Page 25 of Forbidden Mistress

“I…”

Before I can get the words out, his hand raises up and curls around my neck, his thumb caressing the column of my throat. Then his mouth comes down on mine again, cutting off whatever it is I should have said. I’ve forgotten now, anyway.

He pulls back again with a growl deep in his throat and steps away from me. I hear the rustling of something nearby, then the light flicks back on. He’s standing a few feet away with his mask on, arms crossed over his bare chest. He looks so damn powerful, I want to go to him and dissolve into a puddle at his feet. But his barriers are back up. That snapping energy between us has been capped, and we are employer and employee again.

Did I just fuck things up between us? And if so, should I be surprised? It’s the story of my life. The question isn’t if I can drive a man away, it’s how quickly will it happen.

“I—”

He lifts his hand, cutting off my words.

“You will arrive at nine-fifteen for your shift, not a moment before. And you will leave the club when I dismiss you.”

My eyebrows knit. Fuck, dude. This guy is a total killjoy. “Why can’t I be here outside of my work hours? I–I’m not trying to be difficult,” I rush to add. “I just don’t understand why being here early is a bad thing.”

He lowers his arms and approaches me again. He takes my chin in his hand. “I can’t always be here to watch you, and I’d rather not take the chance.”

I’m looking up into his beautiful brown eyes, snapping with that energy again. “Take a chance at what?”

This place is devious, to be sure, but there’s security and staff everywhere. Nothing is going to happen here. Obscura runs an insanely tight ship. Anything that happens here is allowed to happen, period. I’ve only been here a few times, and that’s already abundantly clear.

Unless….is he afraid some other man will lure me away? Like Phantom tried to do the other night? I guess it’s possible. I’m here for the money, right? Some other sexy beast could offer me the same deal—watch him have sex for a generous hourly fee. If the money were more, I might be tempted. But I don’t know, there’s something about Hart that I find incredibly enticing, and I’m not sure that can be so easily replicated, even if the guy is hot.

His grip on my chin tightens, and he ignores my question. “Are my terms clear, Little Fawn?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

Whatever. He doesn’t want me having fun here, fine. I’ll find someplace else on the nights I’m not working. Somewhere he can’t watch me. There are a hundred different clubs in the L.A. area.

“My car will take you home,” he says.

I twist my head out of his hold. “It’s fine. I can call an Uber.”

The less I rely on Hart, the better. I can already feel myself falling for him—though why that is, I have no idea. We’ve only ever had what amounts to a five-minute conversation. I wonder if I’ll feel the same way when I see him as Lucien in his office tomorrow?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, then I turn and leave Hart standing in the room alone.

The next afternoon, I’m on my way to Beverly Hills. No car is sent for me this time, so I have to navigate the L.A. traffic myself, which is no easy feat. I left early, though, so I get to Lucien’s office with time to spare. Parking is another nightmare, but I manage to find a tiny spot in the bowels of the parking garage of his office building.

As I climb out of my car, I grab my purse and run my sweaty palms down my black-and-white-striped skirt. Even though I’ve literally watched this guy getting sucked off, I want to look professional. So I dug out my best pieces from the very back of my closet. Honestly, I hadn’t worn this outfit in so long, it was legit like an archeological dig. I was half-afraid it wouldn’t fit. But it does, thank goodness. Months of a ramen-only diet will do that for a girl, if nothing else.

I head up to the seventh floor, per Sara’s instructions. The elevator opens to an enormous lobby, all glass and marble, with a reception desk directly ahead. I approach and wait for the woman behind the desk to look up and notice me. When she finally does, a friendly smile spreads across her face. “Good afternoon,” she says. “How may I help you?”

I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “My name is Cassandra Fitzgerald. I’m here to see Lucien Hunter. I have a three o’clock appointment.”

“Please have a seat,” she says. “While you wait, can I offer you some water, tea, or coffee?”

“Water would be great, thanks.”

I take a seat, and the woman brings me a chilled bottle of fancy sparkling water. I practically swallow the entire bottle in one gulp—which is a mistake, because now I’m going to have to pee. And I’m so nervous butterflies are rioting in my stomach. So that makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. Why am I so anxious? I analyze that for a second. I think it’s because this will be the first time I’ll be seeing Lucien’s face, completely mask free from either the Green Man or the stag. I tried Googling him, but there are no pictures of him online. Like, none. Just an Instagram account with scenic travel photos, which seems to be one of his hobbies. So this is the first time I’ll see him as he is. In his real life. And I’m worried I’ll be disappointed.

I shake myself mentally, reminding myself this isn’t about what happens in Obscura. This meeting is about my father’s legacy and snatching it back from my asshole stepbrother’s tight grip. I have to focus on that. Anything that happens inside that office is separate from whatever happens inside Obscura. For my own sanity, I have to compartmentalize the two.

“Ms. Fitzgerald?”

I glance up, yanked out of my thoughts. “Yes?”

“Mr. Hunter will see you now.”

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