I know what they call me.
That they think I’m spoiled.
They’re not wrong.
“Get on your knees, Harper.”
I grin up at him.
Playing right into the hand he’s dealing me.
I lick my lips at him.
Grant sinks his big hand into my hair, tight enough that I gasp and desire burns deep.
“Your knees, baby girl.”
I scramble at his thigh, overwhelmed with the want to obey and rebel.
He guides me where he wants me, depositing me between his knees.
I’m salivating, waiting for him to take what he wants.
To punish me for pushing back against his orders.
For being a brat.
Having me service him the entire ride home makes me wetter than any other sexual encounter ever has.
He takes my throat, comes across my tongue, and hands over his power.
It’s the kind of exchange I like.
I submit.
And he gives me what I truly want.
Him.
Losing control.
Over me.
5
TRENT
The office is emptying, the fading of footsteps and the quieting of daily bustle as everyone clears out. I find Grant in Oliver’s office. It’s dark with the faint blue glow of the wall of monitors Oliver routinely watches. Nothing else hangs on the walls to distract him.
Sterile. No personality.
Not that my office shows off more than the traditional filigree—awards from my military service, my degrees in Psychology and Strategic Intelligence. Pictures of my parents and siblings. And maybe one of the stray cat that likes to sleep on my balcony.
Although how it gets there every night, I’m still not certain.
Oliver’s office doesn’t even have any of that.
When I step in, the two of them are spying on Harper as she heads home. She’s on the public train, scribbling in her notebook, sandwiched between two elderly couples.