Promiscuous Lies (Vengeful Lies #2)

12. Posie

CHAPTER 12

Posie

I ’m dreading going to work today because I might see him. I find this funny because I went months without even running into him, and now I can’t seem to escape him. I don’t know if there is another reason why he’s been around more often recently, but I wish it would go back to normal.

Whatever normal is?

I’m actually on time for once, and when Paula sees me, she looks at her watch in shock but then smiles. She follows me into the back room, where I start to get changed.

“You have a present,” Paula says, revealing a black bag. I immediately know from the emblem what store it came from, and I’m slightly confused as to why she’s giving this to me.

“Why am I getting this?” I ask, my brows pinching in wonder.

She begins to walk away but looks over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the boss himself.”

I pull a box out of the bag. Opening it, I tear away the tissue paper to find a set of hot-pink lingerie.

It’s beautiful.

Expensive.

But no gift comes without strings attached.

Especially from a man who is used to owning everything and everyone.

Turning to Samantha, I smile and hand her the box.

“I got the wrong size. Want it?” It’s a lie because it looks exactly like my size.

“Oh my gosh, are you sure? This is stunning!” she gushes, admiring it. She immediately tries it on. It’s stunning and sexy, and I’m grateful we’re the same size so someone can wear it. She’s not arguing with me about the fact. She knows we’re the same size, but she obviously loves the beautiful material.

“I’m wearing this tonight. I’ll look smoking in it. Thanks, girl!” I smile as she gets ready to go on stage. I remain seated and begin to touch up my makeup. I don’t think much of the gift because I don’t want to spiral into questioning what that gift is supposed to mean, if anything at all. All I know is any kind of gift or help from a man you’ve had sex with usually has strings attached. And I definitely think Dutton is the kind to have possessive entitlement issues.

I hear the crowd cheer as Samantha steps out onto the stage, and I smile. She does look pretty hot in that lingerie set. I comb out the tight curls I prepared my hair in, letting them hang loosely over my shoulder.

Just as I finish applying my mascara, the door opens and in walks Dutton. His gaze immediately finds me, and I pretend not to notice him as he stalks up beside me. “You give away all gifts like that?”

I try to ignore the fact that his cock is at my eye level as I look up at his face. Then he leans against the table, and I try my hardest to be unfazed by his proximity. “I assumed the gifts were for all the women in your employ. Turns out it was the wrong size for me anyway. It looks great on Samantha, though,” I say with a sweet smile as I turn back to the mirror. I carefully apply the last of my mascara and do my best not to squirm under the cold calculation of his gaze.

I will not crumble under this intimidation bullshit. However, if I were a wiser woman, I’d do as advised. Unfortunately, obedience isn’t a strength of mine.

“Was there something else I can help you with?” I stand and undo my dressing gown, revealing my green lingerie, which he clearly thinks is not good enough for him. “Boss?”

His jaw clenches so hard, I think he might blow a vein from how irritated he looks about things not going his way—such a spoiled man, used to getting everything he wants.

I daringly reach for his chin and tilt it up. “This is very unprofessional,” I remind him.

“My office. Now,” he growls, stepping out of reach as he turns and strides to his office. I make no move to follow him. When he notices, he looks back at me. “I said now .”

“Not happening. I mean, unless you’re firing me.” I arch an eyebrow at him.

“No, I’m going to fuck you into submission,” he states.

I laugh at that. Definitely not someone who can stand being told no. I’m just grateful all the other girls are out working on the main floor right now, so no one can hear him.

“Yeah, I’m going with a no. I don’t jump just because a spoiled rich kid tells me to. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some money.” I grab my heels and slide them on my feet. I can feel his stare raking down my body, so I make sure to bend over just a little bit farther. It’s not like he hasn’t already seen what’s between my legs.

I’m intentionally teasing him because my boss needs to learn a lesson that although he thinks he’s in charge of me, he’s not.

