Aspen

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

ASPEN

M y eyes bounced between the clock and Lucian’s mouth. I zoned out the last of the interview, having already dismissed the woman across from us for the position, and stole glances to study each curve and dip of his lips as they formed around the words.

Despite the lingering embarrassment of him finding me at my weakest, I couldn’t stop thinking of those few moments when everything calmed. The tension shifted to something different—something soothing.

And then sexual.

I couldn’t stop wondering what would have happened if his phone never went off.

Would we have kissed?

What would his lips have tasted like?

Would his kiss be as demanding as his words?

Would they be as arrogant and condescending?

Each question sent jolts to my core, leaving me confused about what version of myself liked the idea of experiencing a kiss like that—leaving me shocked that that version existed.

Lucian Daire wasn’t just fucking with my life and business anymore—he was fucking with my mind too.

I ground my jaw and forced myself to look away, focusing my attention on the woman in a lime green pantsuit with clashing copper hair. She suggested gothic-country-jazz as the next big thing and that we invest half our profits into pushing it on the scene.

I hated her.

I hated that she even made it to the interview process. I hated sitting there pretending like anything she said after her initial statement mattered. I hated that we had to have the stupid interviews to begin with.

All because of Lucian.

I hated him too.

I hated him the most.

Each interview over the past week pushed my ire higher and higher. Sitting next to him, waiting for him to bring up what happened, only to be faced with more verbal warfare every chance we got.

At least this was the last interview of the day, and then I could escape.

I eyed the clock. Six-fifty-two. Fifty-two excruciating minutes on a Friday night for one asinine interview.

“Thank you, Miss Quinn and Mr. Daire.” Darlene stood and held out her hand. I shook it with more exuberance than necessary, elated for it to be over.

Lucian walked her to the door and shut it behind her.

“Do you even care?” he asked, dropping all politeness as he sneered at me.

I stood and fully faced him. “Excuse me?”

“Do. You. Even. Care?” he repeated, slowly prowling across the room. “You sat there checked out for the last thirty minutes. Completely unprofessional.”

“Oh, please. She was a waste of our time, and you know it as well as I do.”

“It doesn’t matter. She came and expected our attention for the full interview. It’s courtesy to not waste her time.”

“But you can waste mine?” I turned the tables. “It’s seven-o’clock on a Friday night because you couldn’t be here until this evening. I offered to do the interview alone, but noooo…”

“I had a business meeting. You’re not the only company that requires my attention.”

We closed the gap between us with each back and forth. “See, that’s the thing. We don’t need your attention. We don’t need you at all.”

“And yet, here I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He stretched his arms wide, presenting himself like a gift. “Despite your knowledge of the business and company, we are doing this together. So, you waited for my availability.”

“Exactly. My knowledge of the business. My knowledge of the company. Not yours—some condescending asshole who thinks just because he can buy companies as he pleases that he knows who’s the best for us,” I snapped, my voice increasing with each statement. “ I’m the one who is sitting here trying to find a person for the job that is supposed to be mine. And as soon as that woman showed how useless she was, I let the less knowledgeable interviewer take the reins.”

He narrowed his eyes, watching me close the distance with caution.

Good.

He should be cautious.

I stepped like a wild lion closing in on its prey—ready to attack and unleash the pent-up tension.

“How dare you ask if I care when I’m the one analyzing every detail so we can make the best choice for a company I want more than anything but might not even have. And I get to do it while being talked to like I’m a fucking idiot,” I shouted.

“I don’t talk to you like you’re an idiot,” he objected.

“Of course you do,” I shrieked, the grip around my control slipping. “ Princess. The boss’s daughter. Daddy’s spoiled little girl. Or how about when you act so surprised when you find out how fucking awesome I am at this job?”

“Aspen—” His face softened. His calm tone was in complete contrast to mine, which was edged with a looming emotional outburst. As if my manic shouting was the reminder he needed of how he found me before. As if it provided him the opening he needed to bring up the last time I lost my shit.

“No,” I yelled, not wanting to give him a chance to talk.

