5. Emerson
Emerson
Is there something else on the table?
Didn’t she fucking realize I’d give her anything she wanted if only she picked up the phone and called me? I’d have to punish her for that too.
If she gives me the chance.
Fuck.
“An inmate from Fort Bay Regional Prison is attempting to contact you—”
I hung up immediately, regretting not having looked at the screen before accepting the call.
I had been so anxious about Pearl calling that I didn’t even think it could be him. My shitty father only called me about one thing, and that was money. Not that he was getting any from me.
He had been arrested right before I left for college, which was a reprieve after he kept threatening to kill me if I went, even if I had a scholarship.
Officially, as far as I knew, he was charged with a DUI first. He had gotten drunk the night before and attempted to drive home in a car that wasn’t his. To top that off, when an officer tried to stop him, he started swinging and knocked the guy out before running home.
It hadn’t taken long for him to be identified and charged with assaulting a police officer too, and cops had been at our doorstep the following morning. CPS had been there too, and child abuse had been added to his charges, along with probably a few more things. Not surprising.
I might have been the school bully, but the teachers at school took the time to look at me and notice me, which meant constant calls and visits from CPS.
I never knew how they kept finding out about it, especially since I tried to hide it as much as I could, but I supposed they were experienced enough to know that someone who brought violence to school was probably in a violent situation at home.
Either way, that meant him going away for a very long time.
I didn’t care. He’d always been violent, and if anything, having him behind bars made me feel better. It meant he couldn’t show up and ruin everything for me.
I had become desensitized to his abuse over the years, like his punches had become weaker. Dull. They had hurt more when I was younger because the pain mixed with betrayal and anger.
But now, I didn’t even have it in me to be angry at him.
Getting out of my car, I slammed the door shut a bit too hard, the sound echoing through the underground parking lot of my company.
I breathed in and out through my nose, trying to focus on the day ahead. Even ignoring my father, I was frustrated.
Because of Pearl.
It had been two days. No call. No text. Like a ghost constantly whispering in my ear, the loss of her haunted my memory.
I wouldn’t trade our night together for anything, but having her once, having had a taste, there was no way I could let her go. I was addicted and foaming at the mouth for another hit.
I restructured my whole life around her. I came to New York because of her. I wanted to give Pearl the life she deserved.
A life with someone who sees who she is and likes every part of her.
I just needed to give her time, but my patience was wearing thin, and each moment she wasn’t in my bed had me climbing up the walls.
It was making me anxious. Impatient. Angry.
I made my way toward the elevator, pressed the lobby button, and waited for it to arrive. The building was older, so we needed to take two elevators to get to our floor—one to funnel people to the lobby and the main one that went up to my company.
But then the doors opened, and I suddenly didn’t mind the two elevators or how impossibly slow they were.
Because my dream girl was sitting in the small waiting area.
There was one thing about Pearl that would never change.
She always manages to surprise me.
On the outside, she was a shy, weak girl. But I knew better. There was a part of her that was stuck inside, pushing against the bars of her cage, begging to be let out.
That girl was strong. She was confident. She wanted to be seen. Be heard. Be ruined.
I blamed her parents. Even back then, I could tell that they never spent enough time with her. Or maybe they just plain didn't care.
It still made me angry every time I thought about it.
But I couldn't stew in it because Pearl was here.
Instead of calling, she looked me up and found out where I worked.
Wearing a cute, little pink dress that fell to her knees and her chestnut hair down, pushed back by a white headband that matched her white ballerina flats, with bangs popping out.
All around her, people were wearing appropriate work attire, some of the higher-ups even choosing to come in in suits. She looked completely out of place, and I loved it.
Pearl was never meant to be buried in the crowd. One of the things I hated in high school was how she would force herself into the shadows when she deserved the spotlight.
She was meant to stand out. Just like she was now.
She always did for me.
I quickly pushed down the satisfaction, put on my best poker face, and walked toward her. When she saw me, her hands clutched her small bag.
The nervousness was getting to her.
“Looks like there is some resourcefulness in you, Pearl Meadows.”
She glanced up through her lashes, and it took all my effort not to force her chin up so she could look at me properly.
“I've come to talk about your offer.”
“And here I thought you showed up here to take me out to lunch.”
Her face and neck reddened.
“Follow me.”
On the ride up on the elevator, Pearl seemed unable to stay quiet.
