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“Well, no, not you per se, but…” I try to backpedal. “My dad can be shady and we both know that. He has a history of making some not so moral decisions and maybe he’s taking advantage of your friendsh?—”
He holds up his finger and I snap my mouth shut.
“Brontë, I have an appointment I need to get to, but I’m going to be brutally honest with you right now. Don’t bring your personal past with your father into this company and your job. That is between the two of you and for what it’s worth, he is a changed man. I know he’s wronged you, hurt you beyond belief, and he has to work damn hard to rebuild that trust and relationship with you, but I won’t have you projecting your issues onto my relationship with him. Understood?”
My initial, emotional reaction is to tell him to go to hell, but I take a deep breath and realize that he’s absolutely right.
“You’re right,” I say slowly, his face softening with my admission. “I’m sorry. I did let my past with him cloud my judgment, but I do want to speak with him about this once I get confirmation from Pierce’s financial team that this is, in fact, all of the reports.”
He shakes his head. “Tomorrow, get clarification from Pierce. Then I’ll speak to your father about it once you’ve confirmed with them.”
“Seriously?”
He gets that look on his face again. The one that says, question my authority again and face the consequences.
I roll my eyes. “You hired me for my expertise in forensic accounting. The least you can do is trust me to have a civil conversation with him about what I’ve found.”
He closes the distance between us so fast I don’t even have time to react. He presses his hand flat against my chest, walking us back two steps till my ass hits his desk, his hand traveling up my neck to my hair where he grabs a handful of it, tugging it gently enough that it doesn’t hurt but hard enough it sends a message. My neck is tilted back, my chin upward so that I’m looking at him. His body is pressed against me, his cock rigid against my thigh.
“I’m only going to say this once, sweetheart. You work for me; therefore, you answer to me. I don’t care if we’re in the boardroom or the bedroom. If I’m giving you orders to give me a report, answer the phone, or suck my cock, you obey me.”
His words are harsh, but they set my body ablaze. I don’t even want to know the psychology behind why I enjoy when he bosses me around like this because I’m sure if I do, I’ll run for the hills, and I’m not ready to walk away from this fantasy yet.
“And what if I don’t obey you, Mr. Archer?”
I swear his eye twitches at my defiance. He tightens his grip on my hair, yanking harder, my scalp burning. He spins me around, bending me over his desk and placing his forearm forcefully against my back so that my chest and cheek are flat against the surface. My skirt is being lifted up over my ass and I don’t need to see what he’s doing to know what’s coming. A second later, the whooshing sound of his hand flying through the air followed by the loud smack of his hand against the bare flesh of my ass fills the room.
“Ow!” I yelp and attempt to stand up, but he pushes against my back harder.
“Stay still,” he commands, bringing his hand back and smacking the other cheek just as hard.
He releases his arm from me, pulling my skirt back down and helping me to stand back up.
“Next time”—he cups my cheeks—“it’ll be the riding crop and I can promise you it won’t be just two times. It will sting much worse than my hand.”
“Then why do it?” I ask softly.
“Because I’m the boss and there are consequences to not obeying me. I want you to be a good girl for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” I nod slowly and he leans forward, kissing me softly. “Good girl.”
He helps me gather my papers and walks me toward his door, shutting off the lights on the way.
“Now go home and take a nice bath, enjoy a glass of wine.” We’re standing alone outside the elevator.
“Are you heading home?” I ask but he doesn’t answer me.
“Tonight, when you pull your little nightie up and see my red handprints on your sweet little ass cheeks, I want you to think of me. I want you to tuck yourself in bed and slide these fingers”—he holds up my hand and plants a kiss on the tip of my fingers—“into that delicious cunt of yours and come all over them for me.”
“You know you could just come over and do it for me.” I bat my eyelashes at him, hoping that my sad attempt at seduction will work but it doesn’t.
“Tempting but I have a meeting I can’t miss.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead and steps into the elevator, punching the button for the garage floor.
“I’ll expect an answer tomorrow on how many times you made yourself come tonight.” He winks at me just as the doors begin to close. “That’s an order, sweetheart, so remember what happens when you disobey.”
Chapter 14
Beckham
