Chapter 11

Day 6 of being unemployed.

I groaned. I had been scouring the internet since the day I was fired, but even when I applied for the most basic tech jobs, the rejection was almost instant — even with my degree.

How was this possible?

I saw a Teams message appear on my laptop and opened it. It was Steve.

Steve: Hey Sloane. Any luck finding a job? Side note — fuck the Bitch on Level 28.

I laughed. At least someone understood.

Sloane: Nope. Couldn’t even get a job doing printer maintenance. Wtf?

I watched as he sent an eyes emoji, then another message.

Steve: That’s why I was reaching out. I heard through the grapevine that the bitch had you blacklisted.

I groaned. Now I was pissed. I had been pissed before, but this was on another level.

Sloane: Are you fucking kidding me?!

I could see he was typing.

Steve: One sec — just in a dungeon. About to start a raid.

I stood and went to my kitchen counter, pouring myself a glass of cold water, willing myself to calm down. I chugged it greedily until it was empty. Then I took a few deep breaths and made my way back to my laptop to see that he had sent a new message.

Steve: Yup. And then, for once, they actually advertised a worthwhile tech job at BD Systems. I thought about applying, but this current IT gig is just too sweet. It’s a coding position. Basically, you spend all your time trying to hack into their systems, and you get paid to do it.

My jaw dropped. For once BD Systems had an interesting job advertised, and I had been fired. A job that actually sounded like something I might have applied for.

I sat on the edge of my couch, staring at the wall, my mind racing. Fuck, I hated that woman. That bitch.

My phone rang, and I answered it. “Hello, Dad.”

Could my day get any worse?

“Listen, Sloane,” he said. “I’ve been thinking. I want to start a business.”

“Another one, Dad?” I sighed. “Didn’t you just get out of prison?”

“See, that’s the thing,” he said with a chuckle. “I need some income, kiddo. To get back on my feet.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you want me to give you money? I’m broke.”

I heard him sigh on the other end. “Alright, alright. I’ll figure it out.”

“By ‘figure it out,’ I hope you aren’t talking about doing something illegal,” I said sternly.

“Of course not, Sloane,” he said flatly. “Talk soon.”

The call ended. I stared down at the phone. A trickle of guilt washed over me, but I pushed through. I couldn’t keep being responsible for my father’s messes.

It was the same every time. Bail him out — he goes back to jail. Lend him money — he never pays it back.

I turned back to my laptop and went to the BD Systems website. I tapped on a link for their current job postings. Then I saw it.

We are seeking an experienced, certified penetration tester to perform an authorized security assessment of our digital security systems. This is a fully legal, scoped engagement — all testing will be performed only with explicit written authorization, under a signed contract and NDA.

Applicants are asked to conduct a test run at the interview.

“Are you kidding me?” I hissed. This was the sort of job I had been hoping for. The type that was rarely posted. Something challenging, new, and interesting.

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands. I heard a Teams notification go off. It was Steve again.

Steve: Too bad you can’t apply. They’ve been personally reaching out to applicants for the past six months to find someone. They were interviewing the best of the best. But no one could get through the main wall. So they finally made a public job posting. Either the software is that fucking good, or they need someone like you.

I read his message. Then… it clicked.

I had an idea.

---

“Marigold Finchley?”

I looked up through the rims of my thick black glasses. “That’s me.”

That’s right. Today I was Marigold Finchley. I’d applied under a fake name, so what?

I wore massive, fuck-around glasses, and Georgie had helped me secure a wig that might have looked like real hair.

Maybe.

My plan was simple: I would go in under a fake alias and disguise, slay the interview, and they would have no choice but to hire me. They’d call me up to offer the position and I’d tell them the truth.

Or they might call the police. Honestly, it was a toss-up.

A woman approached, her smile bright. “You’re our last interviewee today. Please follow me.”

I recognized her. She was that hot guy’s assistant, the one I’d met at the printer. The pencil-skirt-wearing blonde who wanted to climb him like a tree. Was hot guy interviewing me?

I stood and smiled, following her as she shuffled down the hallway. She left behind a trail of floral perfume, her long blonde hair swishing from side to side as she walked.

We wove around a corner and came to an elevator. She typed in a code, and we entered. She held a clipboard in her hand and was skimming the information on it as the elevator moved up.

“What floor is it?” I asked.

She looked over at me. “The 50th. It’s the highest floor. You’ll love the view.” She went back to looking down at her paperwork.

The elevator dinged, and we stepped out. We stood in a short hallway with a door at the end. We walked toward it, stopping in front of it. There was a ring camera outside.

“Why is there a ring camera?” I whispered to the blonde.

She smiled. “For extra security.”

“Come in,” a voice said through the camera.

I watched her smooth her hair down and straighten her skirt before pulling the door open. I followed her inside. We were greeted by a massive open office space with a full kitchen and bar. There was no sharing a restroom in this place — it even came with its own.

It was sleek and modern: white tile with grey streaks, soft lighting, and bookcases lining some of the walls, jam-packed with novels and other texts.

And there he sat, in the middle of it all, his back to the skyline behind him, positioned in a black leather chair, elbows on the desk, hands folded, and his eyes…

Piercing right through me.

I felt my heart flutter slightly.

“Mr. Drake,” the blonde purred, walking toward him, her hips swaying intentionally. “Your last one is here, Marigold Finchley.”

He was still looking at me, and I swear I saw a smile tug at his lips. He said my name slowly: “Marigold Finchley. Sounds… very, very classic.”

“Nice to meet you,” I managed to say.

“I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Drake,” the blonde smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t forget, everyone is getting drinks after work.”

She stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge her obvious invitation. But instead, he shuffled papers on his desk. I saw her face drop before she turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

He gestured to the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

Adrian Drake. CEO and cofounder of BD Systems. A company that created and sold security software. Also known as super hot printer guy. In my own head of course.

I sat, trying to keep my hands from fidgeting. This man was far too good-looking to be real. His thick brown hair. His piercing green eyes. The way he casually kept the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

“So,” he began, leaning back slightly. “You’ve applied for the testing position.”

“Yes,” I said politely. “It sounded like a challenge.”

“Challenge,” he repeated. “I like that.”

I licked my lips and squished my thighs together. Something about this man was causing me to think of them. The men who…I shook away the thoughts.

His eyes flicked to the fake résumé on his desk. I had spent all night putting it together. “You’ve got quite a background here. Self-taught, then studied at college. You had a few startups.”

“That’s right,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “I’m a hands on learner.”

He smiled, as if he were amused. “That’s obvious.”

Something in the way he said it made my breathing quicken. I couldn’t tell if it was flattery or…something else.

He turned his computer monitor toward me. “Let’s just skip all the talk about your background and your reasons for being here. It’s a waste of time if you can’t do this. This is one of our sandbox tests. Your goal is simple: gain access to the hidden admin panel without alerting the security software.”

I nodded, my pulse picking up. “Any time limits?”

He smiled. “We stopped doing time limits a long time ago when we thought it might be too hard to break into.”

I reached for the keyboard, sliding the chair closer. “Can you time me?”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Sure, if you want.”

I nodded and turned to the screen. The interface was organized but there were obvious traps. Traps disguised as fake directories and portals, misleading information meant to trip up anyone reckless enough to fall into them. It was almost…playful.

I started probing, scanning, testing weak points, looking for something out of place in the code. He sat in silence, simply watching me, his phone in his hand as he timed me.

After a few minutes, I sighed, “You built this yourself, didn’t you?”

He raised a brow. “What makes you think that?”

“The code structure,” I said, eyes latched onto the screen. “It’s far too… personal. Someone’s signature code”

His smiled but said nothing.

Then, I found it. “There you are,” I whispered, opening a terminal window and typing a quick string of code. I held my breath and waited. Then, like magic, the admin dashboard appeared on my screen.

“Done,” I said, pushing the keyboard back towards him.

His expression flickered back and forth between myself and the screen. “Very impressive, Ms. Finchley.” He looked down at his phone screen, “Three minutes and twelve seconds.”

“Thanks.” I said, repositioning myself back into my chair.

He stood, circling behind me. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

I swallowed hard. “I hope it was a good interview.”

“Oh,” he said, opening the door for me. “It was unforgettable.”

Chapter 12

I sat there, stabbing my katsu chicken with my fork. My dad sat across from me, stuffing a sushi roll — that I had bought for him — into his mouth.

He spoke between bites. “They had me in there for ten hours. Tried everything they had. Don’t they have murderers to worry about? I robbed a fucking 7-Eleven. I made it out with two hundred bucks and a bag of Cheeto Puffs.”

I sighed and looked over at him. “Dad, that’s not something most people would brag about.”

“Who’s bragging? I’m complaining because those bastards always waste my time.” He shrugged, dunked a piece of sushi into soy sauce, and stuffed it into his mouth.

I squashed more sticky rice under my fork. “It’s never your fault.”

He grunted. “I didn’t ask for this life, kid.”

“You did — and you still do.” My voice felt small, but I continued. “Every time you call me, it’s the same shit. You’re in jail. You want money. A place to stay.”

He set his food down. For a moment, he just looked at me. “You think I like asking or something? Fathers are meant to take care of their children, not the other way around.”

“Do you think I feel sorry for you?” I laughed and rolled my eyes.

He leaned back and sighed, then looked down at his empty plate.

“You don’t have to be cruel,” he mumbled.

My dad was good at making you feel guilt — at playing the victim.

I didn’t answer. I just sat there, letting the silence fall heavy between us.

