Page 13 of Obsession

The last part is a whisper, clearly not meant for my ears but said aloud.

She tries to move away from me, but I keep a firm hold on her. “Come on. I’ll put some ice on that.”

“I can manage.” She struggles with me. “Where’s your little boy band with the guns? They’re probably looking for you right about now.”

I ignore her snide comment. It seems that the more nervous she gets, the more mouthy she gets. I wonder why it makes megrin every time she says something that would piss off any other man in my position.

Did she really just call my security team a boy band?

I escort her out of the alleyway, away from the kitchen entrance, and her feet stop as she hesitates. “Where are you taking me? The kitchen is right there. There’s ice in the kitchen.”

“To my office.”

“To your what?” She tries to pull her hand away from me again. “Listen, dude, I know all about stranger danger, and you can bet your sweet ass I’ll scream if-“

Her words die down when I decide enough is enough, and in one swoop, I pick up her curvy ass and toss it over my shoulder like a bag of potatoes. I knock all the air out of her in the process, which is probably why she doesn’t scream right away, but she begins to struggle with me, and my brows lift at the inventive curse words leaving her lips.

“You son of a snake! You demented fuckwad! Put me down.”

I enter through the backside of the club, and she wriggles in my hold. Her resistance is lighting a fire inside of me, which is giving me the deep urge to give her juicy ass a quick smack, but I don’t.

At least not yet.

“This is illegal! You can’t just kidnap me! Help!”

I see one of my bodyguards step out at the sound of the ruckus, blink several times, and retreat back into the security office.

“Enough,” I scold her. “You’re disturbing people.”

She makes a choking sound now, pounding on my back with her undamaged wrist.

“Disturbing people? You’re fucking kidnapping me! Let me go. I swear I’ll pay for that suit! I’ll even buy you a new one! You don’t have to go this far!”

Her shouts are increasing in volume, and I lift my hand and smack her on her ass, the loud cracking sound making her freeze. I suck in a silent breath, imagining the imprint I may have made on her rounded flesh through her pants.

“Did you just spank me?” she asks in a horrified voice.

I don’t have to answer because we’ve already reached my private office, and I stride inside, dumping her (not so gently) on the three-seater leather couch. Then I go to the mini fridge to retrieve a cold compress.

My back is still to her when I say in a dangerous voice, “If you so much as think of escaping, I can do far more than just spank you.”

The rustling movement behind me goes still, and when I turn around, Megan is sitting meekly on the couch, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

Now, isn’t that an interesting sight? I muse.

“This is the Blue Whiskey,” she mumbles softly, looking around as I approach her. “Why do you have an office here?”

I don’t respond, sitting on the coffee table in front of her and pressing the cold compress against her wrist. She whimpers and tries to pull her hand away.

“It’ll help with the swelling,” I say sternly.

She looks agitated and fearful as she looks around her, and I wonder if she will figure it out. I know she’s a smart person, so she probably will. It’ll just take a moment for it to all register.

The door of my office opens, and Parker pokes his head in. “Hey, boss, we heard some screams – Oh, hey.”

He beams at Megan, who stares at him. Then she looks back at me, and her eyes widen as comprehension dawns in the emotive pupils of those eyes of hers.

“Oh, fuck,” she curses, slamming the cold compress to the floor. “You’re the boss? My boss? Mr. Middleton?”

---