Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
I can see it, just a few doors down. The closet door where I was brought—where I was awakened.
My breath comes in short gasps as I sneak down the hall, trying to calm my rapid heartbeats.
Sin and curiosity has gripped me, and I can no longer fight it. I need another look at that…thing he had me tied to. That thing that wrung me out like a wet dish towel.
My hand trembles as I take the knob and twist. The hinges of the door squeak as I pull slowly, feeling my pulse beating heavy in my ears. And then, I see it…
A typhoon of emotions sweeps me up in its grasp, threatening to break me from the inside out. My eyes close as I remember last night—my wrists bound together, my ankles tied to the floor.
The hum between my thighs pulling me closer and closer—
“Next time, you won’t fight as much.” The sound of Amon’s voice snaps me back to reality. I yelp, slam the door shut, and whirl to face him.
He stands there like an immovable object, arms crossed casually across his massive chest, looking down at me with amusement and…something else. Something I can’t quite read.
“I…”
Before I can react, he turns, leaving me with a smirk that bores straight down into my bones.
I have to force myself not to call out to him. But my throat is tight, and my breath won’t come.
I race back to my room and lock myself in. Grasping my cross, I pray to God that he will grant me the strength to make the right choices. The strength to be good and do all the right things.
But deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that I will end up making a mistake. And that I will pay for it.
5
AMON
“Two hundred and twenty-five, baby!” Chuck cheers, popping a bottle of champagne beside me. Normally, I have a no-drink and no-girls rule for the office, but today, I’ve made an exception.
The rest of my best traders cheer, raising their glasses to be filled as Chuck does some terrible dance that I should fire him for.
I puff my cigar and watch the madness spill out into the conference room where a handful of exotic dancers shake their asses from the table.
Not the most professional atmosphere at work today, and I should stop it, but even the women who work for me are getting into it, tossing dollar bills like rappers in a music video.
I should be just as psyched. This trade is already being talked about by every other fund on the street. Anyone left who may have doubted me has been silenced.
For some reason, today’s win feels empty, lacking, superficial. I can’t stop myself from thinking about Joan.
What’s she doing right now? I left a list of things for her. Is she sweeping the upstairs? Cleaning the bathtub? Doing my laundry?
She took her punishment well. And last night, when I caught her staring into the closet, I saw that thing in her eyes—that unexplainable flicker of desire yet unrealized.
She’s still holding back, and I don’t know how long I can keep myself from claiming her.
“We’re the big boys now!” Chuck hollers, shifting his dance to something even more ridiculous.
He notices me still sitting at my desk and quickly starts whispering to one of the dancers.
Oh, God. Not this.
Leading her by the arm, he walks her right into my office like a personal gift. She’s pretty, and wearing black lace stockings, a G-string, and a lace bra that looks like it could fall off at any moment.
“Candy, meet Amon Bleakson,” Chuck smirks proudly. “He’s the head honcho here at Bleaks Capital.”
“Oh, is he?” Candy asks, stretching a leg over my desk. She leans in, battering me with the scent of cheap perfume. “You must be quite the guy.”
“Chuck?” I snap, leaning around her.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Get her out of here.”
Candy stiffens. She certainly wasn’t expecting that. She’s used to men fawning all over her—paying for her attention. But that’s not me. Especially not now.
“You sure?” she asks, but Chuck quickly hurries her from the room, stuffing some more ones in her G-string. He closes the door behind her and turns to me.
“The hell’s wrong with you?”
Chuck’s the only guy in the office I’d let talk to me this way. He’s been loyal since day one, but right now, even he can see my mind is elsewhere.
“Leave it alone,” I respond, my voice low.
“Since when are you one to turn down champagne and babes?” He smirks.
I turn away from him, my brain spinning back to the house, tugging at me like invisible chains. Like inevitability. I thought I’d crushed all romantic feelings inside me. They make you weak, soft. I haven’t touched any of the dancers, but just being in their presence has me feeling guilty.
“Ridiculous…” I mutter.
“What’s that, boss?”