Chapter Thirteen #2
“I know that," he says smoothly. “But there are still consequences, darling. And you need to learn.”
“You are an asshole,” I bite.
He chuckles.
“I never said I wasn’t.” He grins. I shake my head, my blood heating like a fire. My dick stiffens, and that only pisses me off more. The nerve of this man.
This… this is the man Robbie described to me. I was a fool to think maybe…
“Oh… don’t look so dejected, Oliver. This is what I wanted.”
“Is it?” I grunt. “Because it’s not what I wanted.”
Sloane chuckles darkly.
“Ah… there you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know… you learn a lot about a person when you apply pressure.”
“Oh, really?” I hiss. The anger rising inside of me feels… good.
Too good.
I’m well aware I shouldn’t be talking to my boss like this. But he’s not stopping me or yelling at me or….
Something tells me with the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s speaking in that rough, dark tone…
This is what he wants.
This… this is exactly what he wants.
“Diamonds are born from pressure, Oliver,” he breathes.
“Are you calling me a diamond, Sir?”
“That depends,” he says.
“On what?”
“On how pretty you shine when you crack.”
I look away from him. The anger boils inside of me like a pressure cooker, and I feel like I’m about to explode. It’s not just the fact I put the time in. He’s right, I did make mistakes. One of them being I trusted him. Trusted he was good and just, and forgiving…
But the man in front of me does not feel so forgiving. But as angry as I am, there is also sadness.
I failed.
I failed to do my job, and he’s making it known how much of a failure I am, and that does not feel good.
“Did you ever intend to look at that list?” I ask bitterly, crossing my arms.
Sloane smirks.
“Do you want the truth, Oliver?” He breathes my name like it’s something luxurious. On his tongue it sounds so fancy. So pretty.
I hate that I want to hear him say it over and over in ways that I shouldn’t.
“Yes. Sir,” I snap.
He lets out a dark sigh. “No. I did not intend to look at your list.”
Motherfucker.
I let out a heavy grunt, shaking my head.
“The list itself was a test. I wanted to see if you would obey me. And you did.” He adds, “Even if it took you longer than you promised.”
My lip quivers with anger. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Yes, I’m mad he basically made me do all this work for nothing, but…
It feels like it’s more than that. Like several years of anger have been unearthed by his luscious voice, by his woody-leather scent and his breath that still smells like chocolate.
He pouts, and the sight should not be as sexy as it is.
He should not look so fucking sexy right now in his nice pressed suit with his slightly messy hair and those sharp blue eyes.
I don’t want to look at him. But I can’t help it, either. He’s like gravity, and I am being sucked in whether I want to fight it or not.
“Don’t be sour, darling," he says as he stands, coming to the edge of his desk. He rests his fingers there, looking at me, but I can’t look at him.
I’m pissed and my body is hot like a flame and my dick is hard again and nothing is making sense right now. I can barely breathe, yet…
Yet I can’t find it in myself to tell him to fuck off like I desperately want to.
I could have spent that time compiling his list, doing anything else.
Things that certainly would have mattered.
Things that would have been more beneficial to him.
To the company. But instead, he treated me not like a trusted, respected assistant who was capable of doing their job, but like a child.
Like a brat who needed to be punished.
And that pisses me off, but…
It also turns me on. It stirs something inside of me, that fucked up part of me that likes to be mistreated.
That likes to be used. Discarded.
Fucking Sloane Pierce.
“You did exactly as I wanted you to do," he says carefully. His breath warms my skin, and I realize how close he is as his voice pulls me from my fucked up thoughts. I don’t look at him. I can’t.
I think I’m going to explode. In more ways than one.
This…
This was a terrible idea.
The worst idea ever.
“Oliver.” Sloane breathes my name. I still don’t look at him, but hell if I want to. But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Oliver…” He speaks firmly, that tone sending a shiver down my body. I can’t help that it makes my body tense.
“Look at me,” he commands.
My jaw sets and I tighten my arms.
“No," I say firmly.
I wait for him to grab me. To force me.
But he doesn’t.
His breathing is heavy as he lets out a deep growl.
“That wasn’t a request, Oliver. It was a command.”
I shrug. This very well could be it. The moment I fuck everything up, but right now I don’t care.
If Sloane Pierce wants to fire me, it may be better. Robbie will have to find some other way to enact his plan. And I can go back to my normal life.
Pretend this man and his decadent voice and the fury he evokes doesn’t exist.
I don’t look at him. It takes everything I have not to, but I feel a sense of pride that I don’t give in.
He lets out a sigh.
“I needed to know if I asked you to do something, you would do it.”
“That’s my job. Sir," I say, my voice sounding pissed to my own ears.
Part of me wants to apologize, but the other… “Why would I not do as you ask?”
He cocks his head to side, his gaze appraising me like an object.
I hate it.
I love it.
It’s strangely addicting.
“Because, in my experience, Oliver, people lie. They tell you pleasantries and promise you things because they need you more than you need them.”
His words are sharp like knives and I hear the disdain in them clear as a bell.
“I needed to know I could trust you," he says softly. “Trust must be earned.”
“You did not earn my trust,” I recant. “You showed how untrustworthy you are.”
Sloane grins.
“You did as I asked you to do. Because I asked you to,” he whispers, his voice sinking into my ears, into my skin like poison.
“And you did it well," he says. “You should be proud of yourself, Oliver. Now, stop fucking pouting.” His lips graze my jaw, and I realize how close he is.
My blood boils. I’m not pouting, damn it! I’m—
“Because if you don’t, I am going to have to reprimand your disobedience.”
Something about his words melt my fucking skin.
They stir a dormant volcano inside me, making every hair on my body stand at attention, my cock twitching with renewed vigor.
The urge to defy him is strong.
So much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.
I should walk away. Go back to my Chromebook and fiddle with the damn emails or fill out my papers or…
Anything but stay here and antagonize this man. Mr. Pierce. It’s like poking a snake. I want to see if he’ll bite me.
I want to see if it hurts. If I can survive the poison.
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my gaze drifting to his mouth before finding his icy blue gaze. “Mr. Pierce?”
“No," he says carefully. “A threat would be words without action.”
His body shifts into my space, and it happens so fast, I barely realize what’s happening until my ass is pressed against the edge of his desk, sending a fresh wave of pain through my body from my avid soreness. I grimace from the sudden jolt of pain.
Sloane’s hand settles on my neck, and my pulse races. I’m acutely aware of his sweaty, warm palm. Of the way his fingers rest there on my throat. They don’t grip me or choke me or hurt me.
But the indication is clear.
He could. If he wanted to.
I brace for impact. For the rush. But it doesn't come.
Instead, his fingers slide down my neck and straighten the collar of my shirt.
“I always deliver on what I promise," he says. His fingers gently smooth my collar and then he pulls them away. He steps away from me.
“Now, be a good boy and run to the copy room for me.” He smirks. “Then call the SAM and get the gala on the books," he says as I fight to breathe. “We have an event to plan.”
My entire body feels strung like a damn live wire.
“Am I making myself clear, Oliver?” he asks and I realize I haven’t moved. Or breathed.
“Yes," I say sharply.
“Try again,” he whispers darkly.
“Yes, Sir,” I grit through my teeth.
“That’s better,” he purrs and I turn, giving him my back, heading for the door.
“Oh, and Oliver…” he says, that smooth voice making the molten lava in my stomach pitch.
“What?” I sigh in exasperation as I head to the door.
“Be a good boy and do as I say, and perhaps I will reward you for your obedience instead.”
I push through the doors, unsure if I am escaping my boss … or myself.