Page 32 of The Boss' Pet

“I am definitely confused by yours,” I agree.

There’s a brief moment of silence in which I think he is trying to come to a decision of some kind. I stay quiet. Anything I say is just going to make things worse.

“I have taken the day off,” he says. “I will be working from home, and you will be coming with me. I don’t trust you on your own, and it is clear you are in need of some remedial training.”

“What does that mean?”

He smacks my ass again, but not as hard. “It means you’re in trouble.”

He pulls my leggings back up for me, snugging all of my attire back into place. It’s a belated gesture of modesty that I appreciate, nonetheless.

That seems to be the worst of it for the time being, but he doesn’t let me up off his lap. He keeps me pinned there until we sweep into the underside of a building, down to a private parking lot. As we get out of the car, I feel his hand rub the back of my neck in a thoughtful sort of way. He is steering me toward the confines of a private elevator that will no doubt conduct us upward to one of his many homes.

I allow myself to be taken, staying quiet as we enter the elevator. I don’t want him to think I am fighting him. I want him to think he has subdued me.

“I thought having you chipped would be enough, but I think you need a collar too,” he says. “You’re the kind of pet who can’t be let off-leash.”

I should be listening to his lecture, but I am distracted by the fact that I am about to go inside one of Marcus Waterstone’s private residences. This is somewhere he lives. Somewhere he feels comfortable to work from. I bet this place is full of incriminating evidence.

I start to get excited. I’m not going to risk taking notes again, so I’m going to need to keep my wits about me and do my brain exercises to remember everything.

“What do you think of that, pet?”

“What do I think of what?”

He takes me by the chin and directs my gaze to his. I feel a bolt of connection as our eyes meet, and I realize that he may not know what I am up to, but he does know I am up to something.

“Where is your head at?”

“I don’t know. This is all so strange, and… you have effectively kidnapped me, so…”

It’s not hard to explain my apparent spaciness when you take the entire situation into account. If anything, I’m surprised at how focused I am.

That’s because I’m on the cusp of exposing one of the planet’s corrupt criminal billionaires. In days, weeks, and years to come, people will know my name.

Marcus snaps the fingers of his other hand, bringing my attention back to him.

“You keep going away,” he notes, rather displeased. “I have you right here in my hand, but you keep escaping in your mind.”

He doesn’t like that. He wants my attention on him. I’m sure he’s not used to being anything other than the absolute center of attention, or the universe, for that matter.

“Sorry,” I whimper. “I’m scared.”

That makes his expression soften a little. “You don’t need to fear me, Charlie,” he says, using my name in a rare instance. “I don’t intend to let any harm come to you. In fact, I am rather taken with you. I don’t usually get this possessive of my playthings.”

“Oh? You have a lot of playthings?”

I try to keep my tone light, but I fail. I sound jealous, even to my own ears.

He smiles broadly as the elevator opens into a spacious living area. Just as I suspected, that elevator is just for him, and him alone.

He drops my chin and takes my hand instead, leading me into the interior. It’s furnished in fifty shades of millennial gray, with a few bright art installations around the place. I know instantly that this is not his real abode. There’s nothing properly personal about it. It looks like the efforts of a designer designing for a theoretical rich guy.

This is probably a place he entertains in, and its probably somewhere he’s comfortable working from. But it’s not a proper home.

“Beautiful place,” I say. “Like all your places, I imagine. Though perhaps not the one you most recently bought.”

“Yes. The one you went back to.”

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