Chapter 11 Andre
ELEVEN
Andre
Saul keeps looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t see me, but my hard-soled shoes strike the pavement loudly enough that he knows someone is following him. When I stalk Elias, I dress for it, but I like that Saul can hear me. He’s worried about it, and he should be.
Elias is mine.
Saul doesn’t get to suddenly notice him now that I’ve cracked him open.
I don’t think Saul is even gay. He’s just middle aged and lonely and has suddenly realized that someone beautiful and vulnerable and very sexual is in his orbit.
But Elias’s beauty and his sexuality belong to me. I have brought them forward. Elias Rose has bloomed for me.
The closer we get to Saul’s apartment, however, the farther I get from Elias. I’m not there to watch him, to keep others away. And there will be others. Others will see what Saul has finally seen.
Elias is too beautiful—and too beautifully submissive.
He crouched in front of me tonight like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I didn’t know if it would work. I couldn’t be sure that he would notice my shoelace or, even if he did, how he would respond.
But he did notice, my observant Elias, and he seized on the opportunity to serve, to submit, to be praised.
But what makes Elias such a beautiful puzzle is that he’s not actually soft. He’s a deliciously twisted little masochist. He’s perfect for me. So fucking perfect.
No one else gets to have him. I don’t even want anyone else around him.
My footsteps falter.
What use, then, to kill Saul? There would just be another and another.
I need Elias where I can see him at all times. I need him where it’s clear that he belongs to me—and where I can play both of my roles with him. Neither role alone is enough.
And I do need structure for this role, external structure. If I shape it, it will get very dark, very fast. The game will be over too soon.
I need Elias to submit another fantasy.
He needs it too. It was obvious this afternoon in his drooping shoulders, his disappointment. It was obvious in the way he dropped so eagerly to his knees in front of me.
But he makes such a piss-poor wage. There’s no way he can afford another submission to ForbiddenX.
The answer comes to me so fully formed that I realize some compartment of my brain had already been working on the problem. Another part of my brain objects because, while it’s a perfect solution, it’s also a very bad idea.
But then … it was also a bad idea to blackmail Peter Grange and take his hotel. I’ve had a lot of bad ideas. They usually end in blood. Maybe this one will too.
But that’s to be expected, isn’t it, when a sadist and a masochist play a game?
I decide not to kill Saul, but I don’t stop following him. I let him hear my footsteps. I let him understand that he’s prey. And I very much enjoy his stumbling footsteps as he hurries to the door of his apartment building. I enjoy it so much that I laugh.
Oh, it’s eerie and cruel. I don’t really blame Saul for his yelp as he yanks open the door and scrambles to safety.
* * *
I give it two days. I have things to put in place. Elias will have access to a lot of my files, so I have to remove some things. He’ll be in my office and penthouse, so a few items have to be hidden. Then there’s his apartment to prepare.
In spite of this extra, unplanned work, I get caught up from my absence. I smooth things over with Gina after missing the meeting with the wedding planner. I find myself focused and actually enjoying my role at The Axis because I’m thinking about all the ways I can use it.
I still watch Elias walk to and from work. It’s a compulsion. To see him, yes, but also to make sure that nothing happens to him.
I wish that I had killed Saul after all because during the two days of preparation, I have no control over his interactions with Elias. But I am secure in the knowledge that what Elias needs, only I can provide.
That doesn’t mean, however, that Elias isn’t going to balk. I’m sure he will. But I’m ready for that. He’ll do what I say.
On the third day, dressed casually in jeans and a leather jacket, I go in long after the deli has closed, when Elias is alone at the store in its last, quiet hour.
From outside, I see that he’s at the register. He’s leaning down, writing something on a notepad. The shaggy sweep of his dark hair obscures part of his face.
He looks up at the sound of the door, jolting when he’s sees that it’s me. I’ve never come in this late and, from his perspective, I’ve been away for several days.
