5. Chapter 5 – Tamen
Chapter 5 – Tamen
S he was late.
I warned her about her tardiness, but she was fifteen minutes late, anyway.
The bones in my neck cracked like twigs as I paced the plush carpet of my penthouse seating area, each footfall echoing in the otherwise silent space, the darkness inside me growing more intense with every passing moment. I couldn’t stand someone wasting my time, it felt like a physical brand with a hot iron to my skin.
But Sloane being tardy, burned somewhere else too. My dick twitched in my slacks as I prepared to have her in my space all alone. I knew she’d show up, eventually, but I also knew she was making me wait in a power play.
The woman was a Domme, in a lot of different ways. And she was proving it with each second of time spent making me wait.
As if my thoughts summoned her, the ding of the elevator in the foyer made me pause near the giant windows overlooking the city below.
Go time .
She was the only one on the approved list of guests to have free access to my suite, and as her heels clicked across the marble floor, bringing her closer to me, I schooled the monster in my chest aching to take over and regain the upper hand immediately.
When she cleared the wall and entered the open living space, she paused, looking around the expansive space before finally finding me against the windows. Somehow, she looked even sexier today than she did last night in lingerie and stilettos. I let my eyes travel up her body, starting at her feet wearing black motorcycle boots with gold buckles, up her long dancer legs in skintight black jeans. Then up to her torso covered in a dressy jacket, the color of blood that tied around her waist brushing her upper thighs. It left me wondering what she’d look like coming to my door in just that jacket and a pair of red bottom heels to match. Dammit, there came another one of those random erections she caused me. Her hair was down in soft waves that made it look like cotton candy around her flawless face and molten eyes as she eyed me cautiously.
“You’re late.” I greeted her.
She raised one eyebrow at me and laid her large purse down on a chair and undid her jacket, before sliding it off her shoulders. She wore a gold tank top that matched her eyes perfectly and hugged her lush tits and narrow waist like a second skin. “You’ll have to adjust your expectations when you give me instructions less than twelve hours before a meeting.”
“Interesting theory.” I walked away from the window and picked up my cup of coffee off the table to drink it, motioning for her to join me around the large surface covered in paperwork. “This is a list of employees currently receiving a paycheck from me in exchange for nothing.” I handed her a packet with everyone listed as I glanced at my watch. “Choose sixteen names off that list to fire, effective immediately.”
Her eyes snapped up to mine as her brows knitted in fury, the packet falling to the tabletop from her fingers like it burned her. “For what?”
“For every minute that you were late.” I walked back around the table and took a seat, sipping my coffee. “I told you that tardiness would not be tolerated, yet you chose to defy me. Face the consequences for it like an adult.” I nodded to the paper again and then held her angry stare. “Choose, or I will.”
“You’re evil.” She hissed. “I’m sorry for being late.”
“No, you’re not, you did it on purpose to challenge me.” I replied evenly before leaning forward on my elbows to finish, “And yes, I am evil. Something you’d do well to remember.”
“You’re punishing them for my choice.” She shook her head and swallowed, giving away how much stress the topic put on her. “That’s terrible leadership. And an awful start to a fresh beginning.”
Leaning back in my chair, I took another sip and set my cup down. “Then convince me to keep them and punish you instead. Should I fire you instead for your own transgression?”
She took a deep breath, making the fabric of her shimmering top hug her breasts even more, though I doubt that was her plan. “There isn’t anyone else on that list that can do this job as well as I can, and I think you know that already. But if you need to fire me to prove to yourself that you’re in charge, then that’s what you’re going to have to do. Because I won’t be responsible for sixteen people being unable to feed their families.”
I mulled that over, hating how quickly she offered to sacrifice herself for others. Didn’t she realize that, more than likely, no one else in that place would have done the same for her? Was it all a bluff, in hopes that I’d fold before she did?
Leaning across the table, I picked up a blue folder and opened it before tossing it right in front of her. “Right or left?”
