Page 17 of The Boss' Pet

“Really?”

I can’t believe it was that easy. I am certain it won’t actually end up that way. I am almost sure he’s going to make me regret this date, just as he promised. But he won’t be able to help revealing more about himself. Every word that falls from his lips is another clue.

We drive into the city, which I suppose to him must just feel like taking a tour of all the many buildings he owns. Though I’ve lived in the city all my life, I still feel like a stranger in so much of it. But Marcus’ experience has to be entirely different. Everything is something either he or one of his friends owns, or could own, if they wanted to.

We end up in the old part of the city, where the skyscrapers aren’t quite so high because most of the buildings are on the National Register here. These are grand old constructions, put up when the very first rich bastards came here and needed somewhere to be obscenely wealthy with one another.

We slide up outside one such building, and Marcus helps me out of the car, opening the door for me and offering his hand like a gentleman. I have a little flashback to the memory of last night, of how it felt when the hand now offered to me so genteelly was used for something else entirely. I try to hide the blush that inevitably rises to my face at the thought.

“This is The Embassy,” he explains. “It is a very exclusive club. The membership consists of the rich, famous, and powerful. That is why you will be blindfolded as we enter, and why you will have to sign a binding agreement which states you will never share anything you see tonight. And I don’t just mean one of your articles or stories. I mean you cannot tell your friends, your family. Nobody. What happens tonight will happen entirely between you and I. Understand?”

I nod.

“I need to hear it, Charlie.”

“Yes, I understand. I can be discreet.”

“You will have to be,” he says. “You will have no choice.”

I bite back a sassy retort.

He allows me to walk up the stairs to the front door without anything covering my face, but as the door opens, a blindfold slides over my eyes, just as he promised it would. I am now obligated to follow his lead, clinging to his arm as he leads me into the interior of this mysterious building. I feel us pass underneath several doorways before stopping.

“Don’t move,” he orders me, before stepping away.

Part of me wants to immediately take the blindfold off, but if I do that, there’s a decent chance he will just remove me from the club, and I am starting to get excited about being here.

A low murmur of voices suggests a conversation is taking place nearby. I can’t make out the content of the conversation, but I have the feeling it is about me. Who else would it possibly be about?

With my sight gone, I instantly find my ears straining for sounds. There really aren’t any, except for a light little jingle as he comes back. This time, he does not come to my side. This time, he steps up behind me.

“This collar marks you as mine,” Marcus purrs in my ear as he wraps a leather-feeling strap of material around my neck and secures it in place just firmly enough that I know it is there. “It is important here, because any uncollared women might very well find themselves being used in a way they will not enjoy. Are you familiar with the concept of an embassy?”

“Sure.”

“Embassies are foreign soil inside another country,” Marcus says, explaining anyway. “The laws of the country whose embassy it is are in effect there, even though they are located inside the jurisdiction of another country.”

“Right,” I say, already knowing very well how embassies work, and thinking it is a rather strange time to give a lesson on international law.

“This club is called the Embassy, and it is called that because laws as you know them are suspended when inside. You enter as flesh to be used, and nothing more. You have no rights, and you have no recourse.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

Hearing his voice in the dark makes this all the more intense. He sounds serious, and I have no doubt that rich, sick people would get away with creating a haven for them to be sick and rich inside.

“You are safe with me,” he says. “But you will need to stay with me in order to remain so. There are sights in this place that will tempt you. Do not give in. Stay by my side, no matter what anybody says to you.”

It is very strange to be given the stranger-danger, don’t-take-the-candy talk on the precipice of going into a lawless rich man’s sex club. I’m thoroughly intimidated by this point. Fear is running through me with every breath I take. There are places in the world I can feel safe, but I don’t think Marcus Waterstone’s company is ever going to be one of them. He is dangerous, and he is taking me further into danger.

“Now, I want you to be good for what happens next,” he says.

“What’s going to happen next?”

Before my breathless question can be acknowledged, let alone answered, I hear a female voice in the dark.

“Lovely to see you again, Mr. Waterstone. Is this a new pet?”

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