“Hi,” he says, still bent down to write but with his pen frozen.
“Hello, Elias.”
“You’re, um … it’s late.”
“Yes.”
He blushes. “Not that you can’t be … um, I mean, I’m just surprised. Do you want coffee?”
He’s startled. Nervous. He bites his lip.
Oh, baby, don’t do that. My dick hardens.
“No, I don’t want coffee,” I say.
“Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything—”
“I do.”
“Oh. Sure.” Elias straightens up, abandoning his pen. I glance down to see what he was writing. A closing-up note. It’s tidy and concise. There are bullet points. “Anything I can help with?” he asks.
“Oh, yes.”
His blush deepens. He scrubs his palms on his green apron. “What, um, do you need?”
We’re going to have to work on the “um,” but I’ll save that for later. I tell him, “Come here.”
He obeys me instantly. It doesn’t occur to him to question me or be cautious.
He just walks around the end of the counter and straight up to me.
When he suddenly realizes how close he’s come, he startles.
He steps back, but I step forward, maintaining the distance that he instinctively chose.
His dark eyes widen slightly. He sucks in a breath.
Does he know, on some deep, subconscious level, that my body is the one that took control of his?
I’ve considered several lead-ins to what I’m about to tell him, clever little circuitous routes to chase him toward the inevitable. I even considered posing it as an offer, pretending that no would be a safe word.
But we’re already at the end of this particular chase, so I simply tell him, “You’re going to come work for me.”
He stares at me. Blinks. “Uh … what?”
“As my personal assistant.”
His confusion is kind of adorable. When it’s clear that he is really and truly incapable of responding, I help him out.
“You’re hard working, dedicated, intelligent, and pay attention to detail. You’re attractive, and with a change of wardrobe and haircut, you’ll fit right in. Most importantly, I like you.”
His confusion has morphed into total embarrassment. Is it sadistic to enjoy someone’s embarrassment? Probably. But I don’t let him suffer too long.
“Do you know what a PA does?” I ask.
“I …” Elias trails off. Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s just too stunned to respond.
“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” I promise. “You’ll start at 110 per year, plus benefits, room and board, and a signup bonus.”
Elias stares at me. “Is this a joke?”
“No.”
Elias keeps staring at me like I’m going to reveal that this is, actually, a joke. I just stare back and let him see that I’m dead serious.
I know the instant he believes me because his face goes pale. He sways and catches himself against the counter. He keeps staring at me, his eyes huge with shock and maybe a touch of horror.
God, I’m enjoying this.
He’s clearly speechless, so I tell him, “I’ll give you a minute. I need to grab a few things.”
He stares at me as I walk off. I go down a few aisles pretending to look at things, but I keep checking on him. Every time I emerge, he’s still staring at me. It takes everything I’ve got not to crack a smile. I’ve been looking forward to this, but somehow I wasn’t expecting it to be this fun.
Elias shakes free of his deer-in-the-headlights look when a man comes in to buy beer and cigarettes. My mood shifts from enjoyment to alertness. I don’t like that Elias is here alone at night.
He’s alone in general. No friends except maybe the girl at the bookshop. No family that I could find.
The customer leaves and there’s no problem, but my mood has darkened. I return to the register. Elias is behind it again. His eyes widen on me. He’s still in shock. He doesn’t say anything about me being emptyhanded.
“I … this … doesn’t make sense,” he says.
“It makes perfect sense.”
“But … I’m nobody.”
I don’t expect the lash of my temper, but it’s so strong that it must show in my face. Elias, however, doesn’t recoil; he just looks confused.
“I just don’t understand,” he says.
“Do you remember what I told you when you asked me what I was doing here?”
His answer is immediate. “You said you were prospecting.”
It soothes my temper both because he remembered my words and because it proves me right about him. He’s attentive.
“And I have been,” I tell him. “But what I’ve been looking at is you.”