Sloane squinted those molten eyes once more before giving in and looking down at the drawings laid out in the blue folder. She glanced back up at me and then leaned forward, resting her hands on the table as she looked more closely at the front sign renderings I had made. I needed to choose a design by the end of the day, and I was stuck.
She must have realized that it was her out of having to choose others to fire, and took a deep breath before replying. “Right.”
“Why?”
Shrugging, Sloane stood back up to her full height. “It’s more feminine and classy. The other one looks like a game show logo from the seventies.”
She wasn’t wrong, but the drawing on the left was bolder and more eye-catching, whereas the one on the right was softer and didn’t give away anything aside from the name.
The word “Prism,” written on what looked like a piece of glass, hung like a sun catcher, casting pastel rainbows against the building.
It was perfect.
I stood up and rounded the table, taking the folder from her and setting it aside, without telling her if I liked her choice or not. I took the next folder of decisions I needed to make asap to build them on time and held it out to her; she responded by rolling her eyes, walking to my seat, sitting down, and extending her hand.
“How many decisions are you stuck on?”
I hesitated, with the folder in the air, as I felt the power she was trying to take back from me with that question. But in reality, design details overwhelmed me. I didn’t care what color the walls were, as much as I did about the material laying on the floor everyone would see when they first walked in. My brain didn’t work that way. But Sloane, on the other hand, had a degree in interior design. She was the perfect person to help.
I handed the folder across the space, “A lot.”
“Color me surprised,” She opened the folder and took a deep breath, eying up the swatches of fabrics laid out. “Start telling me what I’m looking at so I can help you.”
“Room colors.” I uttered. “Different colors for each room. Different design concepts.”
She whistled and tilted her head to the side as she started running her fingertips over the fabric batches. “How many rooms are we talking about? There are forty-seven rooms currently, but some aren’t used at all anymore. That doesn’t include the larger spaces like the exhibition stage and the lounge.” She finally looked up at me, “Wait, you aren’t getting rid of the stage, are you?”
I pulled a chair out next to her and sat down in it, crossing one ankle over my knee. “Does it get used? Last night was the only time I’ve seen it busy.”
“It will be used.” She argued. “When you allow me to book the talent using it.”
“But has it been used?” I clarified, challenging her. She held that stage in high regard, and I wondered what she was willing to do to keep it.
“Not by staff, but clients could rent it for their fun if they want.” She held my stare and then pressed on, desperate to plead her case for that room. “There’s a market for instruction exhibitions. You said it yourself; last night, it was full.”
“How many other shows have you done?”
“None.” She pursed her lips. “That was the first one I got approved.”
“Hmm.” I hummed, eyeing the folder a few down in the stack that I knew held the design plans I had for the exhibition stage. Because she was right, there was a market for that style of event, and I knew it. But as she looked away from me and went through the paint colors attached behind the fabrics, I wondered if she’d approve of what I had planned originally for her precious stage. Before last night, the plans had been made purely with an economic return in mind.
But now—now I was already seeing something different in my mind for that space. Something deserving of having such a jewel standing upon it. Something worthy of my Rainbow.
Ember’s brain worked fast and efficiently as she started dissecting the details, pulling fabrics out with paint sample cards and pairing them up. “I don’t think you should do rooms with monochromatic color schemes. I hate the way the color blocking melts together and gets flat.” She kept moving stuff around, working with her hands and talking quickly as she pressed on, “Take the champagne massage room, for instance,” She stated and I paused, watching her as she talked a mile a minute. “The fabric gets lost on the walls because it doesn’t stick out against anything. The textures and colors should complement each other, not match.”
Hearing her mention the room I was in last night, watching her while I used one of her coworkers for my sexual satisfaction, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. How did she know I was there?
What did the blonde tell my Rainbow?