“I researched you, you know?”
“Who’s stalking whom now?” I teased. “But don’t worry, unlike you, I can admit to enjoying it when you do it.”
The redness on her face deepened. God, I want to see just how far down that blush goes.
And then she surprised me again.
“You've done well for yourself, Emerson,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I'm proud of you.”
Her words caught me off guard.
Proud of me.
Had anyone ever said that to me before? And she said it so simply, like her words hadn’t just knocked me off balance. I had to force my gaze away from her and to the elevator doors so she couldn’t see more than I was willing to show.
We arrived within seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Being so close to her and feeling her body heat had me itching to close the space.
I would do it too if there weren’t any cameras in this fucking place.
When we got to my floor, I marched into the office, not bothering to tell her to follow. My employees greeted me, many of them pausing for a second when they saw Pearl, but she just smiled.
By the time I opened my door and pushed her inside, Pearl had somehow managed to turn the satisfaction I’d been feeling into anger.
“Sit,” I commanded, moving to sit behind my desk.
She probably didn't listen. She seemed enthralled, looking at the window behind me, taking in the cityscape.
Her shock as she took it in was surprising. As if she hadn’t been living in the city for the last few years and gotten to see it every single day.
And then I remembered my research. Her job at the restaurant. The auction.
Is it possible she never got to see a view like this?
That made me even angrier. Something I took for granted was something Pearl was looking at for the first time.
“And here I thought you were good at following directions.”
At that, she scurried to sit down in the chair in front of my desk as I started prepping the paperwork that I had hidden in my desk drawer.
“To the outside world, you're going to look like my assistant,” I said bluntly, and placed the stack of papers in front of her.
It was thick, since I had been trying to prepare for everything that could happen between us.
“In this office and behind closed doors, you are going to be my whore. My plaything. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want to you.”
She shifted in her seat.
“In other words, you want me to be your glorified sex toy.” It wasn't a question.
“I want you to be mine in every sense of the word.”
She looked straight at me then, the strength I longed to see finally showing through.
“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, and I saw when she looked at my wrist, where the bracelet was hidden under my shirt cuff. “Why you followed me through school, pushing away everyone who showed even the tiniest bit of interest in me?”
The tone of her words cut me through the chest, but she wasn’t wrong. Every time anyone even came close to her, whether as a friend or—especially—something more, I would make it so they’d think twice about it.
I was impulsive then, obsessed with making her mine and only mine.
I still was. The contract was just a more formal, less unhinged, grown-up way of doing that.
Now that I was older, I was okay with her having friends or colleagues because I knew she would be mine. It would excite me to see her walking around this office knowing I was the only one who knew how much of a dirty slut she was.
For me, and only me.
“You know… I see you, Emerson. It might have taken me a long time, but I got it. I see you now, just like you see me. I was wrong. I may know a lot more about you than I realized.”
That's what she didn't understand. She had some good guesses. She was starting to see the tiniest portion of the puzzle.
But she would never truly see me. I would never let anyone see what was hiding behind the dark recesses of my mind.
While Pearl had been scared about what people would think about her when they found out about her needs, I didn't have to be. There was no point.
I already knew no one on this earth would accept me for who I was.
I was dirty and messed-up, and this contract was proof of it.
As much as I wanted her, her words made me start thinking that she had zero survival instinct. If she knew what was good for her, she would run far away from this office and even further away from me.
She didn't know how obsessed I always had been about her. How every single thing I ever did was because I wanted her beside me.
I had never wanted to be her bully. I had never wanted to hurt her with my words or actions. It was just my way of being around her. Of her noticing me.
I could have told her not to leave that night. I could have told her she had me in our small town, so she didn’t have to leave.
But I didn’t.
“I don’t want to be seen,” I spat and pushed the pile of papers closer. “I want you to spread your legs for me. Now, what will it be?”
Pearl met me with a smile that had my stomach flipping.
“You’ll know my answer after I read through everything,” she said, grabbing the papers as she stood, but I shot up, my hand grasping her wrist.
“I never said you could take that out of here. Or that you would have time to think about it.”
She turned to me, her smile still in place.
“Scared I’ll say no after reading it all?”
Yes.
“No.”
Her smile widened.
Maybe she truly is starting to see right through me.
“See you soon, Emerson.”
With that, she strode out, leaving me alone, pissed off, and… incredibly horny.