More, Please(2)
“Oh, really?” a girlie voice spat back at what was definitely Hunter. “As I recall, you didn’t specify any of this in your precious contract.”
“If you look at the detail, you will see that I covered any acts that might reflect badly on my dealings in a social or business aspect. My housemate having wild orgies, participating in flogging, bondage, self-mutilation, among other things, is not something I want your strangers spreading around my circles of influence.”
“Your live-in housemate? You arrogant prick! What happened to fiancée?”
“This is a business arrangement, Blaire, between your father and mine. I went along with it to attempt to cut my father out of my life. This was understood in the negotiations that you sat in on. Since he has not been cut out of my life—he’s more in it now than before this agreement—I’ll be looking into a breach of contract.”
“Is that right?” she snapped with a cutting and snide voice. “So let me get this straight. You won’t fuck me, but you don’t want anyone else fucking me, either? What am I supposed to do, take up a monk robe?”
I heard a sigh that was distinctly Hunter’s. “I’m not saying to stop having sex, Blaire. I’m saying go about it with some discretion, or take it somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else? I live here, too, Mister Carlisle. And don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here. Your cook told me all about your pretty little piece of ass. She was trying to throw it in my face, the bitch. I’ll bet that’s the street trash secretary I’ve heard about, right? You’re not only fucking the hired help, now you’re bringing them around?”
I withered against the wall. I should really turn around and walk away. I didn’t need to hear any of this. At the same time, the roadblock that was Blaire, and the contract she represented, was now very clear. She might not love Hunter, but she wanted him. She didn’t sound like a girl that was happy not getting what she wanted.
“Watch yourself there, Blaire,” Hunter was saying in a low and dangerous tone.
Blaire scoffed. “So it is her. That’s your type, is it? Sweet and naive. I should’ve known. Men like you don’t want sexually enlightened; you want the dumb little virgin that you can lead around by the nose. Well fuck you, Hunter Carlisle. If I can’t have any fun, neither will you. If you keep bringing her around, I’ll make your life hell, you got that? I’ll show up at your business lunches, I’ll spread nasty rumors around your social circle—if you try to trade me in for a troll like that, so help me God, you will rue the day!”
A beat of silence passed before Hunter said, “Are you done?”
“Not even remotely, you controlling piece of shit. Not even remotely.” I heard the pounding of bare feet on wood before a wild-eyed woman emerged from the room along the hall. I sucked in a breath at her beauty. Hunter might’ve called it manufactured, but everyone else would call it model-worthy. Long blond hair framed her heart-shaped face in a series of waves. Her full lips, colored deep red, were currently pressed tight. Bright blue eyes and high cheekbones made her stunning. A long silk robe parted at the front, revealing a slim body with large, perky breasts and a cleanly shaved pubic area. She’d been fighting virtually in the nude. It hadn’t slowed her down at all.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” She slowed in her sensuous walk, not bothering to pull her robe closed. “If it isn’t our deflowered little princess…”
I stayed frozen against the wall for a moment, terrified for reasons I couldn’t explain.
“Come to find your master?” She stopped in front of me. Her hip jutted out.
I tore my eyes away from her bald pubic area, and then her exposed breasts. I really wasn’t used to being confronted by naked people.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to slide along the wall like a coward, trying to sneak past. Her eyes shone with a maniacal flare that said she was capable of extremely damaging things. I didn’t think rules bothered her, and I knew I would be the target if she decided to torch someone’s house while that someone was tied up inside.
“What’s sad is, you think he actually likes you. Let me fill you in, sweetheart. Hunter Carlisle doesn’t like anyone but himself. He is a selfish bastard with a giant ego, and he wants a fixer-upper to drape across his arm to appear like one of the people. To seem like one of his workers. You’re Cinderella for now, but you’ll be old news tossed in the garbage when he has what he wants.”
“Blaire!” Hunter’s voice boomed through the hallway. I jumped.