Red blooms across his cheeks again. He shakes his head in disbelief. “This just doesn’t … I don’t even know your name. I don’t know what you do.”
“My name is Andre Black. I own a hotel in SoHo. I’ll need you close by, so you’ll have to relocate there. We’ll go over the details tomorrow.”
Another headshake. “This is just … insane.”
Oh, he has no idea. “You haven’t said no.”
His attention sharpens. “You haven’t actually asked me.”
Is my smile wicked? “So you noticed that. Like I said: you pay attention to detail. Even while stunned.”
Elias misinterprets my smile. He thinks I’m being playful. When he huffs a laugh, I like it. Maybe I should play with him if he’s going to respond like that.
He’s calming down now, adjusting to the idea. But then he starts thinking, as though this is a problem to solve.
“But why me?” he asks.
“I already told you.”
He frowns slightly like he can’t quite accept the things I said about him. That’s another thing we’ll have to work on—later. For now, I just need him to yield.
“Say yes,” I tell him, even though, as he pointed out, I haven’t asked him a question. I haven’t given him an option either. But I still want him to say yes.
“What about my job here? I have … things.”
Part of me hoped we wouldn’t have to go into this, but Elias is too responsible not to worry about it.
“I already talked to your employer this evening. We reached an understanding.”
I don’t tell Elias that I paid her a severance for him and that his job here is over regardless.
Wild confusion plays across Elias’s face. “What did Emmy say? I mean, what did you—”
“Elias.”
He cuts off abruptly at my sharp tone. He freezes at the look in my eyes. He stays frozen, like prey sensing danger, as I slowly walk around the counter to him. I don’t stop until I’m inches away, until his head is tilting back.
When I take hold of his jaw, his breath hitches. I don’t squeeze. He’s not in trouble. I just need him to understand how serious I am. I need him to hear me.
When I can see that he’s listening, really listening, I tell him, “You belong to me now, and that’s all you need to know.”
I’m blurring my roles, I know that. But Elias needs both parts of me right now.
His eyelashes flutter. He shudders.
It’s hard to let him go and step back, but I make myself. “Get out your phone,” I order.
There’s no chance of him disobeying me now. He goes to the register and pulls his jacket from under it. He gets out his crappy old phone, which I’ll be replacing very soon.
I get out my own phone. “What’s your number?”
I already have it in my burner phone, of course, but Elias can’t know that.
As he gives me the number, I type it in. I almost forget to ask him for his address but remember at the last second. He watches me type, looking puzzled when I keep going, then he jolts a little as his phone pings.
He looks at my text, which says, You’ll be picked up at 10. He blinks.
“T-tomorrow? Ten a.m.?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“But I have to … get ready.”
“There’s nothing you need to do other than shower. A team will pack up and clean your place—”
“Whoa, hold on—”
“I’m not backtracking through all of that, Elias. I already told you that you’d be relocating. You’ll have an apartment at The Axis—”
“The Axis? You own The Axis?”
“I told you I own a hotel.”
“Yeah, but …” He stares at me.
“How do you even know about The Axis?”
He jolts. “Well. I mean. It’s pretty famous.”
I kind of want to chase that because The Axis isn’t really famous, not outside certain circles, but I need us back on track.
“Ten a.m., Elias. Be ready.”
“Eleven.” At my narrowed eyes, he flushes but insists, “I need to go do something.”
Annoyed but also kind of liking his little defiance, I exhale through my nose. “Fine. As long as it’s not something pointless like laundry.”
His eyes widen. “Oh. God. I do need to—”
“Elias. Forget about little shit like that. It will be done for you. You have different things to worry about now.” I let a threat slide into my tone because he could obviously do this all night, circling around to his doubts and questions.
Is that what he does in his head? Go around in these circles?
I see the second his brain stops doing it. I see his relief. He nods. “Okay.”
“Eleven,” I confirm.
He smiles like I’m being nice to him, like I’m not going to watch exactly where he goes tomorrow.