The Obsessed With Him Series: Complete Box Set (A Bad Boy Romance) (6 page)

But I didn’t have to worry about that, because a second later, a man came barreling out of the room and into the hallway. Mick. He was wearing a blue and black flannel shirt over a pair of stone washed jeans. There were work boots on his feet and he stomped by me down the hall.

I held my breath and waited for him to ask me what the hell I was doing there, but he didn’t even look at me. He just pushed by me, his weathered face crinkled into annoyance.

I let out the breath I was holding and peeked into the room Mick had just left.

Colt was standing there, his hands gripping the edge of a huge desk, his head lowered. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He stood up and slammed his fist down on the desk. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Wow,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

He looked up, his eyes blazing, ready to get in a fight with the first person he saw. That’s how angry he was. I recognized it because I’d had that kind of anger inside of me before. But instead of expressing it the way Colt was doing, I pushed it down as far as I could, until I couldn’t control it anymore. And then I would cut myself.

You could argue that Colt’s way of dealing with his emotions was healthier, that at least he was trying to release them. But I knew better – you didn’t get that angry in the first place unless there was something unhealthy going on in your life. Out-of-balance emotions were the product of an out-of-balance life.

You’d think that since I knew that, I should be able to fix the things that were making me feel that kind of pain. But it was one thing to understand
why
you had anger, or felt the need to cut yourself. It was quite another to try and fix whatever it was that was causing it.

“What are you doing here?” Colt said when he realized it was me. “I told you to stay in the car.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not good at following directions”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Colt said. “Go back to the car, Olivia.” I didn’t like the way he said my name this time, like he was in charge of me, like I needed to be scolded.

“No,” I said. “Not until you give me back my purse.”

“I’m not letting–” he started. But then he shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “You want your bag? Here.” He reached over and picked my purse up from where it was sitting on the windowsill. “Here you go. Now you’re free to go back to the shelter, take the city bus, sleep on the streets, whatever it is you’re determined to do.”

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out to take it from him. Our fingertips brushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but I felt like he hung onto my bag for a beat longer than was necessary, like he wanted me to stay.

Our eyes met, and my breath hitched. For the first time, I saw something beneath the surface in him –
hurt.
I thought about his anger just now, how he pounded the desk like he did, how that man Mick was yelling at him, and I wondered if there was more to Colt than I’d first thought.

Maybe he wasn’t just a rich skeezy guy who ran a strip club and got everything handed to him.

And then, just like that, his eyes hardened again. The hurt was gone, but now it was replaced by something else, something intangible. Regret? It was odd, but I had the feeling he wanted me to stay here, with him. And not just because he thought it was the right thing to do.

“Thanks,” I said as finally he let go of my bag.

“You’re welcome.”

We both stood there for a second, just looking at each other. It was weird, because nothing had happened to make me feel connected to him, except that I’d seen him get angry. And I couldn’t explain it, but somehow, I wanted to take his pain away.

That invisible pull I’d felt toward him earlier, when I was dancing for him, and again back at his apartment, returned, stronger than ever. But now it wasn’t the pull of lust – now it was something else, something deeper.

You have to help him.

“Colt – ” I started, my voice soft. I wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that whatever was going on would end up fine in the end. I wasn’t sure I believed that – the whole it’s going to be okay in the end bullshit that some people liked to spew. But I needed to say something.

“Good luck, Princess,” Colt said, cutting me off. That playful little lilt was back in his voice, whatever vulnerability I’d seen had replaced with his usual cockiness. He reached his hand out for me to shake.

I took it, his hand enveloping mine, big and strong and warm. My breath hitched in my chest, and I could hear the blood rushing through my ears. My body was on alert again, that connection I’d felt with him thrumming in the air, electric.

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to walk out of this room and never see him again. I couldn’t explain it, but I just… I didn’t.

“So,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “What was that business proposition you were talking about earlier?”

“Business proposition?” He frowned, confusion flooding his face.

“Yeah, back at your apartment. You said you had a business proposition for me?”