He gave a brittle laugh and sighed again. “Fine. Just forget it. I’ll figure it out.”

He pushed his chair back hard enough to make people turn and look. Then he left. Just like that. Not even a goodbye.

But I had already done it — before we had even arrived. I’d sent him the money he’d asked for.

Why? I don’t know why. I just did.

Later that afternoon, I was in my pajamas early.

My phone rang, and I looked down — an unknown number. I clicked the button on the side to reject it. I didn’t feel like talking.

I turned back to the TV, and the phone rang again. I groaned and answered.

“I already rejected this call, why are—”

“Miss Finchley,” a voice said. Smooth and deep. Mr. Drake.

“Uh — I…” I stuttered, sitting upright. Oh shit.

“You sound busy,” he said.

My heart fluttered. “No, no. Sorry. I thought you were a telemarketer.”

He laughed — deep and rough. “Fair enough. You’ll want to save my number, though.”

“Why’s that?” I said, trying to sound cool and composed.

“We’re offering you the position,” he said.

My jaw dropped. “You are?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’ll send the contract now. Of course, if you’re still interested.”

“Yes!” I yelled, springing to my feet. “I mean, sorry. I just — yes. Yes, I accept.”

He laughed again. “Great. I’ll send through the details. I’ll see you at 7 a.m. sharp on Monday.”

“No problem,” I said, almost slapping myself in the face just to make sure it was real.

“Oh, and Miss Finchley?” he said slowly. “Be sure to bring your identification and other documents for HR.”

My stomach flipped. Should I tell him now? Or on Monday morning? Monday morning sounded good.

“No problem,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

“And another thing, Miss Finchley,” he said — his voice sounded deeper.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I do not accept tardiness.” Then I heard the call end.

I exhaled slowly.

Now it was time to tell the truth.

But I would do it face-to-face. On Monday morning.

---

Monday, 7:00 a.m. sharp (No Tardiness)

I stepped into BD Systems. I had the wig and the black glasses on. My heart was racing so fast I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ears.

The lobby smelled faintly of disinfectant and burnt coffee. I made my way into the elevator and stopped at the 28th floor. I stepped out. In the front foyer, a tall blonde woman was wearing yet another pencil skirt that looked like it had been stitched to her.

She flashed me a bright, professional smile. “Marigold! I’ll sort out your induction in a bit, but first, HR will need to see your ID and all that good stuff. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but my name’s Delilah.”

“Right,” I said, wringing my hands together nervously. “Actually, before that — could I see Mr. Drake? Just for a sec.”

Her eyes flicked up, confused by my request. “You want to see the boss? Before HR?”

“Yes. It’s kind of urgent,” I said, tapping my foot against the tiled floor.

She looked like she wanted to say no, but instead picked up her cell phone, nails clicking against the screen. “Mr. Drake? Marigold Finchley is here. She says she needs to see you.”

A pause. Then a look of surprise. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

She hung up and cocked an eyebrow at me. “He says you can go in. He also said to just give you a keycard to go up. But you’ll need to return it, of course.”

I nodded and smiled as she made her way to the reception desk and dug inside a drawer. She pulled out a black card with BD Systems engraved along the top in gold letters. She handed it to me and tilted her head, suspicious.

“What’s this about?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ah, yes. She obviously had a crush on the guy. I decided to help her feel a bit better.

“I just wanted to talk about a few items on the contract before I sign,” I said, smiling my brightest smile.

I watched her body visibly relax. “Oh, of course.” She laughed, and I could tell she was feeling relieved.

I made my way to the elevator and hit the button for the highest floor after tapping my keycard on the control panel. I walked out and headed toward his office before tapping the button on the ring camera outside of it.

“Come in,” I heard him call from the other side.

I pushed the door open. When I stepped into his office, Mr. Drake looked up from his computer, his expression blank. “Marigold Finchley,” he said.

I took a deep breath. Fuck it. I was just going to jump right in.

“Actually, that’s… not my real name.”

His expression remained blank. He simply stared back at me, as if I hadn’t just said something insane.

“My name’s Sloane Heathrow. I used to work here. I was in the basement — er, the lowest floor. I did IT support. You probably don’t remember me, but you once saw me on the 28th floor by the printer. I was fired a week ago.”

I could feel my palms sweating, and I was dizzy. The floor felt like it had fallen out from under me. “I lied about my name because I wanted the job. I thought if maybe I did well at the trial run, that—”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. “It’s fine.”

I blinked. “It’s… fine?”

He gave a small smile. “People make mistakes.”

I just stared at him.

“I’ll call HR and have them update your name in the system,” he said, now turning back to look at his monitor.

For a second, all I could do was stand there, waiting for the punchline. But it never came.

“Thank you…?” I managed finally. My voice didn’t sound like mine.

“Welcome back,” he said, not even looking up as I stepped backward and turned, leaving his office behind.

---

HR smelled like toner and too much air freshener. I’d tossed my wig and glasses into the nearest trash can after leaving Mr. Drake’s office.

The same woman who’d emailed me my termination notice glanced up when I walked in, her face full of confusion.

Sally Shrevan, HR Manager.

“Sloane? Did you come to ask about your final paycheck?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” I said — and I couldn’t help but grin, because fuck her. “I’m here to sign my new contract. Mr. Drake said he sent confirmation.”

She frowned and turned to her screen, clicking her mouse a few times. A few moments later, her eyes went wide.

“Well,” she muttered. “He did.”

She was reading it to herself out loud. “Promotion? Security Assessment Consultant?”

“I sent you an email to say you were let go,” she said flatly. “But apparently, this is a promotion.”

I smiled, trying not to let it turn into a laugh. “Guess so.”

She stared at me blankly for a while, then sighed and slid a stack of papers across the desk. “Sign here.”

Author’s Note:

Loving the story so far? Drop a comment and let me know!

Chapter 13

“A what?” I asked, gasping.

“A company car,” Delilah said with a smile. “It was in your contract.”

At this point, I needed to admit that I had a serious problem with reading contracts. She held up a pair of glossy silver keys, and I took them, running my finger over the curves.

“And…” she said, reaching for an envelope attached to her clipboard, “this is a company card.”

She handed it to me, and I read the gold lettering engraved into the matte black metal. A metal card?

American Express Platinum.

“This is platinum,” I breathed.

“I was surprised too,” she said. ” To be honest.” She was narrowing her eyes at me. “But Mr. Drake said you can use it for travel — fuel, hotels, whatever — and to pay for any lunches or dinners you might need to host.”

“Hosting dinners?” I asked. There was no way that was something I needed to do in my position.

She shrugged. “He said just in case.”

She stepped closer to me and tilted her head. “He also said your name is Sloane Heathrow. You’re from IT. Why lie about your name?”

I laughed. “I changed my name after I stopped working here. It hasn’t been officially changed yet, so I needed my paperwork to be signed with my old name until my new identification comes through.”

I lied so fast I even impressed myself.

She still looked confused. “Your first and last name changed?”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell a soul.”

She stepped closer, curiosity bright in her eyes.

“I was on the run. A whistleblower for the government. Top-secret stuff,” I said, glancing around.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“I’ve already told you too much,” I said, leaning back. “But please, call me Sloane. Everyone here already knows me by that name anyway.”

Delilah nodded and smiled. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll show you to your office now.”

Idiot…

I followed her to the elevator, and we stepped inside. Instinctively, I tapped the button for the 20th floor. That’s where most of the tech staff worked — unless you were IT support. Then, of course, you were with Steve in the basement.

But Delilah’s manicured hand darted out and pressed thirty.

“Thirty?” I asked, my brow scrunching together. “What’s on level 30?”

She smiled without looking at me, the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Mr. Drake wants you close to the senior executive floors. He said there are fewer distractions.”

“I thought the executives were on level 28.” I frowned, still confused.

“Sure they are,” she said smoothly. “But level thirty is where the senior executives work.”

I blinked and shook my head. What the hell? I was supposed to be shoved into a cubicle — maybe a small office — not working on an executive-level floor.

The elevator climbed high. When the doors slid open, the change in atmosphere was immediate. It was cooler, quieter. I didn’t smell cheap coffee or toner or see rows of cubicles. The carpet was thicker, the lighting softer, the framed art on the walls expensive.

We passed glass offices with frosted names I recognized from company memos — names of people who emailed the entire staff with important updates. Many of my new coworkers ignored me as I walked past, but some cast curious looks in my direction.

“This is you,” Delilah said, stopping in front of a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows. She swung the door open, and I gasped.

“This?” I asked, half-laughing. “You’re kidding.”

She wasn’t.

The office door had my name — Sloane Heathrow — engraved on a golden plaque. Inside, I saw a minimalist desk, two monitors, and a plant that stretched nearly to the ceiling. There was even a coffee machine — the kind with about twenty different levers and buttons.

Delilah lingered in the doorway, still smiling that polite smile. “You’re all set.”

I turned toward the window, the city gleaming below me. The people looked like little ants.

“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll get started.”

Delilah laughed lightly — a sound I didn’t believe for a second — then left, her perfume hanging in the air.

I walked over to the window and peered down. “Holy shit. How did I end up here?”

I turned to my desk. It was white and sleek, paired with a black leather chair. I sank into it, letting out a deep sigh. Even the damn chair was luxurious.

I noticed a small folded bit of paper on my desk.

I reached out and opened it.

Miss Heathrow,

I hope you like your new office.

