Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
And then she went quiet. Her hand clasped over her mouth and her shoulders did that horrible fucking judder that only means tears.
“And that’s it, is it?” I said. “Poor little Faye is going to cry her eyes out because Andy’s so fucking mean to her. That’s where we’re at?”
She raised her hand, and the slightest little sob slipped out of her. It was a pitiful fucking noise, and it smacked me right in the fucking stomach.
“What are you going to do now, Faye?” I sneered. “Google some fucking lawyers again? Run off back to Vincent cunt-face Blackthorne? Hide in your shitty little hotel room and cry it all out? What’s it going to be, Faye?”
She caught her breath and summoned a sliver of composure, even though her eyes were pools of hurt. “You don’t want me here, Andy. You’ll never let me back in, will you? Not as a partner. It doesn’t matter what I do now, I’ll always be the enemy.”
“You think that, do you?” I snapped. “That’s really what you fucking think? You’re sitting in my fucking office, at your old fucking desk. You have a fucking in-tray, and a laptop, and a fucking telephone extension. I think I’ve been really pissing generous, all things considered.”
“You don’t treat me anything like an equal!”
“So make me!” I raged. “You want respect, you fucking earn it! You want to be my fucking partner again, then you’ll have to stand up tall and stand your fucking ground! We’re going to butt heads, Faye, all the fucking time. That’s who I am! I’m not going to roll onto my back for you like some spineless fucking squib. I make decisions, I take charge, I boss people around, that’s who I fucking am! Stand up for yourself. You should have called me on the mobile the second you knew I wasn’t coming in, and you should have bollocked me, like I’d bollock you, and believe me, I’d fucking bollock you. You should have told me to get my fucking arse into work, to stop being such an irresponsible, stroppy fucking cunt and to get the fuck on with it.”
“Like you’d have listened! Andy Morgan doesn’t fucking listen!” she spat.
“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t, but you’d have been in the fucking right, Faye, and even I’m not such a thick-skulled fucking asshole that I wouldn’t have seen it. You get respect by demanding it. You’ll be my partner again when you learn to fucking act like one.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do!” she hissed, and there were tears again, rolling down her cheeks in mascara-streaked rivers. She was a pain in the ass; a hysterical, whimpering, self-pitying ghost of the woman I risked a fucking fortune for, but she was so fucking beautiful that she took my breath.
I stormed to the filing cabinet at the back of the room, unloading boxes of paperwork from the top before I managed to reach what I was aiming for. I slammed the case down in front of her, springing open the clasps with angry fingers. The case was a bespoke walnut masterpiece, lined with black silk, and much more expensive than the contents.
The tears stopped in a heartbeat, and she stared up at me with big glassy eyes. “What’s this?”
“What does it fucking look like?” I said. I pulled out the cane and tapped it against my palm. My own personal favourite, and it felt just as smooth as I remembered it. A decent weight, yet springy enough to draw blood if you caught the skin right. She took out the paddle, and the strap, too, turning them over in her hands in nothing short of wonder.
I dropped the cane back in its case, and leaned over until her face was just an inch from mine. “So, what’s it going to be, Faye? Are you going to stand up for yourself and teach me a fucking lesson, or am I going to bend you over that desk and give you something to really cry about?”
***
Chapter Ten
Faye
Andy’s eyes were dark, dredging mine for the slightest sniff of weakness. His whole body was wired; tense and tightly wound, ready to spring for my throat.
It would have been so easy to let him. But not today. This was my day. My week.
I got to my feet, summoning every ounce of grit in my body.
“Strip,” I said. “Everything.”
His eyes flashed with the desire for rebellion, but his body followed my orders. He slipped off his jacket, then fumbled at his cufflinks, dropping them onto the desk with a metallic clunk. He pulled off his tie, laying it neatly across his jacket before his fingers worked their way down his shirt buttons. Solid shoulders topped a chest that was tight and toned, tapering into the sculpted wall of his abs and the muscular V of his hips. He kicked his shoes and socks off, unbuckled his belt and loosened his trousers just enough to drop them to the floor.