“Oh.” He shook his head. “It was nothing. It was a stupid idea, especially now.”

“Especially now?”

“Yeah, this girl – ” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

Was he talking about the girl I’d seen in that other room, the one who was crying? I wanted to ask him, but I was afraid if I pushed, he would kick me out.

“Really?” I asked. “Because it kind of sounded important.”

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t… you wouldn’t be good at it.”

My jaw dropped. “I wouldn’t be good at it?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that you’d have to listen to me. I’d be your boss. And you’re not good at following directions.”

“First of all,” I said. “You don’t know me well enough to know whether or not I’m good at following directions.” And second of all…” I trailed off. “Second of all, I’m a very motivated employee.”

“Oh, really?” He was next to me in a flash, his body against mine, his breath warm on my cheek. “Motivated, huh?”

“Yes.” I forced myself to keep my eyes on his.

“You’ll do anything I say?”

My breath hitched again, and I closed my eyes because I couldn’t take looking at him. He was just so damn beautiful, and I was afraid I was going to lose my mind or do something crazy, that’s how much I didn’t want to leave this room, how much I wanted to stay here with him. In that moment, I would have don’t anything he wanted.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Anything.”

He ran the back of his knuckle over my jawbone, then leaned in even closer to me. “You’d have to live with me. I’d need to keep an eye on you.”

I nodded, then forced myself to open my eyes, not caring if he kissed me, not caring if I broke my promise to Declan.

“Okay,” I said.

He grinned, then put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my hair up gently. Then he closed his eyes and leaned down, his mouth coming closer to mine, his lips full and perfect. I held my breath and waited for him to kiss me.

But a second later, he froze and opened his eyes.

“Wow, Princess,” he said, “you really meant it.”

My legs were jello, my knees so weak I was afraid I was going to fall over. And he’d been bluffing the whole time. I didn’t know whether to be pissed or relieved.

“I told you,” I said, trying to match his cocky tone, like I’d won, like I’d called his bluff, even though I’d had no idea he was messing with me.

Colt leaned back against the desk, and looked up at the ceiling, like he was thinking it over. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll give it a trial run.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what the job is first?”

“The less you know, the better.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that for right now, you don’t need to know the specifics of what I’m asking you to do.”

“Because it’s dangerous?” I pressed. I thought of that girl again, her hair in ragged strands, a jagged scratch across her face.

He sighed. “It’s not dangerous, exactly, it’s just better if you don’t know the details.” He looked at me. “Do you trust me?”

“I hardly know you.”

“It’s not going to work if you don’t trust me.”

I opened my mouth to tell him it was impossible to trust someone you’d only known for a few hours, but then I realized something – whatever this job was, whatever he wanted me to do, he must be pretty desperate if he was willing to let me, a girl he barely knew, become involved. It must have been something he needed a certain kind of person to do, and although I didn’t know the exact characteristics of that kind of person, I must have had them.

He wanted something from me. And no matter how successful someone was, no matter how rich, how good-looking, when they wanted something from you, you had power over them. I could get something from Colt. Probably anything I wanted.

And there was only one thing I wanted, one thing I’d ever wanted. The thing I was willing to risk anything for, the thing that had led me here in the first place.

“How did you know where I was staying?” I asked.

“What?”

“How did you know where I was staying?” I asked. “You figured out I was staying at the Walnut Street shelter, you somehow had them agree to send my things to your apartment.”

He sighed and looked at me like I was a child. “Olivia,” he said. “When you have money, you can pretty much do whatever you want.”

He might have thought he was clueing me in to some universal truth, but I already knew this – money got things done. It wasn’t the way the world should work, it was unfair and unjust and you could debate the reasons why for hours. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. All I was interested in was getting him to admit that money could get you things you wanted.

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t ask questions. I’ll trust you, I’ll even stay at your apartment. But I want something in return.”

“Of course I’m going to pay you, Princess. What kind of guy do you think I am?” He raised his eyebrows at me and gave me that smarmy grin again, letting me know he knew exactly what kind of guy he was.