I sigh at the purple mark on my inner thigh and reach for the makeup sponge and concealer to try and cover it.

“You know, it’s against policy to have marks,” he adds with his eyes on my leg.

“Yeah, some dickhead gave it to me, but you won’t have to worry about it happening again because it was a one-time thing. Although, he was good at giving head,” I say, as I tap a finger on my chin. “I have bills to pay, so I’m gonna get to work.” I saunter past him but am very aware the moment his footsteps sound behind me.

Does this fucker have nothing better to do than antagonize me?

Is he that unfamiliar with the word “no” that he gives chase because it’s like a fucking phenomenon to him?

I try my best to ignore him as I sweep a gaze around the room and approach my first customer, who is smiling as he stares at my legs. Before I can say anything, Dutton’s hot breath is over my shoulder as he says to the customer, “Touch her, and I’ll kill you.”

The man goes pale, and I can’t help but gape as I swing around to face Dutton. He’s staring down at me with those cold blue eyes. There’s no fucking soul in there, I swear, because the moment he wants complete obedience, he turns into this asshole.

My fingers curl into my palms as I try to ignore him and approach the next man, but no words are exchanged because he sees my looming shadow. Is this fucker going to follow me around to make sure I can’t make any money all night just to make a point that he has the power to do so? For what? Disobeying him?

“You’re being a petty fuck,” I grit out over my shoulder. He doesn’t reply; he just continues following me. When I’m at my breaking point—it only takes a few minutes to get there—I spot his friends from the other night, the twins, who seem to be enjoying the show. Well, mostly the muscular twin, as he stares in awe as Samantha dances.

So I go to step in their direction. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Dutton growls.

I smile, flicking my hair over my shoulder as I now have a pep in my step. “And has you telling me what to do worked out for you so far?” I whisper under my breath.

“Hello, boys, are you enjo—” Before I can finish the sentence, I’m thrown over Dutton’s shoulder. He carries me to the back as I try my hardest to wriggle free. The twins stare at us, eyebrows raised and mouths agape.

“Let me down, asshole!” I push at his face. It’s not until we’re in his office and he kicks the door closed that he lets me down. The moment he does, I go to slap him. But he quickly catches my wrist.

“I’d be careful if I were you. It might worsen your punishment as I spank the brat out of you.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I yank my wrist out of his grip. “Do you know how much money you’ve cost me tonight? All to prove a point?!” I’m getting angrier by the second. At this point, I don’t even fucking care if I keep this job.

He circles me as I lose my fucking mind, which makes me even more furious because the pompous prick is still acting like he’s in control. “You’re just so fucking used to people being at your beck and call, and that isn’t me! I fucking refuse.”

The slightest hint of his smirk snaps my final thread of sanity. He’s pushing me on purpose. He wants crazy? I’ll give him crazy. That way, he might stay the fuck away from me.

“This might be some novelty for you, but I need this money!” I grab the stapler off his desk. “I wouldn’t be working in this shithole, trying to sell my fucking body otherwise.” I throw the stapler at his head, and he dodges it. It puts a hole in the door instead. That smirk never leaves his expression. This fucking asshole!

“Fuck one of the other girls for all I care,” I shout as I grab the keyboard and throw it at him. This time, he has to raise his hand to block it. It falls to the ground at his feet. I’m so fucking mad I can’t even handle it. This man is too easily pushing my buttons, and I’m detonating.

“And you’re just fucking smiling like a dickhead!” I yell as I throw a stack of pens, then a glass half full of whiskey. He dodges those as well, and his smile only grows wider. I pick up the scissors. “You won’t be smiling if I carve up that pretty face of yours, will you?”

I raise the scissors, my heart beating erratically. He catches my wrist again, but it’s not like when I went to slap him. This time, the mood in the room immediately shifts. His smirk remains, but his gaze is penetrating and outright predatory.

