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I rub my jaw and fail to stifle the smile as I read.
There’s a short article in the Morgantown Review showing Chastity winning a baking contest in her high school. That means she wasn’t lying about her cake decoration adventures. She doesn’t drink and always orders the club soda just like mine when she does go out with her co-workers. How George comes up with all the info he does I’m not sure, but I trust it to be fact and relief is beginning to soothe the painful tension I’ve had since I left her apartment that night.
She has shown a knack here at Westwood for marketing and packaging products, as well as branding to appeal to the younger audiences.
She's trying hard to fit in and no one has anything but positive things to say about her.
I spread my fingers over the photos in the second manila envelope. Chastity’s outfit choices, stylish for the most part, but with a girly innocence woven throughout, just like when I met her at the club.
George also provided proof that Chastity is the creative lead behind some of the latest ideas Westwood has presented to clients assigned to her team.
Only, there’s no official record that she’s received credit for any of them. Her day consists of working on insignificant tasks, while her team takes official credit.
That’s fucking bullshit.
By the time I’ve finished flipping through the report it’s obvious that my fucking distrust of people has gotten the best of me when it comes to her.
I truly am a dick.
There is no sign she’s on anyone’s payroll. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from George. It’s illegal, but he accessed her bank records as well. Her computer at work and her laptop at home. He found nothing that would resemble a payoff or instructions on how to find me, where I would be that night...my likes and dislikes. Nothing. I realize with a sickening feeling that my own paranoia was the culprit fueled by all the betrayals I’ve been dealing with in the rest of my life. My pulse quickens with the sudden rush of guilt and anger at myself.
My girl deserves better. Better than me, and certainly better than this fucking job. I use the term job loosely, because I know interns don’t get a paycheck per say. A small per diem, not enough to pay for one lunch in this city.
Protectiveness surges through me. I want to go down there and personally throw every single member of her team out of my damned building.
My girl deserves to shine.
George might not have had enough time to come up with a full detailed history of her entire background yet, but he’s been thorough about his findings so far. Attached is a photo of the culprit behind all of Chastity’s ideas getting stolen: Sasha May. Senior account executive in charge of several of Westwood’s top clients.
I recognize the blonde. She’s the one who pulled Chastity away from me at the bar.
“Will there be anything else today, Mr. Carter?”
I glance at George and shake my head. “This is good work. I’ll have a bonus transferred into your account.”
He nods in gratitude as he turns and exits the room, leaving me alone with the implications of his report.
My gaze is hard as I stand up and walk back to the wall of screens. Chastity is pretending to work at her desk; her delicious lips are parted, her chin resting on her hand, clearly asleep. A sparkle of drool on her bottom lip.
I snort on a low chuckle.
“My precious girl needs a nap.”
My fingers trail over her parted lips.
Now I can do what I was meant to do, what I was born to do. Claim Chastity as my own. Bind her to me.
But before I can do that, I have to get my house in order. I have to fucking apologize to Alice first of all. I didn’t fire her, but I was shitty to her that night after I left Chastity’s apartment and again yesterday when she made my breakfast. I didn’t want to tip her off just in case, but I was a dick and there will be a bouquet of flowers and a nice bonus envelope in her future.
I’ll get to the bottom of this other harassment bullshit in time. Right now, I smile at the napping Chastity as her head bobs sideways. She jolts it upright but her eyes stay closed. A smile curves my lips.
It’s time to wake up, my sweet little one. Daddy’s home...
I pick up the phone and call the head of security here in the building.
“How can I help you?” Jeffrey’s voice is cultured and obedient at the other end of the line.
I suck in a deep breath as I stare at my girl napping. The next time she’s asleep, she’ll be in my bed. I’ll have ripped off the pink tiered skirt and fuzzy sweater she’s wearing, and I’ll have pushed my face between her thick thighs. I lick my lips, anticipating the succulent juice of her pussy coating my lips and beard.
