Page 13 of Misunderstood Hacker

6

Jessica

Since the car bombing incident,Brock had taken my security to a new level. I wasn’t allowed to leave the building that held Sam’s BDSM club, the Blackwood Security offices, and Sam’s and Brock’s apartments. Alex had my office computer and files delivered to me there and ordered me stay put. He said that if I attempted to walk into Ross Enterprises, he would fire me. Brock had reconfigured the connection on my laptop so that it would only work on the Blackwood network.

After being stuck inside for a while, I was looking forward to a change of scenery. Brock had to work at the club this evening, but he was worried about leaving me alone for more than a few minutes. So I was going to visit the Club Sanctorum for the first time.

Over the past couple of weeks, Brock and I had discussed what scenes I might see. He was concerned that some of the scenes might trigger a panic attack. I didn’t think they would. If I kept the right frame of mind, nothing should trigger an attack. My main triggers were words. I went into flashbacks when I heard certain phrases. Brock had emailed the club members, letting them know what words to stay away from for the evening. He gave them a list of words that might trigger a panic attack.

Living with Brock for the past few weeks had been torture. He was a sculpture of pure masculinity. At night when we watched TV, and in the morning over breakfast, Brock would wear only a pair of sweatpants that hung off his hip bones. No shirt. The man had an eight-pack, and his skin was golden brown. He had a scar on the upper-right part of his back. We hadn’t discussed his time in the military. Every time I brought it up, he changed the subject.

We were sitting at the kitchen counter enjoying our breakfast. I was trying not to throw myself at him. There was a lot of sexual tension building between us. His question brought me out of my fantasies.

“Are you sure you’re okay coming along tonight? You could sit at the reception desk with Mia.”

“No. I’m going to the club. You promised, if I did my research and didn’t escape my prison, I would get to go.”

Brock’s demeanor softened at the hitch in my voice. Not being able to go anywhere was driving me crazy.

Brock walked around the counter and wrapped me in his arms. He had gradually been getting more physical with me over the last few days. I leaned my head back against his chest. I could smell his mountain-fresh bodywash from taking a shower.

“I know it has been hard for you these last two weeks. I’m just worried someone will hurt you. How about we go out tomorrow? We can stop by your apartment to pick up mo—”

I didn’t even wait for him to finish the statement. I spun in his arms and pressed my lips to his. I was so excited to be going out tomorrow, and with the sexual tension that had been building between us, I didn’t even realize what I had done. Once my brain caught up with my actions, I tried to pull back.

Brock slid his arm up to hold my head in place and deepened the kiss. The sensation of his other hand running down my body made me come alive. When he pulled back, we were both panting.

I was wrapped in Brock’s arms when he said, “I’ve wanted to do that from the first time I saw you.” His declaration made my face turn red. I had never experienced a kiss with so much passion.

I tried to pull out of his arms, but he tightened his grip. I was about to protest when the ringer on his phone started to go off. Brock let out an aggravated breath. “We aren’t done with this.”

When he turned to get his phone, I scurried back to the guest room. I wanted to take a quick shower and get my body under control before I headed down to my temporary office to start the day.

* * *

It wasthe end of the month, and the budget numbers consumed my thoughts.

The feeling of someone watching me brought me out of my number-induced coma. When I looked up, a woman dressed in a black cocktail dress was standing at the door. She was tall and thin. Her long strawberry-blond hair reached down to the middle of her back.

It took me a few seconds to realize who she was. Patty had told me about Daisy. Sam and Brock’s team had rescued her from a sex slave auction three months ago. She had been sold and resold many times. They had been working with her, trying to get her back into society. Because of the years spent as a sex slave, she had social anxiety issues. She was fidgeting at the door, and I assumed she was waiting for me to ask her in.

“Hello, Daisy. Do you want to have a seat?” I gestured to the black leather chair in front of my temporary desk. The office was decorated in dark, rich neutrals. The walls were a deep gray. The furniture was dark brown or black. The office had no pop of color.

Daisy walked in and sat on the chair, tucking her legs underneath her. “Master Brock didn’t want me to disturb you if you were too busy.” She was chewing on her bottom lip, nervous about upsetting me.

I wasn’t close to being done with the latest income statement, but I wanted to meet new people. I also knew Daisy needed more social interaction. It wasn’t until I looked down to close out the accounting software that I noticed it was already a quarter to five. Brock and I were going to the club at seven, and I wanted to spend time getting ready.

“Not a problem at all, Daisy. I didn’t realize it was this late already. Was there something you needed?”

“Daisy likes doing hair and makeup,” Daisy replied, speaking of herself in the third person. “Master Brock said, if you wanted, I could do yours. Sir didn’t want me to disrupt you if you were busy. I thought you looked really busy. Daisy wanted to play with your hair. It’s so pretty.” By the time Daisy had finished talking, she was staring at the floor. I could see a light sheen of tears in her eyes.

I wanted to hug her and take her in as my own pet. “Daisy, you didn’t disturb me, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing my hair and makeup.”

Her manner changed immediately when I said she could work on me. She jumped out of her chair, and before I knew it, I had a six-foot, strawberry blonde on my lap, giving me a hug. All I could do was chuckle.

“Why don’t we head to Brock’s apartment? On our way up, we can stop by his office and let him know what we’re planning.”

After Daisy removed herself from my lap, we headed down to Brock’s office. He was typing intensely at the keyboard, a piece of licorice hanging out of his mouth. On the left screen was the picture of a man I had spent years trying to forget, the man that had kidnapped and tortured me for days. His dead black eyes were staring back at me.

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