Page 3 of Sinister Devotion

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, Julian. I really don't, but if it's a party for me, how is the guest list finalized? Most of the kids I went to school with are away at college, or out of the country for summer break. Is there going to be anyone I know at this birthday party for me?"

"There're going to be plenty of people you know. Don't worry about it, Claire. You're going to have a great time." Julian's tone doesn't leave room for debate as he sits behind his desk. The way he narrows his gaze at the documents is dismissive enough. When he slides the schedule I printed for him into his desk drawer without so much as a glance, I walk out of his office and slam the door behind me.

2

JULIAN

Temper tantrums are something I need to correct with Claire. The women in my life are demanding with their desire for immediate results or reactions from me. Even though Claire's not blood-related, she expects the same. There are few people who have the room to behave that way with me. I give Claire a lot of room because of her age, but that's no excuse.

However, before I can call her back into my office to chastise her, her timid knocks make the corner of my mouth curve up. Perhaps I don't need to correct her and this is her immediate apology for acting like a toddler.

The door nudges itself open as Claire slips inside with a tray of coffee and a bag of food in her hands. She quietly strolls to the furthest corner of my desk to set up a breakfast I probably won't eat, but it's a part of her duties I won't distract her from completing.

"Poached egg on ham and whole grain toast with an iced matcha latte, no sugar, and a splash of coconut milk," she says with her eyes concentrating on putting the food together near the edge of the desk. I understand it's meant to be out of my way, but I don't have any desire to knock it over onto the floor.

"Claire, it's going to fall if you put it there," I tell her.

Her current frustration with me is evident as she grumbles inaudible curses under her breath. The redness blooming across her cheeks brings out the dark pink of her bare lips. Her long platinum blonde hair trails down her back in a sleek, single braid. It's long enough to wrap around my hand as I direct her head over my cock.

A deep exhale pushes through my clenching teeth because I'm not supposed to look at Claire like this. I'm not supposed to want her. I try everything in my power to stop my intrusive thoughts from taking over. I have enough problems to worry about without chasing after the beautiful eighteen-year-old girl who's been living with me for the past decade.

The loss of her father is actually the reason I'm on a mission to demolish specific businesses around San Francisco. Despite Fiona's warnings, she doesn't know that each business I have her snatching up, all belong to Carmine Scarpella.

Claire's finishing up and still ignoring my warning about where she's putting my food. It doesn't come as a surprise that as soon as she finishes and picks up the tray, it knocks the matcha latte on its side.

"Fuck." She curses and drops to pick it up immediately as it spills light green liquid onto the carpet. The specks of green splattering down my trousers force me to close my eyes, as if it's going to help me summon the patience to deal with this mess.

Once I push my chair away from the desk, Claire immediately drops to her knees to blot the carpet. The molars grinding in the back of my mouth tense as images of her on her knees for me flash through my twisted imagination. I can see it so vividly, Claire choking and slurping on my cock under my desk while I desperately try to pay attention to whatever work is in front of me.

When I feel her hands move to my thighs, it refocuses my attention on Claire. She's still on her knees in front of me, apologetically brushing my pants with a napkin.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Julian. I should have listened to you." She continues to blot every spot she sees, inching her way up to my crotch, where the slightest breeze can give me a hard-on right now. She has no idea the effect she has on me, or maybe she does.

"Claire." My voice is low with warning.

She doesn't seem to hear me, or she doesn't care; probably delighting in this method of incessant teasing. Claire pats my crotch aggressively, her hands grazing over my cock while I sit with my legs spread apart as I let her molest me.

When I can barely stand it, I grab her by the hands, forcing our eyes to lock as I tell her. "Stop, before you start something neither one of us is ready to finish."

There's a switch in Claire's eyes, a subtle change in her tone as she says, "You said it yourself, Julian. I always finish."

Fuck me.

"Claire, we're not going to have this discussion."

"Of course not, Julian. There's no discussion to have. Relax, Boss-well, I'm on my best behavior. I have work to do and so do you. Take off your pants," she demands.

I'm certain the rise of a single eyebrow makes her grin as she stands. Claire walks over to the closet, where she pulls out a spare pair of pants and hangs them in the bathroom. She snaps her fingers toward me before pointing at my lap.

"There's no way you can go to this ten o'clock meeting with matcha pants. Give those to me, I'll take them to get cleaned and you can change into the other ones." Her tone is so matter of fact. It makes me feel like a pervert for thinking she had ulterior motives.

I head into the bathroom, where I strip out of the pants as Claire walks in behind me while I'm standing in my boxers. I'm rarely wrong when I feel someone's energy toward me and Claire's no different. She wants me, but there's no way anything can happen between us. She's not the type of woman I need in my life. She's the kind of woman I'd leave heartbroken once she knows everything about me.

Still, the inevitable doom of a romance that would unfold between us doesn't stop her from persistently trying to flirt with me, encouraging me to give in to my baser urges.

"There's a pair of boxers in the closet as well, if the latte soaked through." She tells me with a wicked grin.

Just once, I need to show her she doesn't control me or how I behave. If she wants me to break her heart, I'm liable to do just that in order to prove a point. I drop my boxers onto my pants, and stand there, naked from the waist down, waiting for her to do something.

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