Given that you are now on a senior executive-level floor, I ask that you adhere to a strict dress code, although you may not be an executive.

Delilah will send you a copy of the dress code requirements for this level.

Please use the platinum card given to you to purchase what you need.

— Mr. Drake

I sat there, staring at the paper. What in the actual hell?

But you wouldn’t hear me complaining. I grabbed my cell phone and snapped a few photos of the office before texting them to Georgie. It only took a few moments before she was blowing up my phone.

Are you serious? QUEEN!

She sent a series of emojis — wide eyes, fire, and a money bag. I laughed and reached out to turn on my computer.

I opened my email and whistled. Fifty-five new emails on day one. And this time, it wasn’t people asking me to order toner or wondering if they needed to be connected to the internet to send an email.

I dove right in. Mr. Drake had already sent a few tasks to action. The hours flew by. I forgot about lunch or taking a break. I just typed, clicked, and sent more emails than ever before.

I was in the middle of gathering more intelligence — after sending an email to inquire about target systems and networks — when my phone buzzed.

I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to keep going. But I knew.

It might be one of them…

I tapped the notification and smiled. It was a text.

Sloane,

Dr. Creed would like you to pay a visit this evening.

Same time, but different place.

A car will collect you again.

Clothing will be delivered to your place of work.

— The Curator

How the hell did they know where I worked?

I shrugged. They had known my name, email, and cell phone number without me giving it as well. As dangerous as that might make most people feel — I loved it.

I felt my core tighten and my stomach flutter. I shook my head, willing myself to stop imagining the things he would do to me.

The sun set, and I was still working. I needed to prepare for my visit to Dr. Creed, so I finally saved my documents and shut down my computer.

The clothing had been delivered, so I locked my office door and slipped it on. It was a dark blue, short, sleeveless dress with a matching blue G-string, paired with black strappy heels. I was instructed to put my hair up, so I did — a tidy bun at the nape of my neck. No jewelry this time.

I made my way down the elevator and outside the building. Per usual, a sleek car was waiting for me. I sat in the back after the driver opened the door.

We didn’t travel for very long before we arrived in front of a row of townhouses. Nora was standing on the sidewalk, and we pulled up beside her. I went to open the door, but the driver spoke.

“You’re not getting out yet. I’ll put the window down.”

I was confused but waited as he rolled the window down. Nora stepped forward and handed me a blindfold.

“You need to put this on. You’re going to be let in through the garage.”

I understood. If I was blindfolded at his door, I would know which townhouse was his. So instead, they were blindfolding me in the car, and bringing me in through the garage.

I took the blindfold and placed it on. I heard the window go back up and felt the car roll forward. The sound of a garage door opening echoed before we came to a stop.

I heard my car door open and a voice speak, “Sloane.”

My pussy throbbed and I felt my panties grow wet, “Dr.Creed.”

I felt his large hands on my waist, pulling me out of the car. He pulled me against his chest. He felt warm, familiar. He also smelled incredible. Like fresh linen and oak.

I heard the car door shut before the car rolled away and the garage door closed behind it.

“Mmm…” he moaned, his hands reaching behind me to grip my ass. “I missed this plump ass.” He squeezed each cheek and I almost fell to the floor.

“Come,” he whispered into my ear and he tugged on me. I heard a few doors open and shut as my heels clicked against what might have been wooden floors. Then I felt something plush. A couch.

I heard him unzipping his pants. I heard them fall to the floor.

“My week was terrible Sloane,” he said with a sigh. “I want you to make me feel better.”

I nodded, “Yes sir.”

I heard the couch shift as he sat next to me, “Stand up baby. Face me.”

I did as I was told. I felt his hands reach for the end of my dress, pulling it upwards. His fingers found my G-String, “Did you have fun with The Curator the other night?” He was slipping his fingers into the front, his fingers moving towards my vagina.

“I did,” I sighed as two fingers slipped inside.

“But not as much fun as you will have with me,” he said, low and slow. His fingers were now pushing inside of me, while one hand was clutching my bare ass. “I will fuck you better Sloane.”

And for some reason, unknown to me, I said it.

“Prove it Dr. Creed.”

Chapter 14

He went silent for a moment, his finger movements slowing-but not stopping. He slid them out and reached for my clitoris, his fingers circling slowly.

“Sloane, how do you propose that I prove it?” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

I gasped as his movements increased, but I managed to utter a few words, “He tied my wrists.”

He chuckled, “I know. He was just letting you get a taste.”

“A taste of what?” I breathed, his fingers were now back inside of me. Teasing me. Taunting me.

“Of what’s to come.” he said. “And tonight-I will do the same.”

He pulled his fingers away and I whimpered, desperate for him to continue. I heard movement. He was now standing in front of me. I reached out and my hands found his bare chest. Smooth skin. Lean muscles.

He wasn’t as broad as The Curator, but he was still sexy as hell.

I felt his mouth next to my ear, “Maybe tonight, I’ll see how far I can push you Sloan.”

Then I felt it, a stinging sensation. He had twisted my nipple. Not lightly either-hard. Aggressive. I cried out in surprise.

“Do you like that Sloane?” he said. He did it again and I cried out once more.

“Yes,” I sighed.

He did it again and I moaned. “Answer me the correct way Sloane. You should know by now.”

“Yes, sir.” I breathed.

Then he tugged on me and my back soon fell against a soft mattress. My hands reached down. Cool silk sheets.

Then I heard him rummaging through something. A closet maybe. Then he returned to stand near me.

“What is that?” I said as I heard a sound. It was similar to the sound of a belt tightening.

“A bondage restraint,” he said coolly. “Turn over.”

A bondage restraint?

I didn’t know what the hell was going on. All I knew, was I wanted it to happen. I rolled over and pressed my cheek against the bed sheet.

I felt one hand tug on my ankle and one hand tug on my wrist. Then, I felt the bondage being secured over my ankle and wrist. Then I heard something snap into place. Like a metal buckle.

I pulled on my wrist and ankle, but the fabric tugged roughly on my skin. They had been tied together.

Then I felt him take my other ankle and wrist and tie them together. So now I was lying face down on the bed, my arms tied behind me, attached to my ankles.

“Why?” I said. But there was something about it. Something about the fact that I knew, there was no way to stop him from doing what he wanted to me.

“To test your limits, but just a little.” he said, his hands moved to the bottom of my dress and he pushed it up, revealing my bare ass.

And just like that, I wanted it. Now. Badly. Instantly.

“Put it in!” I yelled. “Please!”

He laughed lightly and I felt him rummaging around again. Then I heard his footsteps as he returned.

“You are going to need to learn how to control that.” I heard a swishing noise. Like something being swung through the air. “You need to learn that I decide what happens to you.”

I heard the swishing noise again and then…pain.

A whip.

I cried out, pulling on the restraints.

“Much better.” He murmured. Then his hands were on my ass again, massaging the spot he had just whipped. Then he inserted two fingers into my vagina as he let out a low growl. “You’re so wet baby. Wet for me.”

My breathing came in short sharp bursts, my core tightening around his fingers as he continued to finger me. He moved them out of me.

“I want you now.” he said, rough and low. I felt his fingers tug on my G-string, slipping it to the side. My body was trembling, desperate for his cock.

I felt him slide into me. And God it felt incredible. He moved slow, pushing his hips towards me. In and out. I moaned and he increased his speed. He began pumping into me, my face rubbing against the silk sheets, my mouth falling open. His fingers were holding tightly to my lower legs.

I felt it again. The sting from the whip as it slapped my skin. The pleasure and the pain. I almost couldn’t tell it apart.

“Do you like this Sloane?” he moaned.

I felt my moisture coating his cock, the sound of our skin slapping into one another filled the air.

“Yes sir,” I croaked. My pussy was throbbing and I knew I was going to orgasm soon.

He started thrusting so hard inside of me, that I thought he might break me. But I loved it. Every second of it.

Then I tightened around him, exploding all over his massive dick. The pleasure hit me like a tidal wave. He kept pumping into me until I finished, a sloshing sound could be heard as my moisture poured from me.

Then he stopped and pulled out of me. “Good girl.” he murmured.

I was still gasping when he untied me. I felt his hands rubbing my wrists, “You handled it well.” I felt him turn me so that I was facing him. I sat up on the edge of the bed.

He reached for my hand and placed it on his cock. It was warm and heavy. His erection was at full peak. I began rubbing it and I heard him moan.

“Dr. Creed?” I said slowly.

“Yes?” he said, now taking a fist full of my hair.

“I want to suck your cock.” I said, cautiously. I was testing the waters.

“Sloane,” he said, in between groans as I continued to stroke his dick. “You know it’s against the rules. I want you to suck it so bad baby, but I can’t.”

A smiled tugged at my lips, “I thought you were in control. I guess not.”

I felt him stiffen and freeze. Then his grip tightened on my hair and he pushed my head downward. I held firmly to his dick until my lips found it.

It slid into my mouth. It was a surprising feeling. Something new. I hadn’t expected it to fit, but it did. It was salty and still wet from when he had fucked me.

I moved slowly and unsurely. He pushed against the back of my head and then tugged gently on my hair, guiding my movements.

“Like that Sloane,” he groaned. “Just like that. Good girl.”

I pushed forward until his cock hit the back of my throat and I gagged. He laughed when I choked but continued to push the back of my head.

“Fuck,” his breathing was now shallow. “Suck my dick just like that you good little slut.”

He moaned as we continued, my head bobbing up and down the length of his erection. I moaned as I felt him pulsate.

