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Drawing my hand back, I crack it hard against her ass. If I have to use childish discipline to get through to her, I will. I whack her again, even harder this time, and the loud crack echoes around the office and bounces off the walls. Her defiant scream of protest is every bit as loud.
I hold her still and wait. Is she going to accept her punishment, apologise, and do as she’s told?
Clearly not. She pushes up against my hand, using her whole body weight, and kicks out at me, probably aiming for my nuts once again but missing me completely by miles. I do have to admire her tenacity. Lesser women than she would have ceded to my authority by now.
“No, little girl, this is not how it works,” I growl, landing three fast, hard slaps to the back of her thigh, one on top of the other to intensify the pain.
“Richard! Make him stop!”
It’s obvious she’s hurting—her voice is filled with pain. But not just pain, there’s something else there, too. Desperation? There’s a definite pleading tone in her cry.
It’s interesting how she calls out to Richard to save her, rather than asking me for mercy directly. Ideally, I want her to accept my authority, but that’s probably asking a bit much, a bit too soon. So I smack her again, an upwards swing with the full weight of my arm behind my hand, catching her low on the underside of both buttocks, the force of it jolting her forward, shifting her face further into the newspapers on the desk. They should serve as a reminder of why she’s in this humiliating position, getting her butt spanked. But they don’t seem to.
“Owww!” she yells, twisting against me. I tighten my grip on the back of her neck. “Ow! Let me up, you brute! Fuck you!”
That does it. In just those few words, this has gone from a warning to behave to a full-on punishment. She needs to learn, right now, that language like that, especially directed at me, will not be tolerated. I need to show her that I mean business. I land two viciously hard punishment-strength smacks right across the fullest part of her backside and she puts her head down, hiding her face, and whimpers.
Across the desk, Richard stands up. I can’t read his expression. He’s not angry, per se, but he’s obviously not happy about the turn of events. More than anything, I think he looks sad. He holds up his hand. “That’s enough.”
I don’t think it is—I don’t think it’s anywhere near enough—but out of respect for the man paying my salary, I immediately let go of his spoilt brat of a charge and step back. The second I do, she turns to run.
“Jade!” Richard’s voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it before, and it brings her up short. “Sit down.”
“But…”
“Sit,” I growl. With a bit of luck, she’ll be too scared to disobey.
The wince on her face is unmistakeable as she slowly lowers herself in the chair, her arms taut on the armrests, taking much of her weight.
“Good, you’re learning.” I know she wants to turn around and slap my smirk off my face. It’s written all over her body language. But, sensibly, she doesn’t. Instead, she ignores me completely and fiddles with the corner of one of the bits of newspaper hanging over the edge of the desk.
Across the desk, Richard sighs. “Your father has spoiled you, girl. We both did.”
Jade doesn’t respond, but a flicker of acknowledgement passes quickly across her face. Obviously, she’s not under any delusions there. That’s one good thing, at least. People who can’t see that they’re spoiled are the hardest to train.
“And that was a mistake.” Richard sounds even sadder now than he did when he first hired me, and he sounded plenty sad then.
“You’ve got no discipline. No structure. No job.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for Jade to argue, but she doesn’t. “Starting today, that changes.” He pauses again, but she still doesn’t object.Hmmm. Maybe I spanked her harder than I thought. Either that or her attitude is far easier to adjust than I was expecting it to be.
“Letting you have access to your earnings at such a young age was a mistake,” Richard continues. “You blew all your own money long ago, Jade. Now you’re spending your father’s. It’s about time you learned to stand on your own two feet. Jaxon will help you.”
“Fine,” she snaps. “Can I go now? Places to go, people to see and all that.” She waves her hand airily and gets to her feet, trying hard to give the impression that she’s got far more important things to be doing and really doesn’t care about Richard’s orders. But I can see her trembling. It’s only her pride that is holding her together right now. She cares, all right. Even if she is doing her best to hide it.
But Richard shakes his head. “No, Jade, you may not go. I don’t think you heard me when I said you’re flying out to New Zealand this afternoon. You don’t have time to go anywhere or do anything or see anyone.”
Her horrified gasp is audible. She’s clearly not used to Richard enforcing his authority. “No. I’m not…”
“Yes.” Richard interrupts her. “You’re under your father’s financial care, so you’re subject to his conditions. Those conditions are Jaxon, and New Zealand.”
I don’t hear it, but I see her throat move when she gulps. I’m assuming she’s not used to her father being so determined. She should be, though. It’s not like he got to be this successful by being a total pushover. He’s obviously decisive and stubborn when he wants to be. It’s a crying shame he wasn’t more decisive with Jade when she was younger. If he had been, maybe Iwouldn’t be standing here awkwardly now, behind the stunning, infuriating girl whose ass I just smacked. The ass my palm is itching to smack again.
“I’ll leave his care then,” Jade whispers furiously, her voice cracking. “I’ll get a job!”
Across the desk, Richard smiles. “That’s what we hope for you, my love. But that’s not going to happen here, is it? Right now, nobody in Hollywood will touch you. You got fired from the last three sets you were on. You’ve got no work ethic, you do too many drugs, drink too much alcohol. Jaxon is going to stop all that.”
I’m going to give it my best shot,I think wryly.But I absolutely am not making any guarantees. I might know how to handle brats, but Jade Owens is a brat of the highest order, and that’s being generous.
“I’m not addicted,” Jade insists quietly, and I stifle my scoff. She may not be addicted to cocaine—or even alcohol, for that matter—but she’s clearly addicted to something. Drama, maybe? Attention?