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, I expect to be paid. But I want something else, too.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“I want you to find someone for me.”

“Who?”

“Declan Keene.”

Colt frowned. “Who the hell is Declan Keene?”

I raised my chin into the air, daring him to contradict what I was about to say. “He’s the man I’m going to marry.”

C
olt looked at me incredulously
. “How old you are you?” he demanded.

“Twenty,” I said, hoping I sounded haughty. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know that at twenty, you have no idea who you’re going to marry.” He shook his head. “So you can forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“Forget about me finding some asshole you have some crazy crush on. Let me guess. He dumped you. And now you’re obsessed with him and think if you can just see him again, he’ll realize what he’s missing. Like your life is some kind of fucking romantic comedy.”

“What?” I asked. “No! He didn’t dump me.” I was pissed. Pissed that Colt was acting like I was some kind of silly schoolgirl trying to stalk some guy who had no interest in her. “Declan was my foster brother.”

Colt raised his eyebrows. “Jesus,” he said. “You think you’re going to marry your
brother?”

“No! He’s not…we’re not related. He’s my foster brother. Well, was my foster brother.” I expected Colt to give me a sad look, or say something sympathetic, the way people always did when they found out I’d been in foster care. But Colt just held his hands up and took a few steps away from me, like maybe my crazy was contagious.

“Hey,” he said. “What you do on your own time…”

“You know what?” I said. “You can go fuck yourself.” I turned around and headed for the door. I didn’t need this. He needed help from me, too. He should have been kissing my ass, but instead, he was mocking me. And if I wanted to be ridiculed, I could get that any day of the week, just by interacting with society.

“Okay, okay,” Colt said, reaching out and grabbing my arm. “Wait. I’ll help you find Deacon.”

“Declan.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And what do I have to do for you?”

“Whatever I want,” he said, his voice a mix of husky and cocky. He took a step toward me. “Are you okay with that?”

“Bring it,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“Good.” He looked at me. “The first thing we have to do is get you an outfit.”

“An outfit?”

“Yeah. You’re going to be working here.”

“Oh.” I twisted my hands nervously, hoping he couldn’t tell how anxious I was. “I’m going to be stripping?”

This seemed to amuse him. “Are you serious?” he asked. “You really think I would hire you as a stripper after that audition?”

“What was wrong with my audition?” I countered, even though of course I knew what was wrong with my audition.

“You ran out in the middle of it.”

“Just because I didn’t want to get naked for you, doesn’t mean –”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to get naked in front of the guys out there?” He shook his head. “Trust me. If you can’t get naked for me, you can’t get naked for them. And besides, you
did
want to get naked for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Then why didn’t I?”

“Because you were afraid.”

“Afraid?” I repeated “Afraid of what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I wasn’t afraid.” I swallowed and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m in love with someone else, is all.”

“Mmm. Deacon.”

“Declan!”

“Right. The guy you need me to help you to find, because you have no idea where he is.”

“Yes,” I said. “But that’s not my fault.”

“What isn’t?”

“That I don’t know where he is. Once we aged out of foster care, it was impossible to keep track of him.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “In this day and age of facebook and skype and cell phones, it was impossible to keep track of him?”

“I don’t have a cell phone,” I said. “Or a computer.”

“You don’t have a cell phone or a computer?”

I shook my head. “Sorry if that offends your privileged white boy sensibilities.”

“Nothing offends me,” Colt said. He reached over and pushed a button on the phone that was sitting on the desk in the corner. After a second, a girls’ voice answered. “Jessa,” he said. “Can you bring me a waitress uniform?”

“Sure,” she said. “What size?”

Colt’s eyes racked up my body, taking in my legs, my hips, my breasts. “What’s your dress size?” he asked.

“Six.”

“And your bra size?”

I swallowed. “36C.”

He grinned, and relayed the information to the girl on the phone.

