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“Good girl. Now off to bed.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She pops her ass.
“I’m not your daddy. I’m your boss, and we have a big gala to go to tomorrow. I need you to look like you slept and not look hungover.”
“I told you I didn’t drink.” She nudges my chest. “Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking, Mr. Hunter. You’re apparently too wasted to understand I already said that before.”
“I’m not drunk, Harley. I’m annoyed.”
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” She leans on the wall, takes off her heels, and starts peeling off her dress before she gets to her bedroom. I can’t take my eyes off the sight. The door closes before her back is fully revealed, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve seen enough to destroy my control. This can’t go on much longer.
I have to send her away before I hurt her. Even if I don’t have that in me, what if I created a child who has his grandfather’s genes? I’ve considered the possibility multiple times and thought about just getting myself fixed, but that wouldn’t stop my fascination with Harley. No, my cravings have only gotten worse, the thoughts darker. I don’t want her to leave ever again, and the ache in my chest grows with every thought of her walking away.
****
“I’m ready, Dylan.” She steps out of the bedroom, and I’m fucking floored. Internally, I’m wrestling with the man and the animal inside me.
“God, you are so damn—perfect.” I stare at her, and there’s something she’s missing. Something I picked up especially for her. “Almost perfect.” I pull out a long jewelry box.
“Oh.” She takes it and opens it to a beautiful diamond pendant that she doesn’t know has a tracker inside it.
“Here, let me help you.” I take it and step behind her. Fuck, her hair is up, and I get to see her slender neck all night long. My dick is going to be throbbing painfully the entire time. I take the clasps and slide them along her collarbone until I grace the back of her neck, clipping it. Lingering for a moment, I breathe in her vanilla scent.
“How does it look?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.” I lead her to the elevator, and we head down to the limo where my driver is waiting for us. I help her slide in so that her dress doesn’t catch and then I slip in beside her.
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I hate these things. People are only there to try and con money out of me.”
“So then why do you go if you hate them?”
“It’s good press.”
“Oh. Is there anything you need me to do?” she says so sweetly that I want to bring her onto my lap and tell her to ride my cock all the way there so her pussy is dripping my cum and her body is covered in my scent, but I hold back.
“Act professional, and keep the flirting to a minimum.” Or none at all. The thought of her flirting with other men makes me want to snap necks. Several of my men will be on duty tonight to stop me from doing just that, and they know it. It’s the most security I’ve ever taken to an event, but it’s also to keep her protected from the predators. There are so many rich fucks eager to get their hands on a beauty like my woman—no, she’s just my assistant. Damn it, I have to stop thinking of her like that.
Chapter Six
Harley
I fight back tears in the limo, doing my best to look at my phone or out the window so I don’t give away the fact that he just hurt my feelings. Not that he’d notice since he just zoned out on me.
Did I read him wrong in the condo? Was he not marking me as his with the necklace? I guess it’s just business, and he wants me to look like someone he’d bring here. The way he touched me, I could swear he was being so damn possessive, and the comments. It was like the guy in the bar. Seriously, my heart hurts terribly. Try not to flirt with anyone, and act professionally. I’ll remember that. I’m just his assistant, and that’s what I’ll be.
“Sir, we have arrived,” his driver, John, says. I check my phone only to see my reflection, so he doesn’t notice. My makeup is flawless and so is my hair.
“Relax. We can just rush past the cameras and the press.” He steps out and extends his hand. I take it long enough to get out and free myself as soon as I’m on two feet. I swear I heard a growl come from him, but it might be the limo.
“Mr. Hunter. Dylan, can we get a comment from you?” several press members shout from behind the ropes. His men along with event security keep them at bay, but the questions still fly.