I turned away and faced his desk, hating that this was the second time this man caught me racing toward the fine line of my control in less than a couple of weeks. After I’d spent my whole life hiding it from everyone. With a manic edge to my laugh, I dropped my hands on his desk and hung my head, needing a moment to hide behind the curtain of my hair to collect myself.

Focus, Aspen. Deep breaths.

Interview after interview replayed through my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t get away from.

Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, fo ? —

My lungs worked overtime, as if I was physically working to evade the memories and running out of steam.

Focus on breathing through it. Focus on con ? —

I tried. I tried to follow the counting, but each interrupted exhale was ruined by my increasingly panicked hiccupping. The pressure surrounding me got tighter and tighter until I wanted to scream.

Keep it under control. Just until you can walk out with your head held high.

It didn’t matter. Even if I walked with pride, he’d see me as nothing. None of it mattered. No matter how hard I worked. Nothing mattered. The chaotic swirl of panic snapped, slipping through a crack before I could stop it.

“What if whoever I hire runs the company into the ground? What if I don’t even get the chance to buy the majority shares?” The crack cleaved open further, spewing more doubts, fears, and frustrations instead of holding it down where it belonged. “What if I earn those shares, but there’s no company to buy? What if you?—”

I bit the words off, unwilling to admit how much his threat to rename the company weighed on me. I dug my fingers into the wood until the tips of my fingers turned white.

Control it, Aspen. Control. You’re in control.

But I wasn’t. I leaned over Lucian’s desk, gasping for air between rants of my biggest insecurities. When was the last time I had this many attacks so close together? The continued onslaught of becoming a slave to my emotions wore me down, and I struggled to rein it back in.

What if I couldn’t?

Maybe I wasn’t what this company needed. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe I deserved to lose it all. “God,” I gasped. “What if I lose it all?” Gasp. “What if I?—”

Smack.

The sound reached my ears before the sharp sting against my ass resonated in my brain. Before I could react, a large warm body wrapped around me as two hands shackled my wrists, moving them further across the desk, leaving me to fall forward against the hardwood.

“Trust me,” Lucian whispered—ordered. He held me there as if waiting for me to wriggle out from under him, but shock held me steady. Trying to process the prickling sting radiating along my skin like a quiet hum locked me in place.

I couldn’t move. My body utilized every brain cell to piece together the soothing heat surrounding my fraying nerves—holding them together—and the shackles pinning my hands, grounding me when I was seconds from being sucked away.

Then the warmth pulled back, and the hands let go of my wrists. Cold reality washed over me, a harsh and brutal contrast from seconds before. It yanked me back to the situation.

Me panicking.

Because I hated Lucian Daire.

Lucian Daire sneering insults at me.

Because he hated me too.

He wasn’t safe.

He was the reason I kept erupting.

He wasn’t someone to trust.

Ice. Cold. Reality.

My muscles clenched, preparing to bolt.

“Why the hell would I tru?—”

Smack. Smack.

Two more strikes—quicker, but just as sharp a sting as the last. Just as warm. Just as soothing.

What the fuck was going on?

I fought the dizzying wave coaxing me to hold still and moved to push myself up, but a large hand splayed across my back, pinning me to the desk.

My mind swirled, trying to keep up with the chaotic tornado of back and forth. Cold reality pulling me apart. Soothing warmth holding me together. The harsh truth of knowing I should fight Lucian. The blissful oblivion calling me into its promise of peaceful quiet.

Back and forth .

I was bent over a desk.

I shouldn’t be.

Back and forth.

A part of me waited for another strike to send tingling heat along my spine.

A part of me demanded I stand up and smack him in return.

Back and forth.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

I needed up. I needed to stay.

I needed out. I never wanted to leave.

I needed to be alone and let this pass. I needed him to continue.

I just needed to let this pass. I didn’t want it to stop.

Back and forth.

One thing remained the same on either side I landed. I still couldn’t control my breathing. The space between his hits left me reeling in my head. I still gasped, spun and spun and spun, trying to make it stop. Trying and failing again and again to find solid ground.

