Page 25 of The Boss' Pet

I thought the night was over when he carried me out of the Embassy in his arms. I assumed he was going to take me back to my apartment. But it isn’t the grimy, rough streets of my neighborhood that I see flashing past the windows.

“I am taking you home,” he says.

“I live in the opposite direction.”

“Trust me, pet.”

Do I trust him? He’s fucked me absolutely senseless tonight. Two days in a row, my body has been made his. I don’t think I have any choice but to trust him.

The car comes to a halt, and once again, he walks around to let me out. Sitting is slightly uncomfortable thanks to the cane marks, but I feel them even more when I move.

“Come with me,” he says, taking me by the hand and leading me into a building with a man at the door in the middle of the night wearing a uniform. He gives Marcus a brief, professional nod. Security. This place has round the clock guards, not to mention the kind of frontage that usually accompanies fancy hotels.

This is a place I could never afford in a million years. The rent for these apartments has to be thousands of dollars a day. Is he taking me to his place? That would be wild. I would give so much to be inside Marcus Waterstone’s personal residence.

We get into the elevator and go up a few dozen floors. No. This isn’t where he lives. It’s very nice here, but Marcus Waterstone doesn’t live halfway up a building. There’s just no way. Marcus would no more live in the middle of a shared building than he would live in my piss-stained apartment complex.

He opens a door for me and ushers me into an apartment. This place is huge. We’re talking floor-to-ceiling windows, separate lounge and dining areas, and not one, but two bedrooms. It is furnished in a modern style that has a certain basic sterility to it. Everything you need is here, but there could be more.

“This is for you,” he says, not mincing words, or making a big fuss out of this insane generosity.

“What do you mean? I can’t afford to rent here.”

“I mean, it’s yours,” he says. “It’s not something you have to pay rent on. You own it.” He emphasizes the point by handing me a sheaf of papers. When I look at them briefly, I see that it is a purchase agreement, and my name is on it.

I stare at him, my jaw hinging open, my mouth agape. I’ve heard of this kind of surprise before, but I have certainly never experienced it.

“What do you mean, it’s mine? I can’t afford property taxes on a place like this… The utilities alone…”

He smiles at me with that handsome indulgence I am starting to get far too used to.

“You don’t have to worry about bills. I am putting you on a stipend. You will not have to concern yourself with what you can and cannot afford as long as you are my pet.”

There’s the catch. I get all of this if I make myself available to him for his twisted little games. He’s buying me.

“I don’t get it. We met yesterday. You broke into my apartment today. There’s no way you bought this place while we were at the club, so you must have purchased it sometime today…”

“Yes. I did it directly after seeing you in your previous abode,” he says.

“Is this what you do? Buy women you barely know real estate? No wonder you’re such a popular man.”

Marcus laughs, pleased at my response. “I don’t do this for just anybody, Charlie,” he says. “You got my attention, and now you have my help. I suggest you make the most of what is a privileged position.”

“I could sell this, then?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, but legally, sure. I do not know if you would find a buyer, however.”

“Goddamn,” I curse as I see how much he paid for this place. It’s more than most people would earn if they lived a hundred lifetimes. There is a decadence to being around Marcus that wraps itself around you and makes you part of it. I am now in a world where I take a butt plug in my ass for the amusement of a billionaire and obtain property as a result.

“This is a lot for someone you don’t know. I can’t take this. Please, take my name off the deed. I don’t deserve it. I haven’t earned it.”

“Accept the gift and say thank you, Charlie,” Marcus chides me, reminding me of my manners.

“Oh my god, did I not say thank you?”

“Not yet,” he says, his lips quirking a little with amusement.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m so sorry. I was just shocked, and…”

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