Chapter Two #2
It torments me in the dark of night and in the silent moments of the day. I've tried drinking it away. I've tried pretending it never happened. I've fucking tried everything, but I can't ever forget the way she went limp in my arms the moment she stopped breathing.
I can't forgive myself for it, either.
"You were driving," she says.
"And you kissed me," I reply, refusing to let her forget that she wanted me once. Just like I'll never forget the moment of terror when I saw the garbage truck barreling through the intersection, and realized it was already too late to stop what was about to happen.
She tries to look away, but I don't let her. I press my thumb under her chin, forcing her to look up. "That's what you do, Brielle. You distract me like it's a fucking game to you."
She spits in my face.
It's desperate, childish, and so fucking her that I almost laugh. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, then lean in, my lips just shy of her ear. "You're going to break before I do," I whisper. "You always do."
She's trembling now, her body pressed flush to mine, her breath hot against my throat. "Let me go," she grits out.
"Say please," I tell her.
"Go to hell."
I smile. "Been there, princess. Even built a summer home."
Her leg snakes up, aiming for my balls, but I shift my weight and catch her thigh between mine. I dig my fingers in, just enough to leave marks.
"Try that again," I warn, "and the whole fucking building will hear you screaming my name."
They won't. My office is soundproof. But she doesn't know that.
She glares, but her pupils are dilated, her eyes glossy. Even now, she wants me. She's never been able to hide that truth from me. "You're sick, Asher. An absolute fucking psycho."
I loosen my grip just a fraction, so she thinks she can break free. She tries, and I pin her harder. The artwork above her head shudders, slanting sideways.
"Why do you want me to work for you so badly?" she says. Her voice is quieter, almost fragile.
I hate what I do to her and don't hate it enough.
I'm the only one who ever gets to see this vulnerable, defenseless side of her because I'm the only one who will ever make it hurt enough to crack her armor.
I push because this side of her is mine…
because I want her raw just like this, just so she never forgets that I'm the only one who knows who she really is.
The rest of the world is convinced she's just another socialite. They think she's just a rich, pretty little girl, with a sharp tongue and too much money to give a shit what anyone thinks. I know better.
"Because it's where you belong," I answer, my honesty surprising us both. "Because I want you where you can't run."
She looks at me, really looks, and her armor cracks just for a second. "What do you want from me?" Her voice is ragged and brittle, like she's about to snap. Christ, she's beautiful when she stops fighting and just lets herself be real. "You don't even like me."
I think about lying. I think about pretending this is about punishment, or payback, or some twisted sense of justice. But I'm tired of lying, even to myself. What I want from her has nothing to do with any of that bullshit, and it never has.
It has to do with her. She's an obsession I've never been able to shake, mine in a way nothing ever has been before.
"I don't need to like you to own you," I say. "I want you in my bed for one month. Thirty full days where you're mine. My rules, my way. You do that, and I'll make sure you get hired wherever you want to work. I'll let you go."
"Are you kidding me right now? I'm not for sale," she growls, yanking her hands free.
"Do you think I care?" I arch a brow at her. "I take what I want, princess. I always have. And I want you in my bed."
She shoves at my chest. I let her, but I don't move.
"Let me go. You've made your point," she says. "You can do whatever you want. I'm just a toy for you to amuse yourself with because you're a psychopath. Blah, blah, blah. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to beg you for anything, and I'm damn sure not sleeping with you."
"You will." I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger at her jaw. She shivers. "You'll fight until you break, and then you'll beg and plead. And you'll fucking love every second of it."
Her lips curl in disgust. "And if I don't?"
"Then you can spend the rest of your life flipping burgers," I say, my voice cold.
"Because not even Liam will give you a job if I tell him not to do it.
" We both know that's true. Liam thinks I saved her life.
As far as he's concerned, he owes me a debt he can't ever repay.
If I tell him not to hire her, he'll listen.
He'll think he's doing her a favor. "Or," I add, "you can give me thirty days. "
She laughs, a humorless, hopeless sound. "You're insane."
"Maybe," I agree. "But I'm also your only option."
She tries to twist out of my grip. Her knee comes up hard, but I'm expecting it this time and shift just slightly. She manages to catch my thigh.