Why was I like this? Why was I like this? WhywasIlikethiswhywasIlikethis?

I couldn’t breathe.

Smack.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The collection of stings shot up my spine, halting my gasping breaths under the hand pinning me to the desk, applying more and more pressure against my chest. He held me there, constricting my lungs, controlling the speed of my gasping inhales.

“Breathe,” he ordered, lifting his hand, allowing my muscles to expand to their full capacity. The muscles stretched in relief after the intense pressure of the panic.

After another deep breath, he slowly increased the pressure before releasing again.

Smack. Smack.

The sharp sting of pain radiated around my hips.

I sucked in another deep breath and clenched my fists as if trying to hold on to the moment of air filling my lungs.

More smacks.

More pressure.

More breaths.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot what brought me there. I forgot where there was. I forgot about the back and forth. I forgot about everything except the sting, the pressure, and the breath.

I forgot everything except letting go.

“Good girl.” Lucian’s deep voice permeated the hazy calm. Logically, I knew I should’ve balked at the praise like I was a puppy.

But with my head pressed to the smooth wood of his desk, my breaths coming easier than they had all week, I couldn’t find it in me. In fact, it was like his praise was exactly what I’d been waiting for-for-for…I didn’t want to think about how long.

So long I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting.

My ass tingled and stung under his soothing hand. The cynical part of my mind waited for him to start inching up my skirt and cross a line.

My body shook with a silent laugh.

Cross the line?

We’d more than crossed the line and about seventy-six others.

The line didn’t exist anymore.

Despite the situation, he never pushed for anything sexual. Thank God because I didn’t know what I would say. The soft stroke of his palm enhanced the lingering sting, bringing my skin to life.

The blissful oblivion called, and I sank into it.

I breathed easier and stopped fighting the back and forth. I sank into the humming silence and turned my mind off. I stopped trying to piece it together and let it all go, becoming aware of everything else—every sensation—without thought.

How the burning heat extended from my ass to between my legs.

How my muscles melted into submission.

How the bite of pain created a pulse that connected a chain from my core to my pebbled nipples.

How wet my panties were.

“Feel better?” he asked. The gentle, deep tone sent a shiver down my spine to my core, making my pussy spasm with need.

I inhaled and bit my lip, too scared my words would give away the desperate, aching need growing inside me. Instead, I nodded against the desk.

He stroked up my back and then down one last time before stepping away. With shaking arms, I pressed myself off the desk and stood. I kept my gaze low, too fucking scared of what I’d find if I looked at him—too fucking scared of what I’d do.

“I should go,” I muttered. Not waiting for a response, I turned and packed my tote, grateful I’d planned to leave right after the interview. I needed to get out of that building and as far away from Lucian Daire as physically possible.

He’d softened something inside me, and I couldn’t bring myself to study it too closely. Despite my determination to ignore it, I still felt it. This mix of the walls closing in, increasing a building pressure and somehow lighter, as if someone took part of the weight I always carried around.

With my bag clutched tight, I eyed the exit. Just a handful of steps more.

I’d almost made it when I hesitated.

Knowing I’d regret it, but needing to see if his face matched the gentle calm of his tone, I turned, stealing a glance over my shoulder.

I was wrong. So, so wrong.

His eyes stood in complete contrast to his voice. They swirled with a raucous fire, burning with heavy-lidded desire. While he sounded relaxed, the dark depths hinted at barely contained restraint. He’d shown complete control over me, but his gaze sparked with wild chaos.

“You did amazing, Aspen.”

Again, more praise that I shouldn’t want or need, but somehow still soothed. The words reached across the space and held me close. “Thank you.”

The soft response shocked me back into action. Last week, I’d thrown his compliment back in his face, and now I practically swooned.

I didn’t know this version of myself.

All I did know was that I needed to get the hell out of there.

I could figure the rest out later.

Alone.

Away from this version of Lucian that called to a version of me I didn’t know existed.

Until him.