you were going to do
for Mr. Mutchler.” My fingers form a peak as I await her response. “The duties
you said you couldn’t discuss with me.”

I fully expect her to slink back in her seat, exhale loudly,
hang her head, and admit that she’s a filthy liar.

“I’d like to tailor this relationship, Mr. Townsend.”

This girl is good.

“Working relationship,” she disclaims. “Tell me exactly what
you need from me, and I’ll deliver. That’s the way I operate. I’m grateful for
this opportunity, and I’ll do anything in my power to ensure it’s a mutually
beneficial arrangement.”

My mouth curls into a devilish leer. I’ve approached a fork
in the road, and I could easily take this in a completely different direction
if I were in a tortuous mood today.

She’s lucky I’m not.

“Well, then, we should discuss limits.” I exhale and hide
the secret pleasure I receive as I wait for her reaction.

“Limits? Can you be more specific?”

“Hard limits. Soft limits,” I say, teasing her with a trail
of breadcrumbs that will eventually lead her to her final destination. “Things
you will and won’t do.”

“I can’t imagine there’s much I wouldn’t do.”

God, she sounds like a fucking college graduate at a job
interview.

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” My mouth
hardens. “That’s the last thing you should ever do around me, Miss Miller.”

Her eyes snap toward the desk where my hands are clasped
hard, my thumb grazing over the curve of my opposite hand. My patience wears
thinner by the minute, and if we could fast-forward a bit, I’d be yanking those
pearls from around her neck and pressing her against the wall, two seconds from
claiming every inch of her nubile body as my own.

But seeing as how she has absolutely no idea what she’s
agreed to, taking her pretty pink mouth right now would completely disrupt our
dynamic.

“Absolutely.” An agreeable smile accompanies her
affirmation.

Bellamy is different. The subtle dominance I’ve injected
into our light conversation doesn’t seem to have an effect on her. She’s immune
to it. They say if you watch too much violence on T.V. or in the movies, little
by little it doesn’t affect you as much.

That’s how she is.

Another man has already dominated her.

Another man has owned her.

A heat sears through my body from head to toe at the thought
of her kneeling before another master. I knew from the moment I saw her,
Bellamy’s milky white flesh belonged in my grip.

I wanted to be the one to break her in, to own every inch of
her succulent physique.

“I spoke to Randy Mutchler this morning,” I said, my
impatience searing through me hot and uncontrollable. My fists clench, fighting
the urge to bend her over my knee and teach her not to lie to me again.

A white pallor fills her cheeks. “Oh. Y-yes?”

There we go. She’s stammering. I’m cracking her like the
thin sheet of ice that wraps around her underhanded intentions.

“He’d never heard of you.”

Her brows arch before they furrow.

Still, she says nothing.

“Isn’t that odd?” I scratch the spot just above my right
brow. “He offered you a very important job with secret terms, but he’d never
heard of you before.”

Silence.

“You understand that back at the bar, when I offered you
this position, you had ascertained that you’d just been hired by Randy Mutchler
as his concierge.” My arms fold. “Do you know what a concierge does?”

“They’re like a personal assistant.”

“Yes, Bellamy. That would be the standard definition of a
concierge.” I drag in a breath and cock my head. “But if you knew Randy
Mutchler, and if you ran in our circles, you’d know that the kinds of
concierges we hire are sexually submissive in nature.”

Her lips purse as she stares in her lap at her fidgeting
hands.

“I don’t know how you know Randy or why on earth you would
lie about something like that.”

She brushes hair from her face, running her teeth across her
lower lip. Her eyes drag slowly until they fall into mine. “You want the
truth?”

 
“Only if it’s
the actual truth. Don’t tell me another lie to cover up the ones you’ve already
spoken.”

I lean back, thinking about how perfect my hand would look
clenched under the soft spot of her jaw, her mouth pressed open just enough
that I could steal a ghost of a kiss from those fuckable lips.

I’ve never been so sexually aroused by a woman who’s found a
way to crawl under my skin and check off a whole host of my personal red flags.

Her silence concerns me.

“I haven’t got all day, Bellamy.” I tug my sleeve up and
check the time once more. This woman has wasted a half hour of my morning, and
I still haven’t prepped for my nine o’clock conference call with New York.
“Fine. I can ask questions. I’ll extract this information from you the best way
I know how.”

Bellamy’s hand drags down her pencil skirt and then hooks on
her crossed knee. “I am a liar. I lied to you. There’s no other way to put it.
I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Her mouth parts once more, as if she’s going to speak, but
she hesitates. Instead, she rises, gathering her things, and turns to leave.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve met her at the door, slamming my open
palm against it before she has a chance to escape.

And that’s what it is really.

She’s escaping.

Escaping her consequences.

“You can’t just offer a quick apology and dash out the door,
Bellamy.”

I startle her, forcing her to take a step back as she
clutches her bag across her chest. I fully expect to find fear in her angelic
face. Instead, the slight flare of her nostrils and her refusal to look me in
the eye suggest she’s packed full of an impressive amount of ire.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes give in, daring to meet mine.