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“Bianca promised me five grand for this job,” she sniffles.
“My time is valuable, sweetheart, and you’ve wasted a whole hell lot of it. I’m upping the stakes. Sign the NDA and suck my cock. Do that and I will honor what Bianca promised you. You got 2 minutes before I up the stakes again.”
Her bottom lip begins to quiver as she weighs her options. Her tears flow more rapidly down her still bruised face. I take a pen from my breast pocket and throw it onto the table next to her.
“Tik Tok,” I taunt.
After a brief hesitation, she picks up the pen and sign. She places the folder back on the table before slowly dropping to her knees before me. She reaches for my dress pants and fumbles with the button. She closes her eyes and I revel in her discomfort and shame. Finally getting me undone, she reaches inside my pants to find me commando, my dick already at half-mast.
Before she can set my cock free, I grab her wrist and push her hand away. She releases her grip. “Still easy as ever, I see. What’s your body count up to these days?”
“Screw you. I did what you said. Glad this is all so entertaining to you. What you’re doing is way worse than what I put you through in high school.”
“Get the hell up and out of my sight before I change my mind. One fuck up and I will toss you out on your ass. And like you offered before … pretend you don’t know me.”
“Gladly,” she says, wiping her eyes as she gets off her knees. She has some snark in her. Good. I wouldn’t want breaking her to come that easy. Where is the fun in that?
“And Vivienne,” I say before she can leave. She pauses at the door but doesn’t answer. “You’ll find a copy of that NDA back in your stateroom. I suggest you read it. You will be held accountable for what you’ve signed.”
With that, she slams the door behind her. My cock hardens further for the war that just commenced. She has no idea what she just agreed to the moment she signed my NDA. Let the games begin.
CHAPTER FOUR
VIVIENNE
I sink into my bed as soon as I return to my room. I knew this offer was too good to be true and now I’m stuck enduring whatever that sadist has planned for me—possibly a worse fate than I left behind in New York with Michael. I emptied my bank accounts to be here and now some guy that’s supposed to be a distant memory is literally the puppet master of my life. My tears return with a vengeance. I’ve officially hit rock bottom. I was willing to suck his cock to keep from being thrown out on my ass, only for him to refuse me.
A bright red folder, that wasn’t there before, sits on the nightstand next to me. I carefully pick it up and open it, noting that it is indeed the NDA I so hastily signed moments earlier. My stomach turns as I realize what I was willing to do for this opportunity, and I feel pitiful. But the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get. I didn’t come all this way to be blackmailed and humiliated.
I tear open the NDA and skim through it. My heart sinks as I read what kind of cruise this is. The non-disclosure starts by outlining the boundaries of spaces between staff and guests. Two floors in the aft are not accessible to staff unless they’re designated to work those floors. My duties will be limited to the middle part of the boat, called the amidship, and is where the guests of the Lair mainly interact. The restricted first and second floor of the aft is accessible by two different colored key cards. The NDA doesn’t go into specifics about what is on each floor, only that it’s adult … i.e., sexually related. In summary, guests take this cruise to experience whatever kink they paid for. They don’t have access to both restricted floors; they can only visit the one they signed up and paid for, hence the different colored key cards.
The kinky crap stays in the back of the boat, so there’s that. Everywhere else is considered neutral territory, which includes two cinemas, multiple lounges and bars, gyms, an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, and some other amenities. Employees only have access to the amenities in the forward part of the boat. The indoor pool is located on the third floor forward. The forty guest suites are situated on the first and third-floor midship. I mentally keep track of all the information I’m reading and summarize that the first and second floor in the aft is for kink, mid is neutral space and guest rooms, forward is for the staff. I’m still not sure what goes on in the aft, but as long as that’s where it stays, I don’t care. The NDA bounds me from discussing any aspects regarding The Playboy Lair’s business operations or any guests who have been aboard. It is against the rules for us to have any inappropriate interaction with the guests. Invitations are only sent to a select forty people per cruise to maintain an intimate, prestigious experience and only the most elite even know about the cruise.
I startle at the sudden knock on my door. Begrudgingly, I head to open it. It’s Eleonor.
“Sorry, I took off. I had instructions to take you to the yacht’s main boardroom and return for you later, but you had already left. Did Atticus go over the NDA with you?”
I step aside and let her in. Interesting. She doesn’t know that it was Kassius waiting inside the boardroom for me and not Atticus. What game is he playing?
“Umm, yeah. What exactly goes on in the aft with the guests?” I change the subject.
“We don’t talk about it, and we don’t ask questions,” she says. “Basically, it’s rich people stuff.”
I shrug, unsure if that answers my question, but it’s clear that she isn’t going to give me any more details.
“Atticus wants to meet all staff in the same boardroom in one hour. I’ll meet you there. Don’t be late,” she informs as she heads back out the door.
I nod and close the door. I unpack the essentials I need and take a quick shower to try to wash away today’s humiliation and shame. As much as I despise the situation, I need to focus on surviving it. I can’t afford to let my emotions take control. I’ve survived worst.
Stepping out of the shower, I dry off and put on a fresh set of joggers, applying some light makeup to mask the bruises that have started to heal. I don’t want Atticus or anyone else to know that I’ve been physically abused. It’s important that I maintain my composure and play the part of a happy, confident staff member. I can’t let Kassius’ earlier actions deter me.
Once ready, I head to the boardroom. Atticus goes over the itinerary for the next week and issues out the new uniforms—a white button down and slacks for more formal assignments and a navy polo shirt and khakis for the more informal assignments. Both shirts have our names embroidered on them. Surprisingly he gets my size right. He talks about the ship and what we can and can’t do as staff. We are not to interact with the guests, not even to ask for a tip. We are there to ensure their experience is smooth and problem-free.
A pregnant pause consumes the room as the bane of my existence enters the room. The gentle rocking of the vessel adds a subtle rhythm to the air as fellow staff members eagerly gather, exchanging hushed whispers about the much-anticipated return to work. The atmosphere is charged with a mixture of excitement and professionalism.
Kassius strides further into the room with purpose. Each step he takes resonates with confidence, echoing against the polished wood beneath his expensive shoes. The subtle fragrance of a high-end cologne wafts through the room, leaving a trace of sophistication in his wake. Blue eyes, sharp and penetrating, scan the room with an astute awareness. His gaze is both discerning and inviting, making each employee feel seen and valued. A different man stands before us—different from the monster who I met with earlier and back in New York. The boardroom, momentarily frozen in anticipation, begins to pulse with energy as he moves forward.
A square jawline, chiseled and firm, accentuates his features, adding a touch of rugged masculinity to his overall appearance. His jaw, framed by a day’s worth of carefully groomed stubble, gives him an air of effortless sophistication. As he approaches the conference table, he casts a commanding presence, leaving no doubt that he is a leader who knows how to take charge. His attire is a testament to his refined taste and attention to detail—so far removed from the poor kid I picked on in high school. Dressed in a tailored navy suit that complements his striking blue eyes, he exudes an air of authority. The crisp white shirt beneath his suit jacket adds a touch of formality, while a silk tie, perfectly knotted, completes the ensemble with a subtle hint of opulence. Each element of his attire is meticulously chosen, reflecting a commitment to excellence that extends beyond the boardroom. His muscular physique beneath the well-fitted suit is evident as he extends a welcoming hand to the first employee he encounters. The handshake is firm, conveying strength and confidence. His physicality, combined with his polished appearance, creates a powerful and captivating aura that lingers in the room. The hatred I harbor for him is monumental, but shamefully it doesn’t prevent me from an astute observation of his improved appearance from our youth.
