Page 18 of The Boss' Pet

“Yes. She will need a tag.”

I feel him remove my coat. Now I am standing in long boots, a short skirt, and a black tank top. It’s a very simple outfit, because I am a simple girl on a budget.

I hear someone in expensive high heeled shoes walk around behind me. Female nails brush lightly against the back of my neck for a moment, shifting the collar up a fraction. Then I feel a sharp pinch, and something seems to enter underneath my skin.

“What the fuck!”

That’s it! I reach up, rip the blindfold off, and stare, horrified, into the eyes of Marcus Waterstone and the… secretary? Greeter? Nurse? Of the Embassy.

She is a very beautiful, charismatic woman in her forties. Straight, jet black hair falls all the way to her waist. Her eyes are a piercing blue. Her makeup is dramatic and perfect and entirely smooth. This is one of those women I will always find intimidating. She is wearing a little white dress with an overcoat that makes her look like a nurse of sorts. She is also holding one of those thick needles much like those I’ve seen vets use, ones that deliver a chip underneath the skin of an animal.

“Did you just chip me like a fucking dog?”

“Language, Charlie,” Marcus chides me. “You’re being very chaotic and disobedient.”

“What pup isn’t at first?” The woman looks at me, smiling. She is not perturbed by my outrage. “She will settle down nicely. I will register her chip number to your account in a moment. Let me just check that it settled properly.”

Marcus takes me by the hands, presumably to keep them occupied as she waves a dark plastic tool over me. There is a beep, and she nods, satisfied.

“Good,” she says. “That’s nicely seated there.”

My outrage is growing by the moment. This can’t be happening. It absolutely cannot be real.

“You just chipped me like a dog. How dare you!”

“Bark less, little pup,” she says, her tone becoming firmer and more displeased.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Settle, pet,” Marcus murmurs.

I don’t fucking listen to him. He just let this stranger put something inside me. The indignation I feel at that realization keeps rippling through me. I can hardly believe it. It doesn’t seem real. I reach back to the place where it hurts, and I feel a little lump there.

“What the actual fuck!?” I have never experienced such a thing before, and for it to have happened so casually, and without warning—I realize I am being treated precisely the same as any animal taken to a clinic. My body is not my own. It has been marked and will be recorded, and my owner—Marcus, is the one they will look to when deciding what to do with me.

I absorb all of this information from that one little act. From now on, anybody who has one of those scanners is going to know that I ‘belong’ to him.

“You need to settle down, pup.” There is a slight remnant of indulgence in her voice, but I can tell that she’s starting to get annoyed.

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s what you are…” Her gaze slides over to Marcus, reproachful. “You didn’t give her the slightest bit of training before she arrived, did you?”

“She will learn by experience,” Marcus says.

“You mean the hard way,” Melanie replies.

Marcus’ eyes slide over me with dark warning. “That will be up to her.”

I want to walk out of this place, but I know if I do that, I’m going to lose the chance to see some of the craziest, most fascinating stuff I’ve ever seen in my life. It is curiosity that keeps me here, even though I am brimming with outrage.

I again reach back to my neck and feel something about half the size of a grain of rice sitting beneath my skin. It’s real. This is actually fucking real. Marcus had me chipped. He stood me here and he took my sight and he asked this woman to insert the device as if I were a pet at the vet.

He did warn me that going into this club would be intense, but I am now starting to feel what it is like to be owned by a billionaire who moves in circles where laws can be suspended. I don’t have any rights whatsoever. I have just been tagged as a piece of property, and no matter how nonchalant those who did it are, it is a big fucking deal.

“I suppose there’s no point putting the blindfold on again now,” he says.

“I suppose not,” I reply.

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