Would I swallow it?

“You will swallow my cum.” I heard him groan.

I guess he had already decided.

Then he exploded inside my mouth. Salty liquid. I began swallowing, as fast as I could.

“Fuck,” he sighed with pleasure.

But when he pulled away, cum still trickled from the side of my mouth. He released his hold on my hair and I heard him laugh again.

“You’ll get better at it,” He replied. I felt him reach out and wipe the corner of my mouth.

Then I felt him kneel in front of me, gripping the tops of my thighs.

“If you tell the others about what we did Sloane,” he squeezed tightly, sending a shiver of desire through my body. “The contract will become void. Do you understand?”

I nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“There are clean clothes next to you,” he said. “Put them on. Nora will knock on the door soon and you can leave.”

I felt him stand and then his hand was on my shoulder, “I got you a present Sloane. I hope you like it. Nora will give it to you.”

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“Every time you sit down, you’ll feel it,” I heard him say, his voice far too sexy to be real. “And you’ll remember that your pussy belonged to me tonight Sloane.”

I heard him walk away. Then a door was pulled shut.

I did as I was told and put on the clothing. I heard Nora knock and enter. She guided me to the car and I heard her sit next to me. We drove off. After a few moments, she spoke.

“You can take off the blindfold now.”

I did. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the city lights that were shining through the car window as we drove.

“Here” she said stiffly. “A gift.”

She held a small black box. I took it from her and opened it. A small black bag sat inside. A clutch with a gold strap and buckle. I ran my fingers along it, the leather was smooth and shiny.

I squinted at the logo, trying to remember what brand it was. I had never purchased a brand name purse before.

“Louis Vuitton.” Nora said.

I blinked, “Why would he get me this?”

“Look inside,” she said blankly.

I opened it and gasped. A pile of cash was inside, neatly wrapped with a gold ribbon tied around it.

“What?” I said in disbelief.

“Don’t get too excited,” Nora snorted. “It’s only a couple of grand.”

Chapter 15

“Sorry for taking so long to sort out the company car. It’s been a hell of a week,” Delilah sighed. “Do you still have the keys I gave you?”

I nodded, holding them up for her to see.

“Great.” She peered down at her clipboard. “It just needed to be cleaned and detailed. It looks like it was parked in the garage on Level J, toward the back.”

“Great,” I said. “I’ll go find it now. I was about to head home anyway.”

The sun had set ages ago, and the clock had just struck 8:30 p.m. I was exhausted.

“Having an early one, are you?” she asked, tilting her head at me.

I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“Mmm…” she said. “No. There are still plenty of people here.”

I was starting to think that Delilah didn’t like me.

“Well, good for them,” I smiled politely, standing up to close my laptop and slide it into my bag. “Thanks for sorting out the car thing.”

But she didn’t say goodbye. Instead, she stepped closer. I slung my backpack onto my shoulders and looked at her. “Yes?”

“Why did you get a platinum card, an office on this floor, and an Audi?” she said, her eyes narrow and suspicious.

“An Audi?” My jaw dropped.

She rolled her eyes. “The logo is on the key fob.”

I looked down at the keys and cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know a thing about cars. I didn’t even give it a second look.”

“You didn’t answer me, Sloane,” she said, her voice now low — more serious than I had ever heard before. “Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Delilah.”

She laughed — but not in a warm or friendly way. More like a yeah, fucking right sort of way. Her hands moved to her hips as she continued, “You’re not even on the pay scale or level of the others on this floor.”

“Maybe this was the only level with space for me,” I said, throwing my hands up in defense. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

A knock sounded at my door. We both jumped. Delilah’s disposition immediately changed — she went from looking like a cold-hearted psycho to a sweet, well-mannered professional instantly.

Her hands smoothed out her hair as I called out, “Come in.”

And in he walked. No, it wasn’t Mr. Drake. It was someone else entirely. He was tall and lean — yet muscular and fit. His skin had a warm tan, the kind you get from hiking shirtless under the sun. You know, doing manly, outdoorsy stuff.

He had jet-black hair framing a pair of warm brown eyes. His hair looked like he had just woken up, but somehow he didn’t look sloppy. It seemed intentional — paired well with his well-fitted tan shirt and dark jeans.

I thought Delilah might faint and plummet to the floor. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

“Mr. Hart,” she breathed. “What can I do for you?”

His eyes flicked to her only briefly before he turned to look… right at me.

“I was actually here to see you, Miss Heathrow,” he said flatly.

Delilah looked like someone had slapped her. She turned to face me so he couldn’t see her expression. Her face was stormy and grey, eyes ablaze.

Oh, she was mad-mad. Like really mad.

“Me?” I almost squeaked. I looked around, as if he could possibly be talking about anyone else.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You are Miss Heathrow, correct?”

I nodded, my words escaping me.

“The same Miss Heathrow who solved the sandbox program in three minutes and twelve seconds?” he said, stepping closer.

My heart slammed against my chest, but I managed one single word. “Yup.”

He smiled — brightly. In fact, he grinned. It was a charming smile. The sort of smile you saw in a Colgate ad.

“Then you are the one I’m looking for.” He walked forward, making his way toward my desk before slinging himself into the chair on the other side. He sat there like he owned the office, casually leaning back, shoulders relaxed, a smile still on his face.

His eyes drifted to the bag on my shoulders. “Unless you were leaving?”

“I–I…” I stuttered.

“She was,” Delilah smiled, like she’d won some imaginary competition.

He seemed to stiffen for a moment, then turned slowly, his smile disappearing. His eyes were on hers. “Do you mind?”

Her jaw dropped, but no sound came out. She seemed to freeze before finally managing to nod. “Yes. Of course. Have a lovely evening.”

She made her way to my office door, shooting me a dirty glare before closing it behind her. I took my bag off my back and sat down, facing him.

“Sloane Heathrow,” he said, his smile reappearing. “We haven’t met before, but my name is Luca Hernandez. I’m one of the CEOs and co-founders of BD.”

“Right,” I said, my fingers tugging on the end of my shirt nervously.

“I heard about what you did with the sandbox simulation,” he whistled. “You were the first to crack it — and you did it in minutes.”

I nodded, biting my lip and trying not to drool at the sight of his firm arm muscles. Why? Just why? It shouldn’t be legal to go out in public looking like this man did. How was a woman meant to control herself?

He leaned forward and smirked. “I coded that.”

“You did?” I said. “It was pretty impressive.”

He was still leaning forward. “How did you solve my mystery, Sloane? I wrote that code.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I found your pattern. Your style.”

He leaned back and lifted his brows. “I was impressed. You’re the first, Sloane. The first to hack into any of our software.”

I shook my head. “That’s impossible. BD Systems is known for having the best hackers. And their codes are uncrackable-I thought the one in my interview was just a simulation, not one of your real programs. ”

Mr. Hernandez grinned. “It was a real program, not just a simulation. That’s why we hired you. You, Sloane, are the key to making sure we maintain that reputation. You’re invaluable.”

I laughed. “This is a joke.”

He shook his head. “It’s true.”

“It wasn’t hard, though,” I said. I didn’t know why I blurted it out — it was incredibly fucking rude. But somehow, it stumbled from my lips.

Idiot.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem angry. Instead, he laughed — deep yet soft. Magical. Warm.

“Exactly,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We needed someone like you. I just wanted to meet you in person.”

I sighed internally, relieved that I hadn’t angered him. He stood to his feet, his movements lazy — lazy in that casual, cool-guy sort of way. The kind of man who moved slowly through life, unaffected by the world moving around him.

Not like Mr. Drake. Mr. Drake moved like a commander, like someone who dominated the very air around him.

Why the hell was I comparing them? What was wrong with me?

“You cracked right through my code,” he said, his smile fading as he pushed his chair back into place. His eyes seemed darker for a moment as he looked at me. “Like you were familiar with the way I work.”

Something about his words made me dizzy. Made my skin tingle. He flashed a million-dollar smile at me before turning and walking toward the door.

“See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be working very closely together.”

And with that, he shut the door, leaving me sitting there. My panties were wet. Goosebumps littered my skin. My thoughts were buzzing.

What the fuck?

---

“So?” Georgie said, her paintbrush skimming along the surface of the canvas in front of her. “How’s the new job?” We were sitting in her living room.

“Oh, goddammit!” she screamed before I could even respond. Her eyes were on her TV screen. She was watching two singers on The Voice battle while singing a country song. “She’s not going through with that bullshit! Hit the high note!”

She groaned, then turned to me. “Sorry. Continue.”

I laughed. Georgie loved few things in life: animals, painting, and The Voice. She worked as an artist, making pennies painting murals and windows. Sometimes she was commissioned to paint canvas art as well.

“Fine,” I said. “The perks are nice. A company car, my own office.”

She turned and whistled. “Damn, that’s a big step up, Sloane. How’s the pay?”

I smiled. “Double what I made in IT, not that I made much.”

“Hey,” she said. “It’s still better than before.”

“What about you?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “I haven’t been getting much work lately. Everyone uses ChatGPT to create art these days. No one wants to pay for handcrafted stuff anymore.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that. I can help with money if you need it, though.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me, Sloane.”

I smiled and stood to my feet. “I do need to go.”

She blew me a kiss. “Bye, Sloane.”

I waved and started walking toward the door. I turned back to see her eyes glued to the TV screen. I quickly slipped my hand into the black clutch that Dr. Creed had given me. I pulled out the cash he had placed inside and quietly set it on her kitchen counter.