A shiver runs down my spine as I realize I crossed a line. “Have you ever cut someone open before?” His voice is chilling, unlike the perfect mask he presents to the world. No, this is violent and unhinged, and I’m terrified to realize it runs deeper than I could’ve ever imagined. “It’s easy, really,” he says emotionlessly as he admires the scissors. “But not with a blunt blade like this. No, you want something sharper to really carve out a message.”

He plucks the scissors out of my hand. I yank my wrist free, surprised that he lets me. And it’s like in the blink of an eye, whatever dark corrosion I just touched disappears, and the pretty boy is back in the room.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” I whisper.

He seems to consider that. “I don’t think so. Besides, my sexual partner inflicting cuts on me isn’t my thing. It might be my cousin’s, but contrary to belief, I only enjoy carving messages onto other people,” he says lazily as he circles me and then leans against his desk.

My mouth opens and then closes, and I’m not sure if he’s saying all this to strike fear into me or if he’s serious. Probably both.

I still do my best to hide the unsettling fear swarming in my gut. I feel exposed in my lingerie when I usually use it as a weapon. But this part of Dutton I just saw isn’t human. I wonder how many people see beneath his mask and, if they do, if it’s too late. I do my best to keep my body from trembling as all the buzzing adrenaline saps out of me. The office is a fucking mess from everything I threw at him.

And here I was, judging his mask for slipping.

This asshole knows how to wind me up.

“I told you the other night was a one-off. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get attached.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Or display such a lack of professionalism.”

He sighs, exasperated. “I never thought you’d be the type who needed to be wined and dined.”

“Excuse me?” I demand.

“Go on a date with me so we can get to know one another better.”

My face scrunches up in disbelief. This fucker undoubtedly isn’t used to being shot down by a woman. “No. And if you ask again, I’ll throw this thick book at your fucking face,” I say, grabbing the closest book off his shelf. I hide my intrigue at the heavy tome of bondage instructions. I raise it as if to throw it at him.

“One date, and I’ll provide you with a different job.”

I scoff. “What, as your sex bunny or something? Hard pass.”

He smirks. “Oh, you’ll do that for free. I will never pay you to have sex with me.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you!” I remind him.

He kicks up an arrogant smile. “Sure you don’t. You could work behind the bar.”

“I suck at pouring drinks!” I yell because all I want to do is wring this unreasonable fucker’s neck. This man is as insufferable as I pegged him from the moment I met him. I had a fucking lapse in judgment in the back seat of his car, and now I’m paying for it.

This asshole thinks he can throw around money and own people. I’d come to terms with working for him, but I won’t let him own me.

“You can work in my office, and I’ll pay you double what you make on the floor.”

I hesitate to throw the book. I want to because, again, the dickhead thinks he can buy me out. But I start doing quick math in my head as to how much I could earn, how it could set Bentley and me up if I could bear with it for even six months. Dancing wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing, but if I agree, it’d be working closely with the devil himself.

“Why are you doing this? Is it because I told you no? No offense, fucker, but I don’t know if you’ll stick to your word considering how crazy you’re acting right now.”

He arches a perfect eyebrow. “I’m the one being labeled crazy right now?” He scans the room with his gaze, then gives a pointed look to the book I’m holding in the air, ready to throw at him.

Okay.

Good point.

I lower the book.

“One thing you can trust me on is my word. Always. Despite how much you think of me as an asshole, I’ll never jeopardize your safety or force myself on you. This is a legitimate deal.”

I roll my eyes. “But I have to go on a date with you?” That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Has this man ever actually been on a date before? I imagine he gets the luxury of skipping even the name exchange before women are on their backs for him.

“A date doesn’t equate to sex. But preferably, will end with it.”

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I reiterate. “Why are you offering this? It’s unprofessional.”

I don’t understand Dutton Taylor. There is no rhyme or reason to him, and that sharp intellect is always running some type of scheme in the background. What could he ever want from me to make him go so far?

