Page 42 of The Boss' Pet

“I’ll send someone out for some clothing for you. It won’t be long. Anything you want in particular?”

“Oh. Uhm.”

“Put the order through on your phone. There’s an app.”

I look at the phone and see that there is an app there with a little collar on it. When I tap the pink icon, it opens to a list, basically, where you can share links and other things.

“You want something? Need something? You share it there,” Marcus says.

“Really? I can order anything I want?”

“Yes, pet,” he smiles. “Anything you want.”

Hours later, I am looking hot. I am wearing newer, pricier clothes than I’ve ever worn before. I am meeting my friends at Sasha’s place, and I am bringing the drinks. Top shelf stuff. And I’m bringing fresh sushi from the best restaurant in the city. And my friends have stopped looking at me like I’m borderline mentally ill and someone to be pitied.

As I step in the door, they greet me with a chorus of questions and exclamations.

“Charlie!”

“Are you really dating Marcus fucking Waterstone?”

“Is that sushi?”

It’s a good night. It’s the best night. I get to hang out with my friends, tell them very little really, but spoil them with everything Marcus has given me. When they want dessert, I order tiramisu and have it delivered from an upscale restaurant. It’s the best sushi and tiramisu any of us have ever had, we all agree.

It’s nice to have one evening of normality, to see my friends and to remind myself who I really am when I’m not a collared animal being fucked for a billionaire’s pleasure.

Time gets away from me a bit, and I’m a little late going back to Marcus’ place, but I assume he’s busy. As I leave Sasha’s place, it’s 8:05 p.m., which means I’m probably going to be back by 8:30 p.m. or so.

I have a certain level of nervousness at knowing I have broken one of his rules. He won’t be happy. He’ll probably punish me. I shouldn’t feel this much excitement at that prospect…

“Char!”

I get a block or two away from Sasha’s place before I am grabbed by the waist and swung around like a ragdoll.

It’s been months since this happened to me, but my nervous system reacts as if it has only been a couple of hours. I freeze. My stomach churns. I feel myself start to sweat and feel sick at the same time.

“Put me down, please, Trent,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

The face of the last man I was stupid enough to find handsome leers down at me. This is Trent. My ex.

“Where have you been, Char? I went by the old place and didn’t see you.”

He’s not talking about the apartment Marcus moved me out of. He’s talking about the place he and I used to share. The one he smashed the fuck out of before he left me for another girl who he’d knocked up.

“I had to move out after they saw the damage.”

He laughs as if what happened was a joke. It cost me my security deposit and the last vestiges of my sanity.

“We had fun, didn’t we, Char?” He grins.

Trent is attractive. He’s tall, kind of lanky, and brooding with greasy dark hair and even greasier eyes. They don’t so much look at you as slide off you.

When I first met him, I thought he was deep. Now I know he’s a toddler in a man’s body, with less emotional control than your average coked-out bear. He’s dangerous, though he doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s charming. I used to think he was charming too.

“Let go of me, Trent,” I repeat myself, trying not to trigger him. I know he’ll lose his shit if he feels rejected, but I don’t want him touching me. He makes my skin crawl.

“You’re looking good, Charlie,” he says, releasing his grip. He smiles at me again. He has one of those broad smiles that feels like the top of his head could unhinge. I used to think it was part of his charm. Now I feel like he could swallow me whole.

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