Page 24 of Promiscuous Lies

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I yank my wrist out of his grip. “Do you know how much money you’ve cost me tonight? All to prove a point?!” I’m getting angrier by the second. At this point, I don’t even fucking care if I keep this job.

He circles me as I lose my fucking mind, which makes me even more furious because the pompous prick is still acting like he’s in control. “You’re just so fucking used to people being at your beck and call, and that isn’t me! I fucking refuse.”

The slightest hint of his smirk snaps my final thread of sanity. He’s pushing me on purpose. He wants crazy? I’ll give him crazy. That way, he might stay the fuck away from me.

“This might be some novelty for you, but Ineedthis money!” I grab the stapler off his desk. “I wouldn’t be working in this shithole, trying to sell my fucking body otherwise.” I throw the stapler at his head, and he dodges it. It puts a hole in the doorinstead. That smirk never leaves his expression.This fucking asshole!

“Fuck one of the other girls for all I care,” I shout as I grab the keyboard and throw it at him. This time, he has to raise his hand to block it. It falls to the ground at his feet. I’m so fucking mad I can’t even handle it. This man is too easily pushing my buttons, and I’m detonating.

“And you’re just fucking smiling like a dickhead!” I yell as I throw a stack of pens, then a glass half full of whiskey. He dodges those as well, and his smile only grows wider. I pick up the scissors. “You won’t be smiling if I carve up that pretty face of yours, will you?”

I raise the scissors, my heart beating erratically. He catches my wrist again, but it’s not like when I went to slap him. This time, the mood in the room immediately shifts. His smirk remains, but his gaze is penetrating and outright predatory.

A shiver runs down my spine as I realize I crossed a line. “Have you ever cut someone open before?” His voice is chilling, unlike the perfect mask he presents to the world. No, this is violent and unhinged, and I’m terrified to realize it runs deeper than I could’ve ever imagined. “It’s easy, really,” he says emotionlessly as he admires the scissors. “But not with a blunt blade like this. No, you want something sharper to really carve out a message.”

He plucks the scissors out of my hand. I yank my wrist free, surprised that he lets me. And it’s like in the blink of an eye, whatever dark corrosion I just touched disappears, and the pretty boy is back in the room.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” I whisper.

He seems to consider that. “I don’t think so. Besides, my sexual partner inflicting cuts on me isn’t my thing. It might be my cousin’s, but contrary to belief, I only enjoy carving messagesonto other people,” he says lazily as he circles me and then leans against his desk.

My mouth opens and then closes, and I’m not sure if he’s saying all this to strike fear into me or if he’s serious. Probably both.

I still do my best to hide the unsettling fear swarming in my gut. I feel exposed in my lingerie when I usually use it as a weapon. But this part of Dutton I just saw isn’t human. I wonder how many people see beneath his mask and, if they do, if it’s too late. I do my best to keep my body from trembling as all the buzzing adrenaline saps out of me. The office is a fucking mess from everything I threw at him.

And here I was, judging his mask for slipping.

This asshole knows how to wind me up.

“I told you the other night was a one-off. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get attached.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Or display such a lack of professionalism.”

He sighs, exasperated. “I never thought you’d be the type who needed to be wined and dined.”

“Excuse me?” I demand.

“Go on a date with me so we can get to know one another better.”

My face scrunches up in disbelief. This fucker undoubtedly isn’t used to being shot down by a woman. “No. And if you ask again, I’ll throw this thick book at your fucking face,” I say, grabbing the closest book off his shelf. I hide my intrigue at the heavy tome of bondage instructions. I raise it as if to throw it at him.

“One date, and I’ll provide you with a different job.”

I scoff. “What, as your sex bunny or something? Hard pass.”

He smirks. “Oh, you’ll do that for free. I will never pay you to have sex with me.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you!” I remind him.

He kicks up an arrogant smile. “Sure you don’t. You could work behind the bar.”

“I suck at pouring drinks!” I yell because all I want to do is wring this unreasonable fucker’s neck. This man is as insufferable as I pegged him from the moment I met him. I had a fucking lapse in judgment in the back seat of his car, and now I’m paying for it.

This asshole thinks he can throw around money and own people. I’d come to terms with working for him, but I won’t let him own me.

“You can work in my office, and I’ll pay you double what you make on the floor.”

I hesitate to throw the book. I want to because, again, the dickhead thinks he can buy me out. But I start doing quick math in my head as to how much I could earn, how it could set Bentley and me up if I could bear with it for even six months. Dancing wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing, but if I agree, it’d be working closely with the devil himself.

“Why are you doing this? Is it because I told you no? No offense, fucker, but I don’t know if you’ll stick to your word considering how crazy you’re acting right now.”

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