Then, I left without looking back.

I felt my phone buzz and pulled it from my pocket. It was a text:

Sloane,

Tomorrow night.

8:00 p.m. sharp.

A car will pick you up.

Vale wants to see you.

— The Curator

Chapter 16

My dad’s old Corolla was idling in front of the street where my apartment was. He’d called and asked me if I wanted to get dinner. At 10 pm, after my late night in the office, where I had met Luca Hernandez.

For some reason, I said yes.

I opened the heavy, rusty door and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” I said, the engine sputtering a few times. “I thought this thing was in a scrapyard.”

He laughed and smacked his hand against the dashboard. “Ol’ Susan? No, she’s a loyal woman.”

“Right,” I nodded, scanning his clothing. He wore a loose-fitting, worn flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing a mix of masterful, prison-quality tattoos. “So, where to?”

“There’s an Asian joint a few streets down,” he grinned. “Great takeaway, so I thought we’d pop in.”

I squinted at him. Something was off. He shifted the car into gear and we sped off — far too quickly than was necessary. My eyes darted over to him. I leaned forward slightly and inhaled.

Vodka and Budlight.

“Are you drunk?” I hissed.

He laughed. “I had a few. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re fucking drunk!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. The Corolla took the corner far too fast. The tires screamed — a high, ugly sound. All I could see were his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel and then the blur of a stop sign, fast approaching.

Susan’s front end bit the curb as he turned. The car hopped and smacked into a low brick wall by the sidewalk. I was propelled slightly forward because, of course, my seatbelt was a piece of shit — far too loose to protect anyone. My knees slammed into the dashboard, pain radiating through my legs as I screamed.

We sat there as Susan sputtered and moaned before she died. My vision was spotty and my breathing ragged. Several moments of silence passed before my dad spoke.

“Jesus,” he muttered before hiccupping a few times. He unclipped his seatbelt and turned toward me. “You okay?”

“Do you know what you were doing?” I said, rage swelling inside. I groaned as I pushed the passenger door open. I swung my legs over the side of the seat. I tried to stand and nearly fell back.

He laughed a slurred laugh. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Just—” His hand patted my shoulder.

I hissed when I looked down at my knees. They were red and swollen, having slammed into the dashboard hard enough to break the skin and cause bleeding. That was going to leave a mark.

I sighed and finally stood, exiting the vehicle. I stepped away from the car, already pulling out my phone to call an Uber. I could hear my dad yelling my name from behind me, but I didn’t give a shit.

Fuck him.

---

It was the next day and here I was again.

But this time… with Vale.

I was perched on the edge of a bed after being collected from my apartment. This time, I was driven to a tree-shaded avenue lined with mini-mansions. The houses were older, easily from the early 20th century.

Tall arched windows, round turrets, and stone facades softened by ivy. It looked like old money — like the type of homes you see in those Christmas movies from the ’90s.

I’d been blindfolded in the car at the end of the street and dropped off inside the garage. Vale had greeted me with a simple, single word.

“Come.”

Then he had tugged on my arm and led me to a room where I was now perched on the end of his bed. He had asked me to wear a long black sundress and no underwear. My hair had been left down, and my face left bare. No jewelry.

There was something comforting about sitting here in the darkness, inhaling his scent. Woody. Musky.

“Get undressed. Turn over, onto your stomach Sloane.”

I nodded and undressed. Then I turned and laid down on my stomach. I loved it. Being naked and exposed to him.

“On your knees.” He ordered. I did as I was told, moving to perch on my knees in doggystyle. But I winced, a hiss falling from my mouth as pain stung at my knees.

“Stop,” he said, his voice hard and commanding. “Turn back over.”

I did what he said, sitting back onto the edge of the bed. I felt his hands pull on my sundress, revealing my knees. I knew what he could see. The injury had grown to a deep red with speckles of purple.

“What is this?” he said, his rough hands grazing the tops of my knees. Even though it stung, I still felt my core tighten and my pussy throb with desire.

“Nothing, just a fall down the stairs,” I said so quickly, that I shocked myself at how fast I had lied.

“Not true,” he murmured, still lightly rubbing my knees. “What is this?”

I sighed, “A car accident.”

His hands stopped moving, “When?”

“Yesterday,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Who was driving?” he asked.

“My dad,” I said flatly. “He had a bit too much to drink.” I laughed, as if it were funny that my shithead dad had been driving drunk with me in the car.

He didn’t say anything else, he just let go of me and said, “Get on your back.”

So I did, lying back. Waiting.

I heard his footsteps growing closer to me. I felt his hands on my ankles and then…clink. Cold metal pressed tightly against my skin. There was something about. Something that made me so wet, I thought I might orgasm before we even started.

“Raise your legs up,” I heard him say, his hands guiding them upward until they were positioned horizontally, my toes stretching towards the ceiling. Then I felt it. The sharp twist of my nipple.

“Good girl,” he said roughly. Then his tongue found my nipple and he flicked his tongue across the bite mark. “Such incredible tits.”

I moaned, the pain shooting through, blending with the pleasure. God, I just wanted him inside of me now. I wanted to lose all control.

“What is this?” I breathed.

“A spreader bar,” he grunted. Then, he reached for my wrists and pulled them forward. I heard it again. Clink. My wrists were now attached to the bar he had latched onto my ankles.

“Perfect,” he grunted again. “A perfect pussy on display.”

And he was right. It was on display, as I laid there, ankles and wrists bound together, legs straight up in the air. There was nothing I could do to stop him from looking at me in this position.

I felt vulnerable.

But God it was hot.

“Your pussy is already wet,” he said flatly. I felt his thumb run through my slick petals. “You want me to fuck you.” His fi slid upwards, teasing my clit.

“Yes, fuck me!” I pleaded, desperate for him to enter me.

I felt a sharp sting. It slapped against my thigh. I gasped from both shock and pain.

“Since when are you in charge you little slut?” he said. “I control you Sloane. I decide when your pussy gets fucked.”

I felt it again, the sharp sting. I was dripping now, moisture pouring from my opening. It was something thin. Maybe rubber.

“Yes sir,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Better,” he said and then I felt his hands on my thighs. He was positioned in front of my raised legs. I felt the tip of his dick slide into my vagina.

I moaned but I didn’t say a word.

“I’m going to fuck you like an animal Sloane,” he said, speaking so low that his voice was almost a whisper.

Then I felt his massive cock slide into me. I let out a gasp from the pleasure. And just like that, the fucking began. And when he said he was going to fuck me like an animal, he was telling the truth.

He pounded into me, his grip on my thighs tight. Painful. He groaned as he pumped into me, his thick dick filling me up, stretching me in the best way possible.

God, it was so big.

I could hear a sloshing sound as he continued. My pussy soaking, Coating his dick with my wetness. He fucked harder and deeper than The Curator or Dr. Creed. Like he didn’t want to hold back.

It hurt. The position had made it even easier for his dick to slide as far as possible.

The darkness made it better. My entire body just focused on the way it felt when he filled my pussy up.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “That’s right Sloane, you take it like a good little slut. Are you a good little slut Sloane?”

As he continued to fuck me, my back rubbed against the sheets. They weren’t silky or soft. They were linen. My skin burned.

“Y-y-ye-yes…” I stuttered. He was thrusting so hard that my whole body was bouncing, my tits moving in time with his motions. “I’m a goo-good little s-sl-slut.”

Chapter 17

I felt him grab my waist and twist me so that I was now lying on my side. Then he filled me again. He pushed hard and deep. I felt my ass cheeks jiggle as he pumped.

The pleasure was almost too much. My jaw fell open and all I could do was breathe in and breathe out. I was being fucked so good, my lungs had forgotten how to function.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “You’re doing so well, Sloane. Do you like it? Do you like it when I fuck your tight little pussy?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “Your cock is so fucking big.”

His index and middle fingers found my clit. He pressed against it, his fingers moving in small circular motions. I moaned loudly, my breathing coming in short bursts. The sound of the metal chains that held my wrists to the spreader bar sounded around us as they rattled against each other.

Then I felt myself tighten around his cock. Pulsating. Throbbing. Exploding in pleasure.

“God, I love it,” he moaned. “This pussy belongs to me Sloane. No one makes you cum like me.”

He continued to thrust into me as my orgasm finished and I soon felt his cum flood inside of my vagina. I could feel the warmth of it as he let out a loud grunt.

Then, his motions slowed to a stop. I could hear him catching his breath. As he pulled away, I felt the aftermath of our orgasms dripping from me. After he pulled away from me, the air felt cool against the skin of my sore pussy.

I felt his hands move to the bar and release my wrists and ankles.

“You’re getting more used to it,” I heard him say. I could hear him putting his clothes back on. “Next time, you’ll see all three of us. There are some cloths next to you.”

And he left, just like that. In the way he had always left.

I fumbled in the darkness and found the cloth. It was wet and cool. I cleaned myself up and found my clothing, slipping it on. I heard a knock at the door of the bedroom soon after. Nora greeted me. Guiding me back to the car that I had come in.

---

The next morning, I sat at my desk. Everything hurt.

My ass hurt from Dr. Creed spanking it and The Curator whipping it. My knees hurt from the car accident. My pussy ached from Vale fucking me senseless. In fact, it ached from all of them.

I couldn’t take much more. It wasn’t humanly possible…was it?

The clock had just struck 10 am. I’d been at work since 6 am. I was already exhausted and was three coffees deep. But I persisted, already knocking out most of my to-do list for the day.

