Page 69 of The Billionaire Submissive
“Oh, I know what she does for you all right.”
Surprised his show of temper hadn’t scared her—when every other time she’d simpered and squeaked if he even thought about raising his voice, Donovan headed for the elevator and pressed the call button. If one of Lilly’s clients had truly called her, it would have been an emergency.Unless one of them’s a nutcase who can’t bear to let her go.
Knowing her, she’d gone to help them without a single thought of her own safety. Andy liked her. If he called it in, she really might be in danger. “I’ll call HR tomorrow morning and make sure you receive a healthy severance to compensate you for your troubles, but I never want to see your face in my office again.”
“I know everything, Mr. Morgan.” Miss Wruthers’s sly tone made him halt in his tracks and turn to face her. “And I’ve got the pictures to prove it.”
“Prove what?” He forced himself to calm down. Anger wouldn’t help dissolve this mess. “That I love Lilly?”
“Some of the pictures might be embarrassing, but not too risqué. However, there’s one particular picture on a boat you might pay a great deal of money to keep out of the media. You really oughtn’t go around completely nude, Mr. Morgan.”
He’d always thought that once the ugly truth came out he’d wither up and die of humiliation. He’d do, say, and certainly pay anything to keep anyone from knowing the truth about him. Certainly his face would burst into flame and shame would eat away at his gut. He’d not be able to think of a single defense and his hands would tremble like he had palsy.
But none of that was true now. His head had never been clearer, his stomach calmer, and his hands were rock steady. “Andy Wells wouldn’t have taken any pictures. Not of his boss.”
“No, you’re right. I had to hire someone else to do the dirty work. But Andy did agree to tail the slut just in case she was up to something. I just had to tell him you wanted him to act as protection, not dig for dirt.”
“So that’s your plan? You’ll extort a little money from me to bury some illicit pictures?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Morgan. That wasn’t my plan at all.” She took off her glasses and released her blonde hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders. She gave him a flirtatious smile that made his blood run cold. “You don’t honestly think my aspirations include fetching coffee for you and your mistress, do you?”
His eyes flared, but then he realized she probably didn’t really mean Mistress, but rather the woman he was sleeping with.
She glided toward him, walking with the confidence of a supermodel. “This was supposed to be my fairy tale. I was going to play the part of the shy, plain secretary you inexplicably couldn’t keep your hands off of. You were going to be my extremely wealthy knight in shining armor. A little office hanky panky and then the wedding of the year at Conservatory. Or maybe Chanhassen’s Dinner Theatre. I hadn’t decided. But as soon as that overweight little slut sauntered into your office, you fell for her hook, line and sinker.”
She posed in front of him, and yes, he supposed she was a beautiful woman, if a man preferred icy beauty.Funny, but I liked her better with the glasses.“I wouldn’t trade a single one of her luscious curves for you…” He hesitated, unwilling to continue giving her the respect he’d shown her by using her surname, but he honestly had no idea what her given name was. “What’s your first name again?”
“Isabella.” Instead of taking offense, she must have counted his request for her first name as a victory. She walked her fingers up his chest and pressed her hips to his. He had to give it to her—she didn’t give up easily. “What does she do for you that I can’t, Donovan?”
He wasn’t the kind of man who’d meekly pay her off to keep those pictures out of the papers. Yet he didn’t want the scandal if he attempted to bring her up on extortion charges. It’d be much easier if she disappeared on her own accord. He let a smile flicker on his lips. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes, please. I want to know. I’m sure I can please you above and beyond your wildest dreams.” She batted her eyes and pressed her breasts against him too. “Or lover boy. Isn’t that what she called you?”
“Yes, but my favorite nickname she calls me is sexy beast.” He lowered his head and let his breath tickle her ear. “You’ll have to tie me up and beat me until I beg you to fuck me. Then you have to wrap your thighs around my head and try to suffocate me on your desire. If I’m still breathing, you can chain me to your bed and really have your way with me.”
A sound escaped her lips more authentic than anything he’d heard since hiring her. It sounded suspiciously like the wail of a dying animal. She stumbled back a step, her eyes big china-blue saucers. “You’re joking. Right? You’re just trying to scare me.”
“Am I?” He unbuttoned the neck of his shirt, opening it up enough to show the collar he wore, the lock clearly visible. “Then why does she own me? You saw the pictures. She often makes me go naked. You said you had a shot from the boat. If you look closely enough, you might even be able to see the red marks on my ass from where she whipped me.”
Bright red splotched her cheeks but the rest of her face was milk pale.One more push ought to do it, he decided.
“For the beating, I prefer a crop. It has a nice, heavy thud when she hits me with it. But just about anything will suffice. She even used a wooden spoon once that was quite effective.”
“A spoon,” Isabella whispered. “She…”
“Beat me with it,” he nodded. “You ought to see what she did with cherry pie.”
The elevator dinged. She pushed past him and leaped into the waiting cabin. “Go to hell, Mr. Morgan.”
“Gladly, Miss Wruthers.” Relieved she was gone, he found the manila folder on her desk containing the aforementioned pictures. Hopefully she didn’t have backup copies at home. With a quick call to security to make sure she left the building and immediately revoke all her access to the company, he tossed the folder into his briefcase.
It was 5:10 p.m. Furious he’d been delayed at all, he called Andy next. “Is she in danger?”
“I wasn’t sure at first,” Andy admitted. “A taxi came to get her at the warehouse and took her straight to the hotel. When she got there, though, a woman met her in the lobby. It looked like she’d been crying. I don’t think it’s a rogue ex-client with malicious intent.”
“At least she didn’t try to drive,” Donovan muttered. “Did you get the name or room number?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, room 243.”
