Page 44 of Arrogant Bastard

“That looks more like sin and less like punishment.”

She smiles. “Not everyone likes baring themselves in front of strangers. Not everyone enjoys being touched by another human being. There’s a redhead in the group downstairs whose therapist recommended the club for her anxiety. God knows why. I tried to talk her out of it but she insisted. That’s not technically a punishment but I made an exception for her, and it seems to be working, so…” She shrugs.

I’m quietly impressed. Not enough to kill the need to get her the fuck away from here ASAP though. Whatever she started this club to prove, it’s time for her to move on.

We tour the second floor but I decline going any further. I don’t need to see what’s going on on the upper floors. I get the idea. We take the elevator back down to the basement and walk through a set of security doors marked Private. She stops in front a plain-looking door but seems reluctant to enter. “This is my office.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Unless you have a naked guy chained to the wall in there, there’s no reason for you to be nervous. If you do, you’re about to be in a world of hurt.”

She rolls her eyes and enters the code. The latch springs open, and we step inside. She walks across the gray carpet, her gaze darting to mine as she discards her purse.

A large antique desk and chair sit beneath a large window. The usual office accessories of sleek computer, stationery, lamp, coatrack, and, because she loves them, a few potted plants are scattered in the usual places. There’s a large, comfy sofa with cushions and a woolen blanket next to one wall. Through a partially opened closet, I see several changes of clothing, more blankets, and a couple of pillows.

Besides the worrying thought that she may have slept here at times instead of going home, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. And yet she still looks nervous.

It takes a moment for the light bulb to go off in my head.

This has been her domain for four years. A concept she’s taken from inception to mega-success. Her very own stake in something solid where she didn’t have one before. I took her from housewife to spy, but she was still in my world, playing by my rules.

Faith Carson will kick ass in whatever area of life she pursues. But everyone needs to be told they’re doing a good job. Especially when they’re expected to leave behind the thing they’ve created at short notice.

Shit. I don’t regret my decision to force her hand on this, but I feel a little bad for being a complete bastard about it.

I walk over and slide my hands over her shoulders. “Regardless of my reservations about all that nakedness going on upstairs, I’m seriously impressed with what you’ve done here, baby.”

She relaxes a little and even manages a smile. “Thank you.”

I nod. Then look around some more. There are no personal items, save for a letter opener with the letter B inscribed on it. While I commend her for keeping her cover under wraps and ensuring her safety, I’m still a little disturbed by how effectively she’s erased her past. She could walk out of this room and no one would know she was ever here. And because that suits my purposes right now, I’m not too upset by it.

“You wanna grab the thumb drive?” I ask.

She nods slowly and walks over to a safe behind her desk. She removes two thumb drives before she locks it.

I breathe a little sigh of relief. “We good to go now?”

She shakes her head. “In a minute. I need to see Axel first.”

Chapter Thirteen

Killian

In another life, Axel Rutherford and I could’ve been either best friends or bitter enemies, depending on whether I chose to have him in my life or not.

We’ll be neither because I don’t intend to give him a chance to stake a claim either way.

It could have something to do with what I heard—and immediately detested—in his tone when he spoke to Faith on the phone last night. It was…proprietary. As if he believes he owns a piece of my woman. From the hour I spent investigating him while Faith was sleeping, he comes across like the ruthless, possessive type, so I know that conclusion isn’t without merit.

The man who rises from the desk when we enter his office confirms that conclusion. I may be an arrogant bastard where she is concerned, but he looks like a possessive asshole. And that doesn’t bode well for either of us.

Besides, he’s got that brooding-face-and-intelligent-eyes shit going on that women eat up.

Take the brunette sitting on the sofa, for example. There’s a fevered intensity about her when she looks at him that would’ve bordered on the uncomfortable had I not recognized it in myself whenever I look at Faith.

Axel’s gaze, however, is not on his woman but on mine.

“B, I saw you on the monitors. I could’ve dreamed you said you wouldn’t be coming to work tonight.”

“Yeah, so I changed my mind.”

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