But then…my phone buzzed. I opened it to read the text.

Come immediately.

Diamond Montgomery.

Drive yourself. Come in whatever clothing you have on.

Nora will not be there. Show your ID at the front lobby to get a keycard.

The blindfold will be hanging on the door.

Highest level.

-The Curator

Come right now? How the hell was I meant to do that?

I texted back.

I can’t just leave work, I could get into trouble.

He responded faster than expected.

You have contractual obligations to fulfill Sloane.

I groaned. I needed to get the hell out of here or I was going to lose one million dollars-but how? I shut my laptop and slipped the Audi keys into my pocket. I pulled out my mobile and found Mr. Drake’s cell phone number and sent him a quick text.

Just stepping out for an early lunch. Be back soon.

Then, I rushed to the elevator, tapping the button to go down. My eyes darted to the numbers above the doors as they decreased. If Mr. Drake texted to say that I wasn’t allowed to have an early lunch, I would pretend like I didn’t see his response in time. Then I would play dumb and say-

Ding.

The doors slid open and I stepped in. Almost bumping into a man’s massive chest.

“Excuse-” I started to say, looking up. My breath caught in my throat. Of course it was him. Of course.

Vivid green eyes. Hair tousled like a model on the beach. Slick black suit jacket over a tan shirt with the top buttons undone. The jawline of a God. It was him.

Mr. Drake looked down at me, “Hello Miss Heathrow.”

We stood like that. Me staring up at him like a startled deer and him looking down at me, one eyebrow cocked. And for some unknown reason, he didn’t budge. Not even when the elevator doors shut. My cheeks burned bright and I slid to the side.

“Good morning,” I said, avoiding his direct gaze.

“So what did you decide on?” he asked. I felt his gaze on the side of my face.

“Decide?” I asked quickly.

“What have you decided to do?” He asked. I turned to look at him. He couldn’t possibly know…

“Sorry, I-” I tried to speak but words failed me.

“For your early lunch,” he smiled. “What did you decide on?”

Of course he meant my lunch. What an actual idiot I am.

“Uh, cafe,” I said blankly. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

He smiled again and turned as the doors opened, pulling his car keys from his pocket, “Have a good lunch.”

He walked forward without looking back, heading straight towards an incredibly expensive looking red sports car. Maybe it was a Lamborghini or maybe it was Mercedes. I didn’t know shit about cars, but it sure was a nice one.

Something about his voice. His movements. Even the way he smelled like fresh linen and cologne. It made me ache. I felt my pussy growing wet.

What in the actual hell was wrong with me? I had three men already. Ones who made me cum, made me beg and scream. Why in God’s name did I have spare room to think about my boss?

I shook my head and sighed, making my way towards the Audi. I slid inside. I was still getting used to how luxurious it was. Black leather. Sleek. The seats stitched together with perfect precision.

I had never seen myself driving something like this. But I turned it on and reversed out of my parking spot. I started the drive towards the hotel.

I arrived and parked in the parking garage. I got out of the car and started walking towards the lobby. I suddenly became self conscious of my appearance, as I normally had time to prepare before seeing the men. And luxurious clothing to wear.

I hadn’t even found time to use the platinum card yet to buy new clothing. Instead, I had been recycling a few outfits. Between getting the daylights fucked out of me, dealing with my dad and starting a new job, I had not had a spare moment.

I made it to the front reception desk, showed them my ID and got into the elevator. I took a deep breath and pressed the button for the top floor.

I made it to the top and got out, walking up to the door. It was the same room that The Curator had met me in, on my first night of the contract.

The blindfold was dangling from the knob. I slid it on and knocked. I heard the door open almost immediately and a familiar voice greeted me.

“Hello Sloane,” It was The Curator. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

My knees went weak. My panties grew even wetter.

I felt a hand tug on my arm, pulling me forward. “Hey sweetheart.”

Dr. Creed.

He led me forward and stopped, letting go of my hand.

Then I heard Vale’s voice, “Take off your blindfold Sloane.”

“W-what?” I said, stumbling over my words. “Take it off?”

“Yes,” The Curator said. “You’re always in the dark. We need you to be able to see.”

I felt his finger graze along my cheek. “We need you to see what we do to you.”

I swallowed. “So…I can take it off?”

I heard Dr. Creed laugh, “God, she is timid.”

I heard Vale grunt in agreement.

“Come on baby, take it off.” The Curator said, his voice gentle.

I hesitated for a moment but nodded. I reached behind my head and pulled the blindfold loose.

What I saw, made my pussy throb like never before.

Chapter 18

I was living in a fucking dream.

There they stood. Shirtless. Wearing only shorts or pants. They each had ski-masks on, covering their faces. Their eyes peered back at me through the holes.

And holy shit. They were perfect.

One stood with an olive colored mask on and black shorts. He was broad and muscular, his muscles so perfectly defined, it was like they were carved from stone. His shorts hung low, revealing the V-curve of his obliques.

Another stood next to him in a dark blue mask. He was leaner but still muscular. His skin was tan-bronze really. He wore a pair of distressed, but stylish jeans. He stood more casually than the other too-more aloof.

The last one wore a dark grey mask and a pair of slacks. He was broad, large and muscular. He had two tattoo sleeves-elaborate letters, antique clocks, marbled statues. The work was stunning to say the least. His posture was stiff and formal.

Somehow I knew. The olive mask was The Curator. The dark blue mask was Dr. Creed and Vale wore the grey.

My eyes were still on their bodies, roaming. Like a schoolgirl staring at her crush. I wanted to ride their dicks. I wanted them. All three of them. In me. On me.

“I think she is having a seizure,” Dr. Creed snickered.

Vale grunted, “She wants us to fuck her now. Right Sloane?”

I didn’t hesitate, not for one second, “Yes sir.” My eyes snapped to his. I was ready to go.

“Vale…” The Curator sighed. But it was too late. Vale had already closed the distance between us, lifting me by my waist and placing me on the kitchen table.

“Come on Vale,” Dr. Creed sighed.

I ignored them too. My hands slid around his large frame as he slipped his hand under my dress. I was gripping his muscular arms. His sculpted shoulders. My legs wrapped around his waist.

He had bright blue eyes that stared through the holes of his mask. Intense. Hungry. Full of lust. I looked down as his hand slipped higher, slipping under my lace thong. He inserted two fingers into my vagina.

I was already wet. I moaned as I watched the muscles of his forearm ripple as he moved in and out of me.

I leaned down, my mouth finding his neck. I sucked on his skin. Salty.

Then I latched down, my teeth nipping at his skin as I reached for the button of his pants. I pulled it loose and jerked his zipper down.

He was still fingering me, growling as I continued my sucking, “You won’t do that to me when I have you in a harness Sloane.”

The thought of a harness only made me more horny.

“Vale,” Dr. Creed laughed. “We haven’t even shown her what’s in the room.”

The Curator laughed, “He wants to warm her up for us.”

Vale’s pants fell to the floor and I pulled at his underwear. I wanted my next fix. I wanted his big cock. They fell to the ground and my breath hitched.

I had felt his cock before but my God. It looked even bigger. “It’s massive.” I breathed, my hand reaching for it immediately as he moaned. Large, smooth. Warm and rock hard.

He positioned himself between me and slid into my vagina, gripping tightly to my hips. I placed the palms of both hands, on either side of me to grip the edges of the table, tightened my legs around him and leaned my head back. I moaned and stayed like that as he continued to plunge into me.

“So big,” I said, gasping and enjoying the sensation.

“Dirty girl,” The Curator’s voice said. “You couldn’t even wait.” I turned to see him and Dr. Creed standing to the side, watching.

“Do you like it when I use you?” Vale groaned, his massive cock thrusting. “Use you like a slut?”

“God, yes.” I moaned. “Use me like a toy. Fuck me. Hurt me. Do what you want.”

“Such incredible tits,” I heard Dr. Creed say. “I swear she is built like a porn star.”

I loved it. Being compared to a porn star. Yes, I had a small waist. Big tits. Big ass. But I never thought of myself as being that sexy.

I looked down and watched Vale’s movements. His ab muscles shifted and tightened as he fucked me, his dick moving in and out at full speed. Wet and sticky.

His forearms were flexed as he held me, his tattoos moving and dancing as he thrusted.

This had to be a dream that I was bound to wake up from.

“Ok Vale, enough.” The Curator sighed.

Vale groaned, “I don’t want to stop.”

“Vale,” The Curator laughed.

He began to slow his motions but I gripped onto him. He growled and pulled me off the table. He bent me over it and started pumping into me.

Fuck it felt good. The way he filled me up. I was screaming now, pleasure rocking my body again.

“Vale!” The Curator said.

“Just let him,” Dr. Creed said. “I’m enjoying the view of her ass.“

Vale slid out of me and pulled me to the floor. I squealed as we tumbled back. He grabbed my waist and pulled me into his lap.

“Sit on my cock,” he murmured in my ear.

“Yes, sir,” I nodded. I crouched above his waist and lunged down slowly as he held it in place. “Oh God, too big.”

“Easy Vale, that’s deep,” The Curator said.

“Take my cock slut,” Vale growled. And he tugged me down. Stretching me and filling me so deeply that I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The Curator kneeled in front of me and gripped my face, “Are you ok?”

My breath was heavy but my eyes locked onto The Curators as I lunged upward. His hands gripped my shoulders as I sank back down on Vale’s big cock. My mouth dropped open from the pain-but also from pleasure.