“So I’m going to be a waitress?” I asked. I could definitely handle that. Being a waitress sounded like it wouldn’t be that hard. I imagined myself bustling through the tables, serving food and drinks, making conversation with the customers.

“Cocktail waitress,” Colt said. “Have you ever waitressed before?”

I shook my head. “But one of my foster families had ten kids, and I was the oldest, so I served a lot of meals. It was kind of like being a waitress.”

“Trust me,” Colt said. “Our customers are not kids. They’re men looking for a certain kind of service. Do you know what that means?”

“It means they want me to have sex with them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Well, yes, maybe. But most of all they want you to make them feel special.”

There was a knock on the door, and the bartender, the one who had answered the phone when I’d called about the audition, came walking into the room holding a plastic dry cleaner bag.

“Jessa,” Colt said. “Have you met Olivia?”

“Yes,” I said at the same time Jessa said, “No.”

“We met earlier,” I reminded her. “Remember?”

She shrugged. “Colt,” she said. “Are you going to have time later to go over the vendor orders with me?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll catch you on the way out.”

She gave him a smile, and I saw a flash of something in her blue eyes before she turned and walked out the door.
He’s mine.
She wanted me to know that Colt was off-limits. Were Colt and Jessa together? Was that why she had been so rude to me earlier?

“Here you go, Princess,” Colt held the bag out to me. “Try it on.”

I took it. “Where should I change?”

“Here.”

“In front of you?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

I hesitated, and he rolled his eyes. “You can change over there, behind the screen.” He pointed to the corner of the room, where there was a room divider set up. It was cream-colored, with a red and blue abstract design printed on it.

I took a deep breath and slid behind it, then pulled the plastic bag off the uniform and studied it. It was a short pleated black skirt with a black push-up bustier with spaghetti straps. There was a tiny black thong to wear underneath it. It was revealing, but not anything worse than you’d see out in a club.

I slid out of the clothes Colt had given me and into the uniform. Even without a mirror, I could tell it was way too small. The waist was fine, but the skirt was so short that bottom of my ass was hanging out. My breasts were pushed together and practically falling out of the top. There was a cut out in the top of the bustier, and it tied in the middle, holding your breasts together.

“Colt?” I called. “My uniform is too small.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Let. Me. See.”

“No.”

But he appeared a second later, sticking his head around the side of the partition, taking me in. I tried to cross my arms over my chest, but that only served to push my breasts together more.

“Jesus,” he said when he saw me.

“I told you it was too small.”

“No,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s not. My chest can’t fit in the top and the skirt is way too short.”

Colt reached out and slowly, deliberately, grabbed my arms and pulled my hands down from where I was covering my breasts so that he could see me. My breath hitched as he stood there, so tall he was almost towering over me, staring down at my tits.

I saw the desire searing in his eyes.

“You’re not wearing it right,” he said. “You need to tie it tight in the middle.” He reached up to undo the strips of material, but I grabbed his hands and stopped him.

“Don’t,” I said. “I can do it.”

But he just gave me that cocky grin again, then moved my hands from where they were grasping his and pulled them back down to my sides. “Don’t argue with your boss, Princess,” he said.

He let go of my hands and his fingers slid up my bare arms, leaving goose bumps all over me and sending a shiver up my spine. He caressed me all the way up to my shoulders, then slid his hands down over my chest and untied my uniform. For a terrifying, amazing, exhilarating moment I thought he was going to take the top off completely, untie the whole thing, giving him a full view of my breasts. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just untied the strips of fabric, then pulled them tight before tying them back together.

“Turn around,” he demanded.

I turned around, and felt his hands on my hips, adjusting my skirt, pulling it down just a tiny bit on my hip bones. With it pulled down like that, the skirt covered my ass cheeks a bit more, but I still felt exposed, especially in the tiny thong. And with the way he’d tied my shirt, it hitched up a bit, leaving a strip of my stomach bare.

