Resist

From the sounds of things, Mr. Murphy doesn’t tolerate much.

As soon as she leaves, I decide to take a nap. I reach for my phone and set an alarm for 11:45, because the last thing I want to do is make a bad first impression. I’m actually surprised I wasn’t asked to hand in my laptop and cell before I entered his premises—considering how seriously he takes his privacy. I actually called my mother before starting the job because I figured I’d be out of contact long enough for her to notice.

Unbuttoning my jacket, I discard it on the bed and walk around the room, examining everything. I’m hoping for a clue about who Jaxon is—anything that will help me understand him better. I laugh, because I don’t know why I’m expecting to find anything in a bedroom on the opposite end of the mansion from his room—not that I have any idea where his room actually is.

What I need is to find out exactly what is expected of me here. Other than a basic description of what my duties might entail and a roster that puts me on shift today through Friday and the same days next week, I have no idea how this is all going to play out.

I already know I’m not the only girl working for him. He said as much during my interview, and Marina just confirmed that by saying I’d meet the others later. Maybe they’re my in. If I can just get one of them to talk to me, I’ll have an idea of what to look for.

Sighing, I collapse onto the bed, the luxurious sheets caressing my skin. I yawn, realizing how tired I am. I spent most of last night researching Jaxon and going over my old college paper that I did on him. When I had finally tried to sleep, all I could picture was him and the mound of circumstantial evidence against him. My mind wouldn’t shut off.

I check my alarm again before finally giving in to the call of sleep. A pang of guilt hits me, but I quickly shrug it off. He did tell me to relax.

—

“You’re late.” Jaxon sits in his chair, deep in thought as he reads through the stack of papers in front of him. He doesn’t look up or seem that interested in my arrival, other than to point out my tardiness. I glance at the clock on his wall, almost laughing when I see it’s 12:01. Marina wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry. I…It won’t happen again.”

My face heats as he lifts his eyes to mine. They blaze right through me and I find myself wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m getting into something that is way out of my depth.

Jess’s words ring in my head. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. I’m in control, not him. Even as I repeat them to myself, I have trouble believing them. I can’t imagine finding the words to say no to this guy. I’m not even sure that I’d want to. He sparks a curiosity deep inside me that I didn’t even know existed.

“Sit,” he says, motioning to the chair facing his desk.

I do, my heart racing as he studies me. His every stare is full of suggestion and mystery, and it scares me that I can’t read him. He leans back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing on me.

“Is your room to your satisfaction?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

I nod as his gaze burns throu

gh me. “It’s much nicer than what I was expecting,” I reply.

He chuckles. “And what exactly were you expecting, Ms. Lucas? Chains and a dungeon? Don’t worry, that will come later.”

My stomach lurches. I can’t tell from his expression whether he’s joking or serious.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

I swallow hard, wondering what he has in mind. Kinky sex in his office? He definitely seems like the rough, dominant type. I have no idea how I’m supposed to “challenge” him, and frankly he doesn’t exