Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I find myself staring at him like they do, and realize my heart is pounding in my chest like a jackhammer.
“We’ll discuss the positions available, and I’d like you to tell me why you want the job. But before you do, I’d like to explain a bit more about the position.”
To my surprise, he pulls out a chair and nods for me to sit down without a word.
It’s part of the act, I tell myself.
He needs them to believe we’re a couple, that he’s my Master and I’m his slave.
I fold myself into the chair and try to squelch my rising anger.
I fucking hate games.
I listen as he talks about the club, the rules, the expectations and pay. I find myself staring, my mouth agape, because I had no idea clubs like this existed and holy shit, they pay that much?
The truth is, though, I have mixed feelings about the fact that he owns Le Luxe. I barely listen to their responses as he interviews them because I find my mind reeling.
I don’t like that he’s talking to them about things like obedience, service, and integrity.
I don’t like the breathy way the blonde flutters her eyelashes at him, or the way the redhead stares at me like I’m a beetle she wants to squash under her stiletto.
I don’t like the way they look at him, and I don’t like the way they look at me, with a strange mix of jealousy and curiosity.
I watch as he smiles at one woman and politely engages in conversation with another.
I watch in horror as he asks each one of them for an audition.
One at a time, they do what I long to do.
I’m shocked at my reaction when they kneel.
They demonstrate subservience and service.
They call him sir.
The redhead kneels in front of him, a look of adoration in her eyes. She’s too familiar, too comfortable, and I don’t trust her. When he gives her a rare smile and lays his hand on her head, I want to poke her eyes out. I look away, because I’m not used to this sudden temptation toward actual violence that floods me.
Soon, the interviews are over. He kept his word and kept things brief. By the time he tells the last woman to go, I’ve made up my mind. I don’t like playing games with him. I don’t enjoy feeling like I’m playacting anymore, and I’m going to tell him exactly that.
When he turns to me, I gather my courage, because it takes all I’ve got to stand up to a man like Thayer.
“Are we finished?” I say in a haughty tone, turning away from him.
“Yes,” he says, staring at his phone. We’re alone in the conference room. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach chooses that precise minute to growl at me. “No,” I lie.
He looks up from his phone to quirk an eyebrow at me. “You haven’t eaten much today.”
“I don’t need much food,” I counter.
With pursed lips, he looks back down. “I’m ordering lunch. You need to eat.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
The air is pregnant with the heat of his warning as he takes long moments to look back up at me. When he does, his gaze is dark and his jaw tight. “Excuse me? Do you want to repeat that?”
I hold his gaze even though I’m a little less brave than I was ten seconds ago.
“I said, you can’t tell me what to do.”
An electric current pulses through my veins at the narrow-eyed look he’s giving me. It wasn’t long ago I was pinned over his lap getting spanked, and it seems I haven’t forgotten that.
Slowly, he puts his phone down and rises. I’m still sitting, so the effect is something else. He’s taller than me by a lot when I’m standing, never mind sitting. Still, I will not cower. Not now. Not ever.
I lift my chin in the air as he stares me down.
My heart alternates between fluttering and thudding in my chest as I watch him walk to the door, his feet soundless on the carpeted floor. With one flick of his wrist, he locks it, then pulls out his phone and taps the screen.
“Lyam, are you back? Good. I’m done with the interviews and will send you my decision. I need some time to get some work in, and I’m asking everyone to leave me uninterrupted for the next few hours. Also, block off all access to the community room until further notice. Got it. Thanks.”
He tosses his phone on an upholstered chair, then faces me with his hands anchored on his hips.
“Now that we’ve got my calendar cleared for the day, and before I deal with that attitude, tell me what’s got you pissed off.”
I look away, my eyes filled with sudden tears. I don’t like lying and rarely do, but I don’t want to tell him the truth. It means admitting I’m jealous. Why did I let my emotions get the better of me?