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I left the Velvet Lounge early, and Helen, who runs the lounge bar, the wait staff, and is my stand-in manager when I’m not around, is going to close up. I have to go through the shipping records for the Velvet Transport Shipping and Trucking company.
I don’t like that a container of painted ladies has landed on our docks, especially when the FBI had already been notified about its arrival. The shipment was supposed to be filled with antique items and some valuable paintings from the deceased estate of an Irish mob boss. It was supposedly going to another crime family who’d claimed it in Ireland.
I start logging into the secure system and pulling up the entry number. I get into the record and frown when I see the customer code that was shipping the container. It’s a strange code. Not our normal one. We use seven numbers followed by the first and last letter of the customer’s name. The order of the letters is switched around and is in Russian letters.
The code I’m looking at is the old system we haven’t used in two years. Our entire system was changed and upgraded two years ago, just after my older brother was killed. I’m not sure how this even got through and accepted unless it’s an old client. I click on the client’s file beside the name, and it refers to another number I know, which is a ledger entry—also the old style.
I need to call Hannah to get the information on the payment for the transaction. She’s one of the only ones in my organization who is privy to it. Hannah also has the journal with her at all times—backups, which are stored in three secure vaults in separate locations.
I pick up my phone to message her and freeze when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I glance at the security monitors, and instant red-hot anger shoots through me.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” I spit, dropping my phone on my desk and pushing my chair back. I fly out of my office and head toward the bedrooms. “This woman just doesn’t learn.”
My head is now filling up with punishment scenarios, and I ignore my swelling cock and how much her defiance turns me on. I’m even sure that I wanted her to defy me. I reach the room, and Isabella has already entered it. As she hooks her hand around the straps of her purse, I grab her.
Isabella gets so frightened that she shrieks and alerts Ren, who is there in an instant.
“Boss?” Ren looks at me curiously.
I see his eyes slide toward a towel-clad Isabella, and I have to refrain from knocking his head off for looking at her. I step in front of her, shielding her from Ren’s gaze.
“Everything’s under control, Ren. Leave us,” I command.
Ren has the sense not to take another quick look at Isabella, pivots on his heel, and goes back to his position in the lobby. I spin, letting Isabella see the full force of my fury. I yank the purse from her finger. Fuck, the thing is a lot heavier than any purse I’ve felt.
“Andrey, I…” Isabella shrinks and backs away from her. Her eyes are wide with fear. She’s clutching the towel around her like it’s a lifeline. “I was just…”
“Disobeying orders?” I snap. “What? Were you going to attempt another with only a towel on your purse?” I shake it. “Is that why it’s so fucking heavy? Does it have a parachute in it?”
“I wasn’t trying to escape or disobey orders,” Isabella clutches the towel tighter. “I just want…”
“What did I tell you to do?” My eyes narrow, and I advance on her, holding her purse in my hand.
Her eyes widen, and she moves back, keeping a healthy distance between us. I’ve seen this move before, and I’m not falling for it twice. I cover the distance before she has a chance to pull more jujitsu shit on me.
“Answer me!” I grab her hair and force her head back to look at me. “What did I tell you to do?”
“Ha… have a sh… shower and go to bed,” Isabella stammers, and her eyes tell me she’s terrified. Good, now maybe she’ll learn not to defy me. “I… needed…” She swallows.
“You needed to defy me again because you think, what—“ I snarl. “This is a game. I’m not your father, Isabella. You don’t disobey me and get off with just losing your credit cards for a week.”
“Andrey, please!” Isabella begs, wincing against the pain in her scalp. “If you’d give me a chance to explain.”
I let go of her hair, and her hand flies to massage her painful scalp. “Drop the towel,” I command.
“Andrey, please, I’m tired,” Her head droops. “I’ve had a shitty day…”
“Drop the fucking towel because every time I have to ask, your punishment increases,” I warn her.
Her eyes drop, and she nods, her shoulder sagging in defeat. I feel a little alarmed at the sight as it’s the first time I’ve seen the fire actually go out in her eyes. She drops the towel, and I go from hard to fucking rock solid hard at her the sight of her incredible body.
“Hands behind your back and on your knees,” I order.
Isabella doesn’t lift her bowed head and does what I ask. About fucking time! I feel the triumph but also a little guilty because she is green to all this, and I’m throwing her in the deep end, making her swim against a considerable current.
But I push the guilt aside. I can’t back down now or show her mercy. Isabella was given an order and my trust when I left the door unlocked. Both of which she disregarded. Fuck! What if we were under attack, and she wouldn’t do as she was told?
Some little nagging dipshit voice at the back of my head whispers but you’re not under attack. But I ignore it and step forward. “Did you want my cock so badly that you disobeyed me?” I taunt her.
