Page 69 of Hired Help

The anger, the resentment, the burning rage I’ve harboured for my father mixes with the new emotion, diluting all that fury, leaving me calmer than I’ve been for weeks, leading me back to myself.

If I deny her, she might leave. She has more resources than anyone I know.

I could be left holding nothing. The last six weeks of hell just a taster for the main course of lifelong misery.

“You want to fuck my dad?” I whisper, not sure if it’s a real question or just a restatement of her claim. “No one else?”

“I sure as hell don’t want to fuck Everett if that’s what you’re asking.”

For the first time, I wonder if she was faking it on the video with the chef. If she pretended to orgasm on camera, simply to move the focus away from the same old issue she’d always had.

Warren could have been nothing more than a check-in to see if her problem was with me or with herself.

For everything we’ve been through, at least I have that. Brooke never pretended to be someone in bed that she wasn’t.

She’s mine. The ownership is such a strong sensation it might as well be tangible. I could deny her request, force her to stick with me and only me. Let us slip back into the same rut that held us stuck fast for the entire first half of the year.

I sit up, gently rolling her onto her stomach. She goes, trusting me even though I haven’t done anything to earn her trust in such a long time.

“You can sleep with my dad,” I agree, smoothing the skin of her arse, gripping the fleshy part of her cheek and squeezing. The finger marks left behind are good but fleeting. I need something better. Something clearer.

Something to point out that even if I loan her out on occasion, she’s still one hundred percent mine to lend.

“And once you’re finished, you can come back here and tell me every detail.” I grip the knife close to the tip, so it won’t accidentally cut her deeper than I mean to. “We don’t keep any secrets from each other. Not any longer.”

When I ease the edge of the blade into her skin, I pause, letting her grow used to it, tracing out the mark I want to make with my eyes so there’s no mistake.

Then I quickly carve out my initials, strengthening my hold on Brooke when she tries to buck me off, anticipating her moves so I don’t hurt her any more than necessary to get the job done.

“There you go,” I whisper when I finish, licking the wound and watching the crimson beads appear again the moment I move away. Watching the drops grow fat before I affix my mouth again, this time applying gentle suction until the metallic tang against my tongue is gone.

It still leaks a little blood but nothing serious.

I press the blade against the headboard and hold the button, letting it slot back into its home before I tuck it back in my pocket and pull her into my arms again, feeling sleepy for the first time in forever. Feeling generous. Feeling kind.

“You can visit him as many times as you like, just so long as he knows where to return you once he’s done.”

CHAPTERNINETEEN

BROOKE

The following morning,Friday, I wake hours before the alarm. The comfort of Harrison’s brawny arms confuses me, leaving my head spinning through time before it remembers the specifics of what happened last night.

His passion. His declaration. His permission.

My arse cheek throbs where he marked his initials. A sign he cut as much for his father’s benefit as for himself or for me.

I slip from the bed, straightening my clothing as best I can, taking my keys and letting myself out, heading for the common room because I need space to think.

My body is as satisfied as it’s ever been. Harrison’s roughness turned me on in excruciating ways; ways that excite me still. It’s like he levelled up, unlocked a new skill set, and is now learning all the ways it can be used.

In itself, that would be enough to make my heart beat faster, but to add his father to the mix is more than I thought possible.

My tease had been to spur him on, to make him reach for more of the aggressive, dominating persona that he’d kept hidden for so long, to unleash a new torrent of degradation, to make him play my favourite game.

Instead, it became something entirely different. Permission.

The permission to think beyond the strained edges of our existing relationship. To think of forming a different connection, one to encompass more than I ever dared to dream.

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