Dane looking at me like I'm some circus freak is the worst thing that could happen.
No.
Scratch that.
Dane firing me is the worst thing that could happen.
NINETEEN
DANE
She's so fucking fired.
I reach for the pewter desk clock and push it aside. She's not late. Yet. And any minute now, she's going to burst through my doors and tell me how sorry she is, and I'm not going to give a flying fuck.
My gaze flicks to the ceiling, and I push out a full sigh as the tick of the clock fills the room.
It was bad enough I spent Saturday morning burying my beloved uncle, the man who raised me when everyone else had dropped me off on the side of the road and left me for dead. But for Bellamy to discard me so easily?
Obnoxious.
Uncouth.
Boorish.
She's clearly not taking her job seriously. I was wrong about her, and that never happens. I suppose I saw something in her that day. A mix of beauty and innocence in the way she carried herself, and a fierceness in her attitude that seemed to overcompensate for the rampant sweetness that made up every other part of her.
But I digress.
There's only one reason a submissive would place me on the backburner.
My doors swing wide and an exasperated Bellamy donning a push-up bra and red-slicked lips saunters in like a woman on a mission. She closes the doors behind her and pushes the lock before rushing toward me and falling to her knees.
A delirious smile claims her ruby mouth and her hands reach for my belt buckle.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I push myself out of her reach.
"Making it up to you, Master," she says without pause. Her hands linger in the air, mid-grip, and the shine in her eyes is intense.
"No."
Bellamy's brows raise, a silent question mark, and I rise up and step away, straightening my belt. She has another thing coming if she thinks I can be bought off with some mind-altering mouth fucking on a Monday morning. I'm not that easy.
"Get up … no," I seethe. "Stay there. On your knees."
Her palms rest flat on her thighs, and her spine curls to match her slumped shoulders.
"You'll stare at the ground while I talk to you, and listen closely because I'm only going to say this one time."
"Wait."
She's got a lot of fucking nerve this morning.
"Are you asking for permission to speak?" I refuse to call her "Angel" today. She doesn't deserve the honor, and there's nothing angelic about a filthy con-artist.
"I just want to explain." She glances up at me, and for a millisecond, I consider it. "Please? Can I explain?"
"Absolutely not."
Her jaw unhinges. "But you don't understand – "
"You're fired, Bellamy. Take your personal belongings and leave the building. You have thirty minutes, and I strongly advise you not to make a scene."
I flatten my black tie and head to the window, turning my back to her in the figurative and literal sense.
"You're firing me because I couldn't make it to a date with you." Her voice breaks. "A date you sprung on me at the last minute, after I'd only been your employee for a handful of days. Do you realize how insane your expectations are? Cut me some slack. I mean, I blew you not once, but twice. I pranced around here in some bustier with my breasts hanging out, and I let you finger me in some fancy restaurant. I wear what you tell me to wear. I do what you tell me to do, and now I'm fired because I had absolutely no way of getting to you Saturday night? Do you even know how badly I wanted to be there?"
I turn to face her though I won't look at her yet. She standing tall now, and the strain that accompanies her words tells me she's seconds from a melt down.
"No, of course you don't know," she continues. "Because you don't let me talk. You don't let me say anything unless you give me permission. I guess because I'm a woman, my opinions don't mean anything to you. I'm just some holes to fill and another way for you to feel like you're the king of the world because apparently it's not enough to run a multi-million dollar company and look the way you do and have the world at your fingertips."
Correction. Multi-billion dollar company...
"Your opinions are important, Bellamy."
"Then why don't you act like it?"
"I was afraid this was going to happen." I turn to face the window again, resting my hands against the ledge and hanging my head. If it weren't so fucking early in the morning, I'd pour myself three fingers of Macallan and pass out on the sofa the rest of the day. It's been a long week, an even longer weekend, and a doubly as long Monday morning already.
"What?"
"I made my expectations to you perfectly clear. Did I not?"
"I guess."
"I told you, you're my release. This is purely a professional relationship. No feelings. No complications." My gaze narrows at the gray cityscape on this rainy April morning. Droplets bead against the window and condensation fog up the glass. "I spent the better part of last week training you, breaking you in. You were doing so well, too."
"You're overreacting, Dane."
"Oh, but I'm not."
If she only knew where I was coming from …
But she'll never know. My past is sealed. Locked in a vault and drowned in the bottom of the Pacific where it belongs.
"I wanted to be with you Saturday night." Her voice is closer now. I shudder when her palm presses against my shoulder. How dare she touch me without asking. "I had my dress ready to go. I knew how I was going to do my hair."
Her fingertips drag down my back before abandoning me. I turn to face her; only I find she's invading my space like she's my equal.
"I don't know why either," she says, her delicate fingers twisting the gold chain of the Cartier necklace around her neck. "I don't like to be tied up. It's not particularly enjoyable to have my mouth pounded until I'm gagging. And I certainly don't appreciate having to wear some kind of collar around my neck like I'm your pet."
That's because it's what you are.
"But I find myself thinking about you all the time. And to be honest, I don't know why." She yanks the chain from her neck in one fluid movement, and it crumbles into her hand. "You're arrogant. You're rude and demanding. You're ridiculously pretentious, lacking an ounce of humility, and yet I still find myself desperately seeking your constant approval."
She hands me the tangled chain, her soft skin brushing mine for the last time.
"And besides all that, I can't stop thinking about the way your cock would feel inside me. Mission accomplished, Dane. You got exactly what you wanted."
I try not to chuckle when she says that word. Cock. She enunciates every letter like it's a brand new word in her pristine vocabulary. A foreign word.
"That's how it works. Congratulations." I smirk. "You figured it out in a fraction of the time it takes the others."
"I don't even know why I like you." A palm flies toward my face before clenching into a tight fist. "And when I say that I like you, I don't mean it romantically. I know you're terrified of that word. I mean, like I think underneath this outrageous façade of yours, I'm pretty sure there's a halfway decent human being in there. I've caught glimpses of him here and there, but I've yet to meet him because I'm pretty sure you dominate him too. He's probably terrified to make an appearance because of you."
"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" I stifle a laugh as her narrowed gaze attempts to pin me to the window. "You're implying there are two sides to me, and that I bully my nice side into hiding. Listen to yourself, Bellamy, but I'm done. I've heard all I need to hear. I've allowed you to say your peace, and now you need to go."
With her chest jutting out and her chin held high, she says, "Fine. I'll go."
That's all?
For reasons inexplicable, I'm almost disappointed that she's lowering her dukes and ending her fight. I quite liked her feisty side because while she was spewing her craziness, I was having my way with her in my head. Pinning her to the wall, ripping her dress off, pushing my fingers as deep inside of her as they would go, and fucking her until she's a crumpled heap on the floor begging for one more round.
It was an entertaining way to bide the time.
"Before you go," I say, stopping her in her tracks. "Just tell me why."
Jenessa's reason at least made sense though it didn't make it excusable.
"Why what?"
"Why you would sub for me when you belong to another man?"
Her jaw falls, but she picks it up quickly. "I don't belong to anyone."
Bellamy's words are shortened with emphasis on each syllable.
"You're lying."
Her bottom lip quivers. "I don't belong to anyone but you."
"Yes, Bellamy. I heard you the first time."
A thin mist clouds her clear eyes. "You think I ditched you on Saturday to be with another man?"
"In my experience, Bellamy, and I have a world of it," I say, "the only reason a submissive would ever disobey her Dom is if she had another."
Her head shakes with a fervor, ruffling her blonde strands until they're splayed across her pale shoulders. Words reside behind her pinched lips, but I'm not finished speaking to her yet.