Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I go back to my computer and pull up the security footage.
I rewind it until I see my wife coming up to the side of the bar. I watch her, Beau, and Bethany exchange some words. Looks like they’re arguing. He shows them the schedule, and I smile.
Then Bethany grabs the drink on the counter and tosses it onto my wife’s legs. The smile drops off my face. Bethany storms off, and I watch Lake try to get the drink out of her heels unsuccessfully.
Turning it off, I sit back in my seat, looking back over at Lake. She sits there as tears silently run down her pretty face. I thought she was crying when she entered my office because of her pride. It had nothing to do with that. It was because she’d been walking around with wet high heels on.
Glancing at the clock on my computer, I see she’s been working for over an hour. It had to have been painful. I mean, the point was for it to be painful, but not like that. I wanted to force my hand. Show her that I was in charge here. But not like this. I control my wife, not anyone else.
I pick up my office phone and push five for the bar. Beau answers and the sound of the bass filters through the phone. “Yes, sir?” he calls out.
“Send Bethany up here,” I order.
“On it.” He hangs up and I sit back in my seat, staring at the heels on my desk.
“Tyson.” Lake jumps to her feet, her face scrunching at the pain she feels, knowing exactly what I’m about to do.
“Sit down, Lake,” I order.
“But—”
“Sit. Down,” I bark out, pissed off. Not at her but the situation. She is my wife. Mine to own. I can do with her as I please, not some little bitch who thinks she owns this place.
Lake falls into her seat and closes her eyes, letting out a deep sigh as my door opens. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Bethany enters with a naughty smile on her face. As if this is a booty call. It drops off the moment she sees Lake sitting on the couch.
“I’m going to give you one chance—”
“You little bitch. You snitched on me!” she yells, turning on Lake, interrupting me.
My wife jumps to her bare feet once more. “I didn’t say shit.”
“Enough!” I shout, and the room falls silent. “This is your one chance, Bethany, to tell me what happened.” I stand, placing my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
She lets out a huff and crosses her arms over her chest, silence follows.
I nod in understanding. “Sit on the couch, Bethany.” She takes in a nervous breath before doing as she’s told. “Lake, come here.”
I turn, giving them both my back to pick up what I need off my desk and then turn to see my wife standing in front of me. “Bethany will wear these tonight.” I hold out the shoes and cuffs to my wife. “Put them on her.”
Her wide eyes stare up into mine as her shaky hands take them. “Tyson,” she whispers. “Please don’t.” Her voice trembles as she begs me not to make her do this.
I don’t give a fuck.
She sniffs, taking them from me, and I can’t help but reach out and rub my thumb along her cheek, smearing the black mascara that has run down her pretty doll-like face. “You’ve been given an order, little darling.”
Her shoulders fall, and she turns to a pissed-off Bethany who sits on the couch. She reaches out, snatches them from her hand, and puts them on, slamming her feet down on the floor. My wife kneels at her feet and places the cuffs on. Just like I did hers. I smile at the fact that I don’t even have to tell her to place them on tightly.
Once done, my wife stands and turns to face me. I walk over to her. “Go upstairs and wait for me.”
She turns and exits the room, more than happy to obey that command.
“Ty—”
I turn and face Bethany who now stands in front of me.
“It was an accident,” she says, her eyes desperately pleading with me. “I didn’t mean to.”
Ignoring her, I go over to my mini fridge that I keep in my office and open it up. I unscrew the top of a bottle of water. I step into her, and her breathing picks up as I lean down, making sure to pour the water directly into the heels until it’s spilling over the closed toe.
I stand, tossing the empty water bottle across the room. Reaching out, I grip her neck and slam her back into the nearest wall. “This is your only warning. Leave my wife alone. Do you understand me?”
“Tyson—”
Gripping it tighter, I pull her from the wall and slam her back into it. “Don’t fucking touch her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even look at her. Do you understand?” I’m shouting in her face.