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L.A.'s upper echelons opened up a different world to me than I knew in Compton. In my neighborhood, street credibility came from guns or knives or fighting your way to the top of gangs. The differences in how Hugh's world worked were eye-opening yet also a hard transition. I had to learn to control my temper, not use violence, and be strategic in how I threatened others.
Most days, I have complete control over my actions. Then there are moments like these. There's a loss of all discipline, fueling a fear that I might totally snap and destroy everything I've built.
In these situations, I can barely control myself. I mix all the lessons I learned from Hugh about how to make people hurt with the ways of my past.
It's a dangerous headspace for me to dwell in, and getting out of my neurotic state as quickly as possible is vital. I know this about myself. I'm one wrong move away from ending up where most of the kids I grew up with reside.
Calling the piano store and getting this guy fired would be easy. It would keep me out of prison. But it's not enough.
Right now, I'm so unhinged from the lack of control I displayed earlier in the shower with Blakely and from watching this piece of shit have the balls to inappropriately check her out, and right in front of me, that I can't see straight.
Wayne's face morphs from red to purple. I sniff hard, reminding myself not to snap his neck off. I lean into his ear, snarling, "Do you always go into other men's houses and lust after what's theirs?"
He sputters some more, and saliva drips from the corners of his mouth.
I tug his head another inch, seething, "If you ever look at what's mine again, you're dead." I lower my voice, warning, "And let me assure you. She's mine."
"He won't," Sam vouches.
Still pissed, I shove my knee into Wayne's back, and something between a choking sound and yelp comes out of him. I glance at Sam, threatening, "If he goes near her, I'm coming after you too."
Horror fills Sam's expression.
I push Wayne into the truck harder, then step back, demanding, "Now, get off my property before I kill you." I stroll over to my Porsche and hop inside it. I make a note to call the piano store and get Wayne fired.
My car's already facing the road, and hence the front of the van. I always reverse into the driveway. Call it a habit from having to watch my back and speed away from trouble too often in my youth.
I watch Sam help Wayne into the vehicle. I rev the engine, and Sam hurries to the driver's seat, sliding in and slamming the door. He backs up onto the street and takes off.
I follow the van, then wait for the wooden gates to shut and secure Blakely from any unwelcome guests. I make my way to the office, unable to get her off my mind the entire ride.
Jesus, that outfit.
I need to give Isabella a bonus.
I picked it out of the wardrobe I brought home, thinking my pet would look sexy wearing it, but I underestimated her. The silk was so thin, I could see a hint of my palm mark on her ass. And the gold strip between her ass cheeks, knowing I was in there only a short while ago... Fuck!
And my pet isn't as naive as she wants me to believe. She wanted me to think all day about what it felt like to be inside her virgin hole. It only took one look at her during our discussion last night over the contract to know she'd never let anyone else go there. All that knowledge did was stroke my ego more.
Today, she could have worn the flip-flops, but she chose those stilettos to tease me. I know she did, and it worked. The way her ass popped just a bit higher made my dick instantly hard again.
I sit in traffic for over forty minutes at a standstill, finding the control to not stroke myself over all the images of what I plan on doing to her over the next year. When I start moving, it's as fast as a baby crawling, so it takes close to two hours to get to the office.
It's one of the curses of living in Malibu and having an L.A. office. I normally set off earlier in the morning, but I wasn't about to leave Blakely on her own with delivery men. Not that I think she'd do anything, but there are few men I trust. No one is getting near her without me present. Now that I saw how Wayne acted with me right next to her, I'm glad I made that decision. Who knows what the bastard would have tried if I wasn't there.
I pull into the parking garage, then briskly make my way through the building, still feeling tense. If I didn't have to close a big merger I've been working on all year, I'd normally go to Club Indulgence and take it out on a sub all day. Since I have my pet now, I would have stayed home and reminded her she's here to submit to me.
When I get to the top floor, my assistant Connie hands me a file and announces, "Cedcon arrived early. They're in the conference room."
I glance at my watch. It's thirty minutes before our meeting time. I snap, "Let them wait."
Connie arches her eyebrows.
Cedcon is a tech company Hugh thought I didn't stand a chance of convincing to sell. Today would normally put me in a good mood—and I never respond to Connie in that tone—but this is what happens when I'm off-kilter. I can't control the tiniest of things.
Regardless of her insulted look, I saunter past her and go into my office, shutting the door.
Tossing the file on my desk, I stand in front of the window, stare down at the L.A. chaos, and take some breaths, trying to calm myself. About ten minutes later, I'm able to glance at the folder.
