“Hi, I’m Charlie,” I start. My hands are clasped in front of me, and I don’t know why I feel so nervous all of a sudden. I’m not normally so skittish.
“You should start on your knees. Never be on your feet when I enter the room. And you don’t speak unless I ask you to. When you do, you will address me as Sir and nothing else. Is that understood?” His voice is deep and cold like it comes directly from the depths of the ocean. I’m stuck on his words, trying to make sense of them. My body is suddenly in a panic when I get the eerie feeling I just walked into something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Excuse me?” I stammer. He freezes in his spot, his eyes skating over my body head to toe, and I feel a flush of warmth up my spine.
“On your knees,” he barks out. My breath is punched out of my body. I should be running and screaming, and I definitely should not be considering lowering to the floor for him. Is he some sort of chauvinistic jerk who thinks all women should bow to him or something? And if that idea gets my blood pressure rising with rage, why do I feel so randomly…aroused?
“Why?” I ask.
He reacts like I’ve slapped him. “Well, you want your money, don’t you?”
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
No, no! Charlotte Marie Underwood, don’t you dare even consider this for one second. This manipulative bastard does not control you, and you do not have to kneel on the carpet for him! That’s your money, and you don’t have to do shit for it.
But he’s watching me with fire in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for me to obey. Every rational part of my brain is shouting at me to tell this guy to fuck off, get bent, and eat a bag of dicks…but the rational part of my brain is not in control at the moment.
He is.
My knees actually start to bend, and I cannot believe myself. When they hit the carpet, I expect to feel utterly humiliated. I want to be enraged. Instead, I’m still gazing up at his face, waiting to see what this psychopath has in store for me next.
He doesn’t want me to…you know…have sex with him just to get my thousand bucks back, does he? I draw the line there.
I think.
Yes, yes, I definitely draw the line there.
“Much better,” he says warmly, and a strange sense of calm washes over me.
Then he steps closer until he’s within arm’s reach, at which point I get a whiff of his intoxicating cologne. I’m gazing up at this mountain of a man when he reaches out a hand and strokes my jawline before taking my chin in his grip.
Hello, inappropriate, my inner alarm is blaring. This is very, very, very fucking inappropriate, but how the hell am I supposed to get out of it now? I’ve already kneeled.
“Normally, I’d want your eyes on the floor, but I want to look at you.” He tilts my chin up as he examines my face.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t do anything because I am defenseless prey in his hands. He’s a lion and I’m a meek gazelle caught between his teeth.
His features soften, and the corner of his lip twitches. “Lovely.”
That word drips like warm honey trickling down my spine.
When he lets go of my chin, he spins away and walks to the other side of his desk.
“Where did Garrett find you?” he asks.
“Garrett?” I stammer, confused. Does he mean Beau?
“I told him not to send anyone today, and you clearly need more training, but—"
It’s like someone snaps in front of my face, waking me up from this hypnosis. “Wait, what?” I bark out, interrupting him.
His head snaps in my direction, looking offended by my audacity to cut him off.
“Who is Garrett? What training are you talking about?”
“What is your name?” he asks slowly.
“Charlotte Underwood. I’m here to pick up a check from you.”
“Charlotte? What check—" There is a twitch in his eye at the exact moment he realizes something is wrong, and all of the control and calm melt off his face until he looks scrambled and apologetic. “Jesus, get up.”
I jump to my feet.
I watch as he rubs his brow line, looking pensive and distraught. “You’re Beau’s girlfriend,” he says with a groan.
“Ex,” I correct. He glances up at me with a hint of surprise on his face.
“You broke up?”
That’s what he’s focusing on right now?
“Yes.”
Letting out an exhale, he reclines in his seat, and I wait for him to say something.
“I just need half of that check. He gave me your address and told me to come get it.”
There’s a wince in his expression and he goes back to rubbing his forehead. “Of course. How much do you need?”
I watch as he reaches into the drawer of his desk, pulling out a checkbook and a pen.
“The deposit was for two thousand, and half of that was mine.”
When his eyes dance up to greet me again, I feel myself almost cower. He’s so intimidating, and maybe that’s where Beau gets it from, although Beau acts more powerful than he really is. This guy just is powerful, no denying that.
He scribbles out the check, rips it from its place, and passes it to me. Quickly, I step forward and take it. I should run away right now. I have what I came for, the awkward mix-up is behind us, and I have no further reason to stay, but I feel stuck in my spot.
“Charlotte, I have to apologize. I’m afraid I thought you were someone else when I found you in my office.”
He won’t look at me as he speaks, just unbuttons his sleeves and begins rolling them up. I’m fixated on the movement of his hands and the way that tight white shirt looks against his tan skin.
I swallow. “Who did you think I was?” I ask, knowing full well I have absolutely no right to that answer, but I’m nothing if not stubborn and reckless.
His eyes are back on my face again. “It’s not important.”
“Someone who works for you? Or someone you…hire?”
He glares at me, his eyes squinting with intensity as he realizes what I’m implying.
“Like I said, it’s not important, and I’d appreciate you not sharing any of this with Beau.”
“I don’t talk to him anymore, and I don’t plan to.”
His jaw clenches as he exhales the word, “Fine.”
Turning on my heels, I head toward the door, reading the check as I go, feeling utterly humiliated and irritable because of it. And just as I reach for the door handle, I picture Sophie’s face. And I remember that her birthday is coming up, and how those Anime Fest tickets are expensive, and she wanted VIP passes to meet her favorite illustrator.
So I pause.
Oh God, this is stupid, but I have to try.
I turn around to face the person who intimidates me more than anyone I’ve ever met. And when I see him there, filling up that large chair behind that giant desk in front of floor-to-ceiling bay windows, it makes sense to me why girls would come in here and kneel for him. I bet he’s not used to girls who talk back, challenge him, give him hell.
But he owes me. I got on my fucking knees for him.
“You know…I might see Beau again, actually,” I say carefully. He glances up at me with a curious notch in his brow.
“I hope I don’t accidentally let any of this slip…”
Oh, you are bold, Charlie.
My hands are shaking, and I can’t let him see me falter, so I quickly clutch them behind my back. I hold my head up high, shoulders back, and I look him right in the eye.
Without another word, he pulls out his checkbook again, and the look on his face says he is not happy at all, but I remind myself that I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s mad at me or hates me or that I’m making him angry.
Except I do. I do care, and I hate the disappointed scowl on his face as he scrawls out another check. But I need this money, and I’m in the position to get it.
Do it for Sophie, I remind myself.
“What number might help you remember to keep quiet?” he says with a grunt.
I quickly lick my lips. Fuck, I don’t know. So I’ll just go with the price of the Anime Fest with VIP passes. “Two-fifty.”
He glances up at me as if he’s surprised. Too much? Too little?
“Two hundred and fifty?”