I grunt, but I don't let her go.
"You disgust me," she hisses, rage in her eyes.
I drag her flush against me. "And you're still so fucking wet you can't stand it," I reply, my voice a rough snarl.
She gasps like she's scandalized.
It's the opening I need. I crush my mouth to hers, hard and hungry, like it'll fix everything broken in us. She fights me, her nails raking my neck, but the fight just makes me want her more. I bite her lip, and she bites back, drawing blood.
The taste of it snaps something inside me.
She makes a sound, furious, maybe scared, but whatever it isn't enough to stop me. I pin her in place, shoving my hand between us to cup her pussy, and kiss her again.
She whimpers into my mouth. It's a sound no one else in the world would ever believe she could make, not the socialite who once told the mayor to go fuck himself with a pole on camera. But I've always seen beneath the razor blades and armor to the woman beneath.
She isn't nearly as cold and savage as she wants the world to think she is. She's just a little lamb, pretending she's a lion, so no one ever sees more than she wants them to see. I see her, though. I've always seen her.
"This pussy is mine to wreck," I whisper against her lips. "We both know it is."
She bites down on my bottom lip, hard enough that I jerk back with a grunt.
A thin line of blood beads on my lower lip from her bite. I lick it off, never breaking eye contact. Her mouth is red and swollen, her breath ragged.
"I'm not for sale," she says, but her voice shakes. "And I'd rather die than sleep with you."
I lean in, placing my mouth at her ear. "Maybe, but you will sleep with me. It's only a matter of time, princess."
She shoves me away, finally breaking free.
This time, I let her go.
"Does Liam know that you're trying to force me to fuck you?"
"Liam is too busy to see what's right in front of him," I smirk at her.
"It's not like he'd stop me if he knew. We both know he'd hand you over on a platter if I asked, Brielle.
" It's the truth. He's never once tried to stop me, no matter what I do to her.
He bitches and complains and threatens, but he never follows through.
We both know that's because she doesn't want him to follow through.
As much as she claims to hate me, she can't let me go either.
She wipes her mouth, staring at me with raw, unfiltered rage. "My God. You're a monster."
"Maybe, but we both know you've always fucking loved monsters, now, haven't you?"
She rears back like I slapped her, her eyes wild. And then she bolts without another word, her heels clicking hard on the floor. The door slams, but I hear her pause outside, just for a second, like she can't decide if she wants to come back and murder me or cry.
I wipe my lip, staring at the blood on my hand, and smile wider. She may think she'll be able to refuse me, but in reality, I'm the only man she'll ever hate enough to let own her.
She'll be back.
She always comes back.
Three days is all it takes for her to crack. I expected it'd take a little longer, but there's a sick kind of joy in watching her cave faster than I expected.
She storms into my office at 10:37 in the morning on Friday, not even bothering to announce herself.
I'm in the middle of a call with the managing partner of a European agency I want. I see her out of the corner of my eye, her black hair wilder than last time, her eyes rimmed with a lack of sleep and mascara.
I don't acknowledge her.
She doesn't slow down, her heels slamming against the tile with enough force to shatter it. She stops on the rug at my desk and crosses her arms, waiting.
I keep talking, listening to her breathing get more ragged with every second.
"I don't care if it's his company," I tell the anxious voice on the phone. "I don't care if it's all he has. I care about the clients he's fucking over. Either you get him to agree to the merger, or I'll find someone who will."
The man on the other end starts to sputter, but I'm done listening.
I click the line dead.
Then I look at Brielle. She looks wild, cornered.
"I trust you had a productive morning, princess," I say, dragging a finger down the screen of my phone to erase everything on my schedule for the rest of the day.
I won't be getting a fucking thing done now.
"Has hell gotten too cold for you? Or did you come to add assault to your list of accomplishments? "
Her glare is molten. "I came to accept your offer," she snaps.
She's finally mine. And this time, there's no escape, and not a fucking thing stopping me from taking what I want. My heart doesn't skip. It detonates. But I don't move, don't let her see the effect she has on me.
"Of course you did." I give her a smile that's all savage amusement. "Didn't take you for a beggar, but here we are."
"Let's not pretend I'm the only one desperate here, Asher," she snaps, bristling.