Page 62 of Obsession

“Are you familiar with the Four-Step Approach to Progressive Discipline, Miss Price?”

Ouch. We’ve gone from the hottest kiss of my life to “Miss Price.”

I shake my head, still not sure if I’m allowed to speak.

“Step one.” His words travel down my neck to my collarbone and warm my skin. I swallow hard. “Verbal warning. The supervisor tells the employee of their concerns and listens to the employee’s side of the story, then issues a verbal warning of disciplinary actions.” His fingers flex on my wrists.

I nod dumbly. Yes. Mhm. Got it.

“Step two,” he growls. Oooh, boy. “Written warning. Self-explanatory, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. I don’t have a submissive bone in my body but showing some respect right now might help my plight.

His eyes soften for a fraction of a second at my response. I feel about two feet tall and would feel about ten years old if my body didn’t react the way it did to his intimidation tactics. My pulse races, and my mouth goes dry, remembering the last time we were this close to one another, what he’d done next.

I can’t look away from his eyes and wish I could.

“Step three involves suspension. Paid or unpaid leave for a defined length of time, presumably during which the employee considers their behavior and decides how they will proceed.”

A pause where neither of us speaks, before he finishes, “Step four is termination.”

Silence can be loud sometimes. Right now, it’s deafening.

He releases my wrists, but I still can’t move, because he leans in on one forearm, his other caging me in. I’m just as secured as I was before.

Thismaynot be the time to once again remind him that I’m not his employee, but an independent contractor.

“Do you know how many men I’ve let go, Miss Price?”

I shake my head.

“One. This morning. And do you know why?”

I shake my head again. I feel as if I’m going to cry.

“Because he could’ve killed you with his stupidity.”

I can’t breathe. I try but my lungs don’t seem to want to work.

The man I affectionately called Douche… Armand, I think his name is… Fired. Because… he could’ve killed me?

I don’t know why I mean anything at all to Cain. But there's no point in denying the fact that I do. Probably more than I deserve.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I really didn’t know it was loaded.”

His shoulders rise as he draws in a deep breath before he releases it. “The guns down here usually aren’t loaded, because I want my men to bring their own ammo with them. We do have loaded guns on the premises, because the only people who ever set foot here are trained in weaponry and shooting, and because having loaded weapons on hand helps in matters of self-defense.”

I nod. I don’t know how else to respond.

“Lesson one. Always,alwaysassume that a weapon in your hand is loaded.”

I want to smack my own forehead with a resoundingduh,because that sounds like something that should be obvious.

“How are your ears?”

“They’re… okay.”

“Lesson two.” He’s still holding his body pressed to mine, still pinning me to the wall. His breath skates across my skin, a reminder of what happened last night. My lips tingle. “You can permanently damage your hearing fromonegunshot if you don’t have proper protection. Always wear electronic earmuffs or ear plugs.”

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