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Only able to make out his profile, I can see enough to tell that his flawless suit and body are paired well with his impeccable face. He has a strong brow, chiseled jawline, and a sandy cropped beard. I’m staring at him as he turns his head toward me, and my blood practically boils in my cheeks under his gaze. I quickly turn my head, facing the ocean as he walks toward the office.
Once he’s entered the room, it’s as if everything in it shrinks, including me. After closing the door behind him, he strips off his jacket, hanging it on the tall oak rack. My mouth goes dry as my eyes cascade down his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back through the taut fabric of his shirt.
“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 shouldnotbe 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’syourmoney, 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?”