“Because I have an issue with other men touching you. It would appear I don’t think rationally when you’re on the floor, and I find it awfully distracting. I don’t want it to jeopardize my business if I accidentally kill one of my clients, so this seems like the most practical approach.” His words are straightforward, his tone emotionless.

I’m shocked by his honesty, and all I can say to derail the intensity of that possessive statement is, “They don’t touch me; I touch them.”

His face glazes over with a lustful expression. “Hmm. I suppose you did touch me when you gave me that private dance, and I don’t usually let that happen. But I touched you more that night in the back seat of my car,” he says, pushing off the edge of the desk and stepping closer. “And I want to touch you again. You might be used to being in control out there with your clients, but I promise you, you’re very much out of your depth if you think you can control me and my desires.”

His intense aura is stifling, but I refuse to look away as he picks up a piece of my curled hair. This guy is giving me whiplash between his possessive asshole and charismatic playboy personas.

“You don’t fuck those you work with,” I point out as I slowly push away his hand.

“I don’t fuck the girls who dance,” he clarifies. “And you no longer dance.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying to consider my choices, but it all feels too rushed right now. And I still need to decide whether it’s worth the hassle of dealing with this asshole. Then again, earning double what I’m earning now is not an opportunity a single mother is given every day.

“If I agree, I want a sign-on bonus as well,” I demand defiantly.

His blue eyes darken as he looks down on me and takes another step forward. He encroaches into my space, and I inevitably take a step back. He barricades me against the door, and I feel his intensity dancing along my skin, creating a heat at my core that I wish I didn’t acknowledge. His body suffocates mine, and when he leans down, I can’t help but hold my breath.

I shouldn’t want this.

I should push him back.

But my body wants to pull him in. This fucker has a magnetism that I’ve never known or dealt with before. And I want to defy it with all my might so that he doesn’t think he’s won.

His lips brush my cheek as he says, “What’s your price?”

My heart is pounding as his lips linger against my cheek and then move to my jaw. I try not to move, not trusting my body in its heated desire.

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Ten thousand?”

“Is that a question?” he says, lifting up a piece of my hair again. His nose grazes against my neck as if he’s smelling me, and I can’t help but lean into him. Fuck . If he pushes any further right now, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to say no.

“Did I hear twenty thousand?” I say.

He chuckles as he steps away from me. I lick my lips as I glance down quickly, realizing his cock is straining against his pants.

“Done.” He nods once as he rounds his desk and gets money from his top drawer. He rejoins me at the door and offers me what looks like a few thousand dollars—certainly not ten or twenty thousand.

“This is payment to cover tonight since I cost you your earnings. Once you figure out your job description, the bonus will come through with a new contract. I do have one condition. When I message you, I expect a reply.”

I’m gob smacked. “You don’t care what job I do?”

“No. I just want a date and to get you off the floor.”

I’m so confused by the situation that I don’t know where to start, but I know better than to shoot myself in the foot. It might be crazy, and my boss is certainly unhinged, but I can’t say no to that type of money.

I offer him my hand. He looks at it, confused, but then takes it, and we shake on the deal. “I’d like to say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but we both know that’s a lie. I still hate your guts.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up, those blue eyes seemingly staring into my soul. “I look forward to our date, Posie.”

I release his hand and swallow. I feel like I’ve just made a deal with the devil. I turn and go to open the door, holding up the book. “I’ll be keeping this as well.”

As I open the door, I pale when I see the twins leaning against the wall with their hands in their pockets. They look me up and down, and Dutton’s voice growls over my shoulder. “Inside, you two.”

The bulkier one chuckles as he dips his head in greeting. The other one seems to be assessing me as if I’m some kind of threat.

How long were they standing there?

Were they listening?

I don’t give a fuck.

I head to the back to collect my things to go home. I need to figure out if I’ve just done the right thing or if I’ve signed my life away to a psychopath.