Chapter 8
KATHRYN
It’s the day before Christmas, and all through the house, I’m dreaming of Blake…will he one day be my spouse?
“You’re so stupid,” I say to myself as I get up from the couch to go get some more tea—a black tea with cinnamon and orange and ginger.
I gave the office the day off today. I may be a hard-ass, but I’m not a tyrant, and I’ve decided not to be Scrooge either.
I’m also feeling quite generous lately. And I know why.
It’s him…
Blake. The man who runs my life now.
Well, not my entire life. I’m still CEO and run my own company, but it’s like I’ve given everything else over to him. And it feels incredible.
Even now, as I think back to how timid and afraid I was when I sat waiting for him in that grungy motel, I can feel my heart start to race.
The feelings sweep back over me like a nice warm blanket, sparking a match inside me that begins to burn a slow fire.
My mind goes back to those special things I remember about him—his hands, his smell, his taut muscles pressing down on me, his eyes. But most of all…
…his voice.
“Get down on your knees.”
I have to close my eyes and draw a deep breath as the wonder of that past moment washes over me like a wave.
The heat burning inside me grows. I want to rush to the couch and grab my cell, call Blake and tell him to come over here immediately.
As his boss, I should have the power to do that. But as Blake told me last night, “That’s not how this works.”
He explained that our…relationship works on his schedule. I don’t call him; he calls me. I don’t make the rules; he does.
And you know what? He’s right.
Our whole thing only works if he’s the one in control. I can’t dictate anything or the foundation collapses out from under us.
Smiling to myself, I take my tea back into the living room, and I’m about to sit down when I hear something at the door.
I already got the mail today. Maybe someone sent me a package for Christmas?
Unlikely, but I get up to check anyway.
There’s a card on the floor. Looks like somebody slid it under the door. It’s red, but not Christmas red, almost a threatening blood red.
I step over it and open the door, glancing outside to see who may have dropped it off. But all I see are random New Yorkers going about their business.
“Hmm…”
I step back inside and eye the envelope with suspicion. Who would be dropping something off like this for me?
Blake would be the only one, but I can’t picture him doing something like this. No, he would knock on the door, storm inside, and tell me to stand in the corner while he spanked me.
And I would be dripping…
Finally, after a minute of debate, I reach down and pick up the envelope.
My name has been printed on the front by what looks like an old-fashioned typewriter. That’s an odd way to address something these days.
Aside from that, there’s nothing else indicating who this might be from. Part of me doesn’t want to open it.
This situation is odd, and you don’t get to where I am today without listening to your gut. And right now my gut is telling me to wait and give this to my lawyer to open.
Maybe it’s the fire inside me, or maybe it’s the Christmas spirit that’s telling me to calm down, but I go ahead and open the envelope.
And drop it instantly.
My heart skips, and my breath catches in my throat. I yelp like I’ve just touched a hot pan on the stove and cover my mouth with my hand.
No…it can’t be…
There, lying on the floor, is a photo of me…in my office…legs spread…with Blake’s head between them…
Panic. That’s all I can feel. Pure, unadulterated panic running through me.
I’ve dealt with terrible situations before running my company. Betrayal, lies, spying, but it’s always been about business. Never personal.
Not like this.
I’m trembling as I reach down and pull the photo all the way out. A piece of paper comes with it.
5 million dollars by tomorrow. Or this photo goes online.
An account number and routing number are printed below. That’s it. No name, no nothing.
Instantly, I’ve got my phone in my hand and I’m dialing Blake.
It rings and rings, and I know why. He’s playing games with me, just like he said he would.
“Now is not the time, Blake…” I mutter, dialing again.
This time, he answers after the third ring.
“Hey, boss lady, this wasn’t our agreement—”
“Someone knows!” I snap, cutting him off. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack as I brace myself against the wall.
“Knows? Knows what?”
“About us!” I hiss as the panic takes over. “It’s out there, Blake, someone knows and they’re blackmailing me, and if this gets out my career is over—”
“Calm down,” he tells me, his tone strong and commanding. I should feel insulted, but it’s just what I need right now. His confidence is like an anchor, keeping me from drifting off into a dark, dark ocean of despair. “Take some deep breaths. I’ll be over in twenty.”
He hangs up, and I lean my head back against the wall. My legs are trembling, so I lie down on the floor. The cool marble really helps.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. I use my phone to unlock it, and Blake steps through, coming right over to me.
He leans down, and his eyes moor me to the moment, forcing me to focus on him and only him. You’re my salvation.
“You came…”
“Of course I came, silly,” he says, giving me the first full, unbridled smile he’s given me. He takes my hand in his and squeezes. “Now tell me what happened.”
I can’t even say it. I just point beside me where the picture and note now lie.
Blake picks them up. I watch his eyes as he examines them. The only hint of a reaction is his eyes narrowing—that’s it. If only I could be like that.
“Who sent this?”
“I–I don’t know,” I stammer. “It was slid under the door. I tried to see who it was, but I—”
“Calm down, Kathryn,” he says, kneeling down and wrapping me in his arms. “Deep breaths. It’ll be all right.”
His words are commands. I obey.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Instantly, I start to feel better. My heartrate slows and my adrenaline seems to chill. The vicious cold that had started to tear through my limbs fades, and I relax into Blake’s strong arms.
“What…do I do?” I manage to whimper, trying to push back visions of my company collapsing around me. “Who would do this to me…?”
Blake examines the photo again, scanning it for details. His eyes lock in like lasers—he’s found something.
“What? What is it?”
His lips purse into a dangerous line, and he licks his teeth before responding. “There.” He points. “Recognize anybody?”
I follow his finger. For a second, I see nothing—just a shot through the glass into my office where Blake and I are having our fun…
…but then…
“Oh my God!” I gasp loudly as my jaw drops. There, barely visible in the reflection of the glass… “Francesca…”
So I was right. When I thought I heard the click of a camera and then brushed it off. I was actually right!
My stomach twists. I might actually vomit.
“Bitch,” Blake growls.
“I just gave her a massive Christmas bonus too…”
Blake’s fingers thread through my hair. He pulls me closer, lifts my chin, and kisses me.
His lips are like a sedative. I’m able to lose myself in his embrace for just long enough that my panic starts to ease.
I should have seen this coming. But how? Francesca has been my best assistant in years. We never argue, and I’ve told her plenty of times that I see promise in her. I was planning on promoting her next year.
“Don’t worry, Kathryn,” Blake says, stroking my head gently. “I’ll take care of it.”
My heart jumps. “Take care of it?!” I make a gun with my thumb and forefinger.
Blake roars with laughter and gives me a teasing poke in the side. “Not like that!”
“Okay, phew,” I sigh, feeling silly for even thinking such a thing.
“But trust me, baby. I’ll take care of it. You trust me?”
I look up at him—the sharp lines of his face and his piercing eyes—it all somehow manages to come together with such kindness.
I’m so lucky…
“Yes.” I nod. “I trust you.”
“Good.” He smiles. “I protect what’s mine, baby. And you are mine.”