“I can’t wear this,” I said. “I can’t… I mean, I wouldn’t…” I wanted to tell him there was no way I could ever be seen in public in something like this. I was stupid to ever think I could be a stripper, stupid to think I could ever be sexy. I thought it would be easy, that I could just disconnect from my body and not have to worry about the men staring at me. What I didn’t stop to think about was how
I
would feel about myself, how I would feel about showing my body, about being arrogant enough to think that anyone would want to see it.

“Come here,” Colt said, taking me by the shoulders. He marched me over to the door and shut it. There was a mirror hanging to the back, one of those full-length ones, and he positioned me in front of it.

“No,” I said, turning away from my reflection. “Please, I don’t want to.”

But he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me back around. “Look,” he said.

“I’m not sexy, Colt, “ I said. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s not even a bad thing. It’s just… it is what it is.” I didn’t feel bad saying the words out loud. I
wasn’t
sexy. It wasn’t a matter of opinion, and I wasn’t just being hard on my self. I wasn’t saying I was ugly. I didn’t think I was ugly. I could be cute, maybe, on a good day, but I wasn’t sexy.

“You are so sexy,” Colt said, and I locked eyes with him in the mirror. He reached up and grabbed my hair tie, sliding it down my ponytail until my hair was loose, brushing against my bare shoulders. He slid his hands through the strands, and I shivered.

Then he turned and grabbed a bag that Jessa had left on the desk, opened it and pulled out a pair of sparkly black high heels.

He dropped them on the floor and gestured for me to put them on.

I slid my feet into the shoes, and the high heel instantly made my legs look longer, my body slimmer. But just because the heels made me look a little better, the outfit was still extremely skimpy. I was self-conscious, and I instinctively began pulling at the uniform again, trying to pull the skirt down to cover my ass.

“No,” Colt said, shaking his head. He grabbed my hands again. “That’s how you wear it.” He was standing behind me, so close that I could feel his chest pushed up against my back. His grip on my wrists was strong and controlling, and I remembered him catching me back at his house, in the bathroom with the razor in my hand. What had he said?

You want to forget? I can make you forget.

I thought about what it would be like to kiss him, to let him do whatever he wanted to me. The thought made my skin tingle and I felt myself start to get wet.

His eyes were still locked on mine in the mirror, and then his gaze slid down my reflection, making no effort to hide the fact that he was ogling me, that he was looking at my body, at my breasts, my hips, my legs. He pushed himself into me harder, and I could feel the tautness of his stomach and how broad his chest was.

“Can you handle it?” he breathed into my ear, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

“Handle it?’ I repeated.

“Wearing this. Helping me. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

“I’m in,” I said, before I could change my mind.

“Good,” he said. And then he gave me that smile. That cocky little smile. The smile that made me think I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

“You can start tonight.”

“Tonight?” I asked. “Oh, um, well… I mean, won’t there be like a training period or something?”

He shrugged. “Jessa can tell you what to do. It’s not that hard. You take orders and offer drinks. Not that complicated.” He looked at his watch. “The club will be opening in a couple hours.”

“Okay. Should I… I mean, is it okay to change?”

“What?”

“I can’t wear this around for two hours.”

“Yes, you can,” he said. “You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I like looking at you in it. And because I’m the boss.”

And then he turned around and walked out of the room.

I
followed him
, practically chasing him down the hall, struggling to keep up with him in my high heels.

“Hey,” I said as we passed by the door where I’d seen that girl crying. “What was the deal with that girl?”

“What girl?” Colt asked.

“The girl who was crying in there.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me. “What are you talking about?”

“There was this girl in there.” I gestured to the room. “She had a big welt on her face, and her hair was chopped off. She was crying.”

Colt’s face darkened, his jaw twitching. And then he laughed. “Nice,” he said. “You had me going there for minute.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you almost had me believing you.”

“It’s true,” I said. “I saw her. She was crying and there was a man comforting her. She looked like she’d been beaten up.”

Colt stared at me for a long moment and then finally he said, “I don’t know anything about that. And this is my club. If something like that had happened, I would know about it. I’m not sure what you think you saw, but I’d be careful about spreading rumors.”