“Look.” She pushed the folder over in front of me and tapped it like I could miss the new arrangement inside. “Imagine that room, with this color scheme.” Looking up at me, her gold eyes found mine staring at her and she sat up straight, creating space between us she had eliminated in her excitement. “Ke-keep the champagne in the fabric of the beds, chairs, and one accent wall.” She stammered, trying to refocus on the task, looking down at the folder and pointing again, “Then do a dark burgundy on the other walls and ceiling. Add in gold fixtures and a golden floor.” She hesitated, glancing back up at my eyes, which were still staring directly at her instead of the folder. “It creates depth and sensation.”
I was feeling sensations, alright.
Just not about the colors.
“Do it.” I closed the folder and handed it to her, still holding her stare. “Re-design the rooms. We’ll be adding thirteen private rooms on the second floor and eliminating the larger unused space opposite the champagne room on the other side of the stage. Design them in a varying way so that no room is exactly the same and bring it back tomorrow.” I stood up and removed myself from her tempting personal space to empty my coffee out and pour scotch instead. “Do it well and you can keep those sixteen employees you’re supposed to fire.” Turning back to face her where she still sat at the table with a bewildered expression on her face, I continued. “Do it poorly and you’ll fire twenty.”
She scoffed, and her shoulders deflated in disappointment. “You’re an ass, aren’t you?”
“For the fun of it most days.” I admitted with a slight shrug.
Sloane rose, picking up the folder of color choices, and put it in her purse with a huff. “Anything else?”
“Why are you a hooker and not an interior designer?” I asked, and her eyes widened before squinting in disbelief. “It seems silly to have not one, but two degrees and not use them. Especially considering what you do for a living.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“I thought we already covered that. So tell me why.”
“Why?” She snapped, “It’s not like you’d understand a word of my story from your high and mighty, prim and proper royal tower. You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.” I challenged, and she paused, staring at me. Even though I wanted to look away from the answers I was already seeing in her fiery gold eyes, I forced myself to hold her gaze.
“I didn’t want the life I escaped.”
“Brookline was so terrible?” I scoffed, annoyed at her avoidance.
“The family life.” She shot back, standing taller in defiance as she ignored the fact that I knew specifics about her personal life that she didn’t offer willingly. “I didn’t want to wake up one day, married and shackled to a white picket fence, just to realize it was all an act the whole time.”
“Sounds a lot like that golden American Dream you all talk about so much.” I raised a brow at her, “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s not for me.” Sloane shook her head. “It's only skin deep and fake. Nothing is real behind the fake smiles and public image. No happiness. No love.”
“Love.” I chuckled, “And you find love at The Vixen’s Den?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No. And that’s the point. I don’t want any of that. I don’t want to be tricked by the illusion of it. So I went to the most unlikely place I’d find it.” I opened my mouth to dig deeper into her mind but she cut me off, “Anything else?”
I held back the urge to continue and let her go. Something told me Sloane was a runner, avoiding the real shit life could offer her. Maybe there was some truth to her tale about growing up in a lie. Perhaps she was running from something, but it wasn’t the tragic life I imagined. Maybe it was just bland. “Report to the building tomorrow at two with the designs.”
“Yes, Sir.” She snidely replied, pulling her jacket on and tying it around her waist aggressively.
I silently watched her grab her things and head toward the elevator bay when I gave in to my desire to have the last word. Walking to the foyer entrance, she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye while she waited for the elevator, which thankfully dinged with its arrival quickly.
And that was when I hooked her.
“Sloane.” I called, and she paused inside of the elevator with the doors wide open. “I’m doubling the size of your stage room. Start planning talent for it.” Her eyes widened and her lips parted with excitement; so of course I had to remind her who the boss was. “Show up late again and you’ll lose the entire thing. I’ll put a cigar room in the middle of the building just to piss you off.”
The doors slid closed as anger brewed on her face, encapsulating her inside before she could reply fully, though I heard the whisper of her voice as they shut, “Cocksucker.”
I tossed back the liquor in my glass and walked through the obnoxiously large penthouse to my room on the other side of it, grinning.
She was going to look so fucking good on that stage when I was done building it for her. Too bad I’d dangle it in front of her like a carrot until the grand opening just to spite her.