Page 52 of Devious Secrets

“Marco gave me that paper I showed you and told me to call the number on it. When I did, the person who answered told me how to get into your office at the club and where the box you kept all your blackmail stuff would probably be.”

His grip tightens.

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.” I wince when his fingers dig into my chin. “Really, Alexander. I swear, I don’t know. He never said who he was, only what to look for and where. He said he’d contact me for the drop-off later.”

He stares at me for a moment.

“I’m telling you the truth, Alexander. Marco wanted the drive.”

His nose brushes against mine as he makes a low guttural sound.

“If you ever lie to me again, Megan, even a tiny fib, I will punish you so severely, you’ll wish I’d hung you up on the hook.” He sinks his hand into my hair, pulling my head back. “Tell me you understand. Swear you’re done lying.”

“I understand,” I say quickly. “I promise. No more lies.”

“Good.” He releases me and walks back to his desk, leaving me sitting on the couch with my blouse open to the cool air of the room.

He walks around his desk, slides off his suit jacket, and tosses it over the back of his chair before sinking into it. The silence grows. I start to button my blouse.

“Come here.” He points to the front of his desk. “Stand in front of me.”

There’s a shift in his tone; he’s not interrogating anymore. No, this man I’ve seen already.

“Take off your clothes.” He gestures to me once I’m standing where he wants me. “I want to see what my protection and my money have gotten me.”

Ashiver crawls through my spine at the firmness of his tone. His harsh gaze falls on me and holds me rooted to the spot.

After a moment passes and I’m still frozen before him, his left eyebrow slowly lifts into a sharp peak. He’s already touched me in the most private places. Hell, we’ve already fucked. But the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to take stock, paralyzes me.

“Megan.” My name breaks through the silence. “Now is not a good time to rebel against me. Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

There are two buttons left on my blouse to work open, then I’m able to shrug out of the blouse. After draping it across the chair beside me, I shimmy out of my jeans and add them to the chair.

I glance at him with some hope that he’ll let me stop here.

He tilts his head in a silent question—Why aren’t you doing as told?

Focusing my attention on the task at hand, I move my gaze to the black stapler. It seems so out of place. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill stapler sitting among such extravagance, it’s not supposed to be here.

Like me.

The hook of my bra comes undone easily and the straps fall down my shoulders. I grab the cups before they can drop away from my chest. He’s seen me already—there’s nothing I can hide from him—yet self-preservation rules me.

There’s no point; he’ll take it from me if he wants to. He can rip off my panties and do whatever he wants to me. No one here will stop him.

I pull the bra free of my arms and drop it with the rest of my clothes, then hook my thumbs into the elastic of my panties. Shoving them down over my hips and down to my ankles, I busy my mind, blocking out the fact that he’s watching.

Judging.

“Put your hands on your head,” he orders, leaning back in his chair like a king.

“Alexander, what are you doing? I’m sorry I lied.” I fold my arms over my chest and press my thighs together as tightly as I can.

“I’m sure you are. Especially since you got caught.” He moves to his feet effortlessly and glides around the desk, never taking his heated gaze off me.

When he’s behind me, the warmth of his body spreads across my bare back. He leans into me, the soft dusting of his five o’clock shadow rough against my shoulder.

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