Chapter 3 #2
"Heard you got a new pet," Carter slurred, gesturing with the bottle toward Jess. "Scholarship girl, right? The one who spilled the wine? I heard she's working off the debt in... creative ways."
The room went quiet. The music seemed to fade into the background.
Jess stiffened beside me. I felt her muscles lock up.
I stopped walking. I slowly turned to face Carter.
"Excuse me?" My voice was soft. Deadly.
Carter smirked, emboldened by the alcohol and the audience. "Just saying, man. It's a smart move. Cheaper than a pro, right? And you get to keep her in the penthouse. Does she do laundry, or just—"
I didn't let him finish.
I closed the distance between us in two strides. I didn't touch him. I didn't need to. I invaded his personal space, towering over him, radiating a violence so potent it sucked the oxygen out of the kitchen.
"You have three seconds," I said, my voice a low rumble, "to apologize to Miss Monroe. If you don't, I will ensure you never start a game for this university again. I will bury you in the depth chart so deep you'll need a mining permit to see the ice."
Carter's smirk faltered. He looked at my eyes. He saw the promise.
"I... I was just joking, Cap," he stammered.
"Apologize."
Carter looked at Jess, his face pale. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Bad joke."
I held his gaze for another second, letting him sweat, letting the fear set in. Then I turned my back on him. Dismissing him.
I looked at Jess. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. She looked shocked, but there was something else there too. A spark.
"Come with me," I said.
I didn't wait for an answer. I took her hand—interlacing our fingers, skin against skin—and pulled her out of the kitchen, through the crowd, and up the back stairs.
"Where are we going?" she asked, breathless, stumbling slightly in her heels to keep up with my long strides.
"Somewhere quiet."
I dragged her down the upstairs hallway, past the bedrooms where muffled sounds of hookups were already starting, and kicked open the door to the study at the end of the hall. It was the only room in the house that was off-limits to the party.
I pulled her inside and slammed the door, flipping the lock.
The silence was sudden and ringing. The bass was just a dull thud in the floorboards now.
I released her hand and backed her up against the heavy oak desk.
"What was that?" she asked, her chest heaving. " downstairs. You..."
"He disrespected you," I said, pacing in front of her. The adrenaline was coursing through me, hot and sharp. "Disrespect to my staff is disrespect to me. It reflects poorly on the brand."
"The brand?" She let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You almost punched him because of the brand?"
"I didn't punch him. I corrected him."
"You looked like you were going to rip his throat out with your teeth, Nick."
She pushed off the desk, stepping into my path. She poked me in the chest with a manicured finger.
"Why do you care?" she demanded. "You treat me like an inconvenience. You make me sign contracts. You call me 'Employee.' Why do you care if some drunk goalie calls me a whore?"
"Because you are my employee!" I roared. The volume surprised even me.
I stopped pacing. I looked down at her. She was furious. She was beautiful. The anger made her eyes glow.
"It is about ownership, Jessica," I said, my voice dropping to a rough growl. "You live in my house. You eat my food. You wear my sister's clothes. That makes you mine to protect. And mine to discipline. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to insult you. Is that clear?"
She stared at me, her mouth slightly open. The air between us was thick, charged with electricity.
"Yours," she whispered. Testing the word.
"Yes."
I stepped closer, trapping her against the desk again. I placed my hands on the wood on either side of her hips, caging her in.
"And you," I continued, leaning down until our noses brushed. "You were enjoying it. Down there. With Miller. You liked the attention."
"I was being friendly," she breathed. Her gaze dropped to my mouth.
"You were preening," I corrected. "You like the chaos. You like making men look at you. It feeds that insecurity, doesn't it? The need to be seen."
"Maybe I just like being treated like a person," she shot back, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "Instead of a robot's acquisition."
"I see you," I said. The truth of it felt dangerous. "I see everything. I see the way you bite your lip when you're nervous. I see the way you count your steps when you're tired. I see the way you're looking at me right now."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like you want me to stop talking."
She swallowed. "Maybe I do."
The challenge hung there. A dangling thread.
I looked at her mouth. It was so close. The red lipstick was slightly smudged at the corner. I wanted to smudge it more. I wanted to taste the defiance right out of her. I wanted to lift her onto this desk, spread those silk-clad legs, and show her exactly what ownership felt like.
My control was fraying. The ice was cracking.
I leaned in. I could feel her breath on my lips. It was sweet, warm.
Her eyes fluttered shut. She tilted her head back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat.
It was an offering. A surrender.
I brushed my lips against her jawline. A feather-light touch.
"Do you know what happens," I whispered against her skin, feeling her shiver, "if I kiss you right now?"
"What?" she gasped.
"We break the contract," I said. "Clause 12. No fraternization. If I kiss you, Jessica, the arrangement ends. You lose the apartment. You lose the tuition money."
I pulled back, just an inch, so I could see her eyes open. They were hazy with lust, confused.
"So tell me," I said, my voice hard, cruel, necessary. "Is a kiss worth your future? Is it worth being homeless again?"
It was a checkmate. I used her desperation as a shield to protect myself from what I wanted.
She stared at me, the desire slowly draining away, replaced by a cold splash of reality. She blinked, her chest heaving.
"You..." She choked on the word. "You use everything against me."
"I use the tools available," I said, straightening up and stepping back. I adjusted my cuffs, forcing the predator back into its cage. "We are leaving. I've made an appearance. The team sees we are a unit. The objective is achieved."
I walked to the door and unlocked it.
"Come," I commanded, not looking back.
I heard her let out a shaky breath behind me. I heard the rustle of silk as she pushed off the desk.
"I hate you," she whispered.
"Good," I said, opening the door to the loud, chaotic hallway. "Hate is safe. Hate keeps the lights on."
I walked out, leaving her to follow. But as I walked down the stairs, my hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists to hide the tremor.
I had won the exchange. I had maintained the boundary.
But as I recalled the scent of her skin and the heat of her body trapped against the desk, I realized with a sinking feeling that I was losing the war.