The Curator slipped three fingers into my mouth, “Bite down if it hurts baby.”

I nodded, tears in my eyes. I moved up, then down. The pain hit me as I sank and I bit down on The Curator’s hand.

“She’s actually taking it at that angle,” I heard Dr. Creed say. “Fuck she is perfect.”

“She’s a good girl,” The Curator said, his eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, it almost felt like it was only the two of us.

I moved up and sank back down. His gaze never left mine as I began moving faster, biting his hand when I needed to.

“There she is,” Vale said. “She can ride it.’

And I did. My movements increased and I latched onto The Curator’s shoulders for balance. I was bouncing now. Dripping on Vale’s dick, my ass cheeks smacking his thighs.

Smack. Smack.

I was still eye to eye with The Curator. Dr. Creed was still watching.

“Good girl Sloane,” The Curator said gently. “Take it. Just like that.”

Vale’s grip on my waist tightened and the next time I moved, he pulled me back down with force.

I lifted my head back, The Curator’s fingers falling from my mouth. I screamed, my nails digging into The Curator’s shoulders.

“Sshhh,” he said softly, now shoving his fingers back into my mouth. “Bite. Don’t scream.”

I nodded.

Vale tugged me down again and I bit The Curator’s fingers. I felt a finger on my clit. The Curator was rubbing it.

“A small reward for taking Vale’s dick so well,” he said, as I moaned. His fingers stifled the sound.

Vale pulled me back down but this time I stayed down, now gently rocking my hips.

Vale’s dick pulsed and exploded. His cum filling me up. I came too. My pussy tightening around him. I moaned against The Curators fingers as we looked into each other’s eyes.

The Curator grabbed my waist and tugged me upward.

“We got a bit carried away there. We are meant to show you something. It’s the reason we wore masks today. So you could see.” The Curator said.

“Um,” I said blankly, still trying to refocus after my orgasm. “Ok, let’s go.”

Just then a phone buzzed. He turned quickly and headed towards the sound, pulling a phone from a drawer. He disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, while he is on the phone,” Dr. Creed said slowly, grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him. My hands landed flat against his chest. They roamed upwards, exploring his hard muscles.

He spun me around and pushed me back towards the table. He pressed on the back of my head. My cheek was now lying flat against the tabletop.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading! If this chapter made you feel anything, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chapter 19

“Her panties are soaked,” Dr Creed murmured, reaching out to trace a finger along the outside. My body shivered.

He lifted my dress and slipped the lace of my thong to the side. He thrust into me as he let out a deep moan of pleasure. He spared no time. He began pounding into me.

It shocked me, and I squealed.

“Such a tight pussy,” he moaned. “And that ass.”

He was clapping my cheeks, the sound of our skin smacking together ringing in the air. He clutched onto my waist and pounded even harder. I gasped and leaned up, but he pushed my head back down.

“Take it Sloane,” he said, his voice commanding. “Take my dick.”

I moaned as he continued his thrusts. I could see Vale off to the side, his eyes carefully watching us. My ass was bouncing and he smacked it occasionally. My pussy twitched each time he spanked me.

It only made me want it more.

“Do you like it Sloane?” he groaned, still pumping into me at full force.

“Y-y-yes,” I stuttered. He was fucking me so hard, I couldn’t speak. I loved it. The way he used me.

My pussy was tightening already. I was ready to explode. Then I did. Coating his massive dick with my moisture as the orgasm rippled along my spine.

“Fuck,” he hissed, as he pulsated and his cum flooded my vagina. He continued to pump until he had fully released inside of me. He pulled away, letting out a deep breath.

“She still feels like a virgin,” he said, giving my ass a hard smack before stepping back.

I stood up, cum trickling down my leg. Dr Creed laughed and turned towards the kitchen to retrieve a rag. He tossed it at me and I smiled, cleaning up the mess we had made.

I heard the bedroom door open and The Curator walked out. He turned to look at Dr Creed, “You too? No one could wait?”

Dr Creed shrugged, “You know what her pussy feels like.” He looked over at me and my cheeks burned red.

“We need to leave,” The Curator said.

“What?” Dr Creed asked. “For what?”

“Now,” The Curator said, looking over at both of them. “We have something to attend to.”

Then he walked up to me, stopping just in front of me, “I’m sorry darling. Something unexpected came up.” He lifted a large hand to touch my face. I noticed a small tattoo, so faint I almost missed it. On the side of his wrist.

A tiny monogrammed ‘T’. His hand trailed along my cheek. It felt warm. Comforting.

“It’s ok,” I said, forcing a smile.

He leaned down, his mouth at my ear, “Next time, we will show you our surprise.” Then he leaned back. For some reason, I felt an instant coldness.

He walked to the door of the penthouse and opened it for me. I stepped out into the hallway.

“See you next time,” he said gently, before shutting the door behind me.

---

The Next Day

I dropped into my chair and turned on my monitors. Lines of code spilled across the screen. I smiled.

I loved code.

It was one of the software programs that Mr. Drake wanted me to break through. He’d assigned it to me when I first arrived-one of many items he wanted me to action. I’d chipped away at it everyday.

He wanted me to disarm its walls. Hack into it and find its weaknesses. I skimmed through the encryption layers, trying to forget about my 55 unanswered emails, until something made me pause.

A pattern. A very specific one.

I leaned closer, my breath slowing. I’d seen this before. I couldn’t quite recall where, though.

Before I could try and retrieve the memory, my office door swung open. Delilah. She leaned against my doorway. Her face was flat.

“Morning, Sloane,” she said, with absolutely no expression whatsoever. “Mr. Drake asked me to tell you there’s a meeting at noon. Conference room B. About your progress.”

I didn’t look away from my screen. “Thanks,” I muttered.

She hated me. Hated that I had the nice office. And the Audi. And Mr. Drake’s attention. Even if it was strictly professional. She spun on her heel and left.

I turned back to the code. The pattern stared back at me. I swear it was taunting me, begging me to crack it.

And I would.

An hour later, I walked into the conference room with my laptop tucked under my arm. My heart was pounding. There were more people there than I expected. Aaron Kessler and his team of five others sat at the table.

Aaron Kessler had led a small team in attempting to hack into the same software for the past few months. They were all employees who had been hired a few months before me. From the gossip I had heard in the office, they had failed.

I could not figure out why I had not been simply added to their team. Why I had been tasked to do it on my own.

I gazed around the table. Three men sat at the head of the table—the CEOs. Two that I recognized immediately.

Mr. Drake, of course. His bright green eyes found mine immediately, and he smiled. He wore a classic navy suit over a crisp white shirt. Everything tailored within an inch of its life.

Mr. Hernandez was there too, leaning back casually against his chair. He was dressed in a charcoal sweater and dress pants. Today he wore a stylish pair of black glasses that perfectly framed his honey-brown eyes. He winked at me, and I quickly looked away. My cheeks burned.

But the third man—I had never seen before. But I could tell by the way he sat that he was the third CEO.

He was large. Broad shoulders, thick arms. His chair looked undersized under his large frame. His suit was old-money elegant. Dark charcoal and soft patterns. A few tattoos peeked out from beneath his cuff. His blonde hair was neatly parted and styled to the side.

His blue eyes swept over me. They were intense. Almost scary.

He stood to his feet as he continued to stare at me and walked toward me. He closed the distance between us, and I almost fainted. God, he was sexy.

He reached out one large hand. “Axel Lockridge.”

I tried to hold in my surprise. There was no way that he was from… the Lockridge family? But he could be. He was obviously rich as fuck. The Lockridge family was one of the wealthiest in all of North America. Old money. Like real old.

I took his hand. His swallowed mine. I felt my pussy throb instantly.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Sloane,” I said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He didn’t smile back—he just nodded and returned to his seat.

Their attractiveness should have warranted an HR complaint. How the hell was anyone in this office meant to get anything done with these men around?

“Sloane,” Drake said, gesturing to a chair. “Let’s hear your update.”

I sat, opening my laptop. I connected my screen to the smartboard in the meeting room, and everyone’s eyes turned to watch.

“I’ve made progress,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “But I found something unusual this morning. A piece of embedded code.”

Aaron Kessler’s eyes widened. “Where?”

“Here,” I said, tapping the highlighted string. “This isn’t random encryption. It’s a signature.”

The room grew silent.

Mr. Lockridge leaned forward and crossed his arms thoughtfully. He looked over at Mr. Hernandez. Something flickered between them, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

And Mr. Drake… his expression barely shifted, but there was a trace of a smile at the edges of his mouth.

“Show us,” he said quietly.

I looked at the code glowing on my screen. “It’s a flaw. A tiny crack in your code. You hid it well. I haven’t completely cracked it yet, but I am certain that I can.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, the tips of his fingers drumming along the tabletop.

“Progress,” he said. His tone was harsh. Sarcastic. “Right. Are you saying that you have begun cracking the code? That it suddenly started opening for you after a couple of weeks, when the rest of us have been breaking our backs?”

The room went so still, you could hear the sounds of traffic from the streets below.

Even I blinked. I was taken completely by surprise. Before I could respond, a chair scraped along the tiled floor. The sound made me jump.

Mr. Lockridge stood up so fast the table shifted slightly. His eyes were sharp. Dark. Angry.

His voice dropped as he turned to stare at Aaron. “Watch your mouth.”

“Mr. Lockridge…” I heard Mr. Drake say.

I felt a flicker of déjà vu.

