AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But what if he really wants something longer? Something different?
Looking at the middle of the ceiling, at the light fixture I’m sure houses the camera, I shake my head as my anger builds. I absolutely will not give him any more time than the contract calls for. The man is a master manipulator. He lied to me from the start of our first meeting outside the garden of his office building. He pretended not to know exactly who I was, merely inquired if I was his late appointment.
And the job! Tension roars in my head as I realize the interview request was a giant ruse. He intended only one position for me from the start—on my back, pussy exposed and my legs tied off.
Rolling from the bed, I go into the bathroom and start the shower. Letting the water heat, I strip the outfit away, nose crinkling at the thought of how to wash such a thing. Stepping beneath the blast of hot water, I roll my shoulders and wonder if I truly am without clothes beyond what I arrived in and that ridiculous mini-dress or the harness. I haven’t opened the closet door or dresser drawers to find out.
Lifting my right leg, I roll the ankle in a circle. Always a quick healer, the joint is stiff but nothing more. The ice in the limo and at home seems to have done the trick despite a day of high heels. Putting my foot down, I turn and tilt my head back, letting the hot water beat against my face.
Blindly, I reach for the soap and begin to lather my skin.
Griffin
Pacing in my office,I stop each time I pass my desk to check the estate’s cameras. Katelyn isn’t exactly missing, but she’s not where she’s supposed to be and she’s late.
Despite telling her to stay in the house unless I’ve given her specific permission to walk the grounds, she has put on the running shoes and tracksuit I left in the closet for her. Both were meant for the treadmill in the home gym, not for the running trail around the estate where paparazzi might snap a shot with their long-range lenses.
Her picture winding up in the tabloids associated with my name isn’t my present concern. I am worried over how long it is taking Katelyn to complete a third circuit around the property. Even if she has significantly slowed her pace, she should have completed it already. And that part of the estate doesn’t have security cameras because there is nothing but a fence and woods and the trail that runs between the two.
My chest tightens at the thought that she might have diverged from the trail. Between the estate and a nature preserve owned by one of my foundations, there are over a hundred acres of pine to get lost in. It doesn’t seem like a lot—until you’ve been wandering around for hours and the sun is going down.
“Damn it!” Growling, I pocket my phone and jog to the garage. Impatiently waving Philip out of the way and dodging him when he is too slow, I mount one of the quad runners, check its fuel level and pull out of the garage.
Tearing up the manicured lawn, I drive the ATV straight to where the trail runs next to the guesthouse. I follow the path all the way to its most distant section, my heart clanging in my chest.
Rounding the last turn, nauseous dread makes me light headed as I spot Katelyn sitting in the middle of the path, her head buried in her hands. She looks up at my approach. Blood streaks her palm.
Let it be just her hand, I pray. It’s a foolish hope. She isn’t the type to sit helplessly for a good twenty minutes because of a cut on her hand.
I stop the vehicle a few feet from her, jump off and ignore her attempt to motion me away.
“I’m okay—”
“The fuck you are.” I drop to one knee next to her and gently pull her bloody hand to me for inspection.
“It’s my head,” she whispers, refusing to look at me.
“What happened?” I bark.
Wincing, she jerks her hand free and throws her arms around her legs. She rests her stubborn chin on her knee, her expression turning to stone.
She doesn’t need or deserve me raising my voice. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart and quell the extra adrenaline that rushed through me upon finding her injured. I give Katelyn a few seconds to recover her composure while I carefully explore the left side of her head.
There is a thin gash and a raised bump where the congealing blood is at its thickest.
I caress her cheek, my throat straining to control the volume of my next command.
“Answer me, Katelyn. What happened?”
Remaining mute, she scuffs her left shoe inward, kicking up some dust and dirt that lands on her other shoe. I glance down and immediately see the problem’s source. The famous “Iron Kate” has pushed herself too hard. The right ankle looks to have given out, causing her to fall where the trail runs right against the fencing. There is swelling around the joint that will only get worse if I don’t get ice on it soon.
I look at the post a foot from her. Extending an arm, I brush my hand against a dark, wet stain on the wood to find more of her blood.
“Did you lose consciousness?” My throat constricts on the last word, my alarm growing.
She is slow to answer, her voice barely a whisper. “No.’
All but certain she won’t tell me if she did, I place a fingertip under her chin and press lightly until she lifts her head and meets my gaze. I still don’t know whether she’s lying, but I am relieved to find that her pupils are equal in size.