Aaron sputtered, his cocky demeanor instantly evaporating. “I—I didn’t—”

“No,” Mr. Lockridge said, his voice deadly. “You meant to belittle her work.” He sounded pissed. “You think because you’ve failed at your job for three months, pretending to understand our code, that you have the right to question her?”

I sucked in my breath. I was pretty sure someone would have to stop him or he was going to rip out Aaron’s throat.

Chapter 20

The entire room looked stunned. Except the other CEOs. Mr. Drake was rolling his eyes as if he were annoyed.

Mr. Hernandez was smirking, now casually pulling out a pack of gum as he watched. He unwrapped a piece and slid it into his mouth before turning to look at me. He grinned—bright and friendly. Then he shrugged his shoulders at me, as if to say, “What can you do?”

Like they were used to him becoming… aggressive.

Mr. Lockridge leaned forward, hands planted on the table.

“She has done more in a couple of weeks than you have done in ninety days,” he growled. “If you disrespect her again, then this company won’t be your fucking problem anymore. I will be your fucking problem.”

Aaron’s face was now pale. He nodded, “I understand.”

I cleared my throat softly, breaking the tension.

“I’ll just continue,” I murmured, turning my gaze back to the smartboard. “I found a repeating structure in the encryption pattern.”

The CEOs’ focus snapped back to me instantly; their full attention was on me again. Mr. Lockridge’s face fell flat, and he sat back in his chair.

Aaron was looking down at the table.

“I isolated these patterns,” I continued, hovering over each section. “They’re too deliberate to be random. You got sloppy here.”

Mr. Drake’s gaze turned to me before he spoke; his voice was softer in an unsettling way.

“We did.”

Mr. Hernandez leaned in, eyes full of amusement. Mr. Lockridge’s face remained flat, but his eyes were staring through me.

I sighed. “I’m getting closer, but I’m not there just yet.”

“You are,” Mr. Drake said.

Mr. Hernandez nodded. “Closer than anyone has ever been.”

Mr. Lockridge rested his arms on the table and leaned forward, his eyes darting to look at Aaron and then back to me.

“And no one,” he said, his voice still tinted with anger, “will get in your way.”

My stomach flipped.

And my core… it tightened.

In an oddly familiar way…

---

The next day, I had finally made time to go shopping. After a couple of weeks of staring at all the glamorous outfits that many of the women in the office wore. They were always polished. Every hair perfectly in place. Outfits that looked like they’d come off the cover of Vogue.

I had decided to go on my lunch break. I knew I wouldn’t have time otherwise.

I grabbed the platinum Express Card Mr. Drake had given me and headed downtown to meet Georgie. Georgie was already waiting for me outside, halfway through an iced mocha latte. She waved and smiled at me as I walked up.

“Sloane!” she yelled. “God, you look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” I sighed. “But I really need to get some new clothes. I’ve been recycling the same ones.”

Georgie smiled brightly. “Thank God. I was starting to worry your dresses might fall apart.”

I rolled my eyes.

She was now reaching into her purse. “Look, Sloane. That money you left—I haven’t spent it. You really should not have—”

“Stop,” I said, holding up one hand. “Stop talking and keep it.”

She looked at me. “I can’t—”

I ignored her and walked into the store. We were starting at a cheap clothing store because I insisted. I picked up a plain shirt and held it up.

“This is fine,” I said.

Georgie stared at me like I’d insulted the Pope.

“Sloane,” she said gently, “you… have a platinum corporate card. For work clothes. Work. Clothes.”

I sighed. “But I don’t want to—”

“No.” She dropped the shirt back onto the rack as if it had personally offended her. “Absolutely not. You were given it for a reason. We gave this place a shot—now let’s leave.”

I groaned. “Georgie—”

“Out,” she demanded, tugging on my wrist.

Before I could keep arguing, she pulled me outside and straight into one of the high-end boutiques across the street. The kind with marble floors, leather seats, and socks that cost more than my monthly rent.

I froze the second I saw the first price tag.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Georgie, I can’t spend this much company money. This is five thousand fucking dollars.”

Georgie groaned dramatically. “Do you want to look like a knock-off Barbie, or are we having our Miss Congeniality moment?”

Before she could continue scolding me, a customer service associate glided over. And I mean glided. She sported a sleek bun, gold-studded earrings, and was dressed in black from head to toe.

“Good afternoon,” she said politely. “How can I assist you today?” Though her voice was warm, her eyes were scanning me. Assessing me.

I just stared at her as if she had spoken a foreign language to me. Georgie intervened, “I’m trying to help her determine her price range.”

I stuttered. “My boss gave me a card to use for work clothes.”

Her perfectly laminated eyebrows rose upwards. “Do you know if there is an account open with us? I can look up previous transactions and get a sense of what you’re comfortable spending.”

I nodded. “It’s BD Systems. And my boss is Adrian Drake.”

Her eyes widened—as if I had just announced that the queen was arriving.

She breathed. “I wish you had booked an appointment. I would have personally styled you. I may have time today.”

I felt like disappearing.

“I really don’t think I should spend too much,” I insisted.

The woman placed a gentle hand over her heart and laughed—as if I had just told the world’s best joke.

“Please give me a moment.”

She disappeared. Georgie leaned in, “Told you.”

A minute later, the associate returned, her eyes bright.

“I know Mr. Drake very well,” she said, her smile wide. “I gave him a call.”

I choked on my own spit. “You WHAT?”

“And he said—” she paused for dramatic effect, “—the sky is the limit.”

Georgie covered her mouth with both hands, eyes bulging.

I stood there, stunned.

“He… said that?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said confidently. “And he insisted. So please—let me pull options for you. Anything you need.”

Then she turned to Georgie. “And he said your friend could have anything she liked as well. I told him you had brought a companion.”

Georgie grabbed my arm to steady herself. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing.

The sky is the limit?

“He also said you could have an extended lunch break,” she smiled. “And to take as much time as you needed.”

And then… utter chaos.

A private styling suite. Racks of tailored pieces. The associate was handing me items, pulling out a measuring tape. Another two associates showed up. Georgie was living her best life, sipping on the glasses of champagne they offered her.

At some point, they brought out a charcuterie board, and she was eating some sort of foreign cheese made in the mountains of the middle-of-fucking-nowhere.

There were shoes in velvet boxes. Dresses that suctioned to me in all the right places. The associates were hyper-attentive as they pinned, draped, and styled me like I was royalty. Georgie got the same treatment, twirling in outfits she said she had seen on billboards.

An hour later, the associate rang up the total. But the screen was turned away from me. I tried to peer around and look but she held a hand up.

She smiled, “He said you are not permitted to know the total.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Georgie said with a smile.

---

The next day at the office started off as it normally did. Only this time, I was dressed for the part. I was wearing a dark emerald sheath dress. It hugged my waist with a built-in corseted structure, giving me an hourglass silhouette without looking too tight or inappropriate. The neckline was a square cut—refined and chic.

I had paired it with a pair of strappy gold heels. Georgie had insisted on staying at my apartment last night to help me get ready.

She’d styled my hair in long waves, shaded my eyelids with taupe eyeshadow, coated my lashes in mascara, and painted perfect strokes of pale pink lipstick on my lips.

The new look felt foreign, yet I also felt more… confident. Georgie called it being a “boss bitch.”

I heard a knock before my door opened and Delilah was standing there. She never bothered to wait for me to tell her she could enter. She charged toward me, her face already annoyed. She stopped mid-stride and eyed me.

“What—” Her expression was confused. “When?”

I just stared back at her, “Yes?”

“Nothing.” She said, her eyes scanning me. “Mr. Drake wanted to see you.”

“Thanks,” I said, standing to my feet. Her eyes widened as I stood.

“Is that the Emerald Empire dress?” she gasped. “I thought it hadn’t been released yet.”

I shrugged. “I have no clue what it’s called. But that sounds about right.”

Her eyes narrowed as I tucked my laptop into my new leather bag. Her eyes flickered to it and widened again.

I slung it over my shoulder. “Is this something special too?”

I smirked internally. I had remembered the associate saying that this bag was a pre-sale, exclusive to only some members of the boutique.

Her jaw was still dropped as I strutted past her and made my way to the elevator. I went up to Mr. Drake’s private floor, walked up to his door, and buzzed.

“Come in,” I heard him say through the door.

I opened it and walked in. He looked up from his desk. He stopped his movements, his fingers freezing above his keyboard mid-type. His vivid green eyes flickered across my face and then down the length of my body. He looked surprised for a moment. But then his expression changed to something else. Appreciation, maybe.

Was Adrian Drake checking me out?

Surely not.

“Mr. Drake,” I said quickly, walking toward him.

He smiled and motioned toward the chair in front of him. I slid in, and his eyes scanned me again. It made me shudder. I didn’t want him to stop looking.

I groaned internally at my own thinking before I spoke, “You really did not need to tell the associate that—”

“Sloane,” he said, voice calm and even, “your role requires you to be equipped properly. It’s my responsibility to ensure you have what you need.”

He paused for a few moments—just long enough for my pulse to skip.

“I take care of the people under my supervision,” he said softly. “And I plan to take very good care of you.”

I stopped breathing.

He continued, totally composed, as if he hadn’t just melted my spine. “Now, I was hoping for another update. I saw your summary here from yesterday.”

He lifted one large hand to point at his screen. Then I saw it. Briefly. Just a flicker. The cuff of his white shirt lifted slightly.

Just enough for me to catch a small glimpse of something on the side of his wrist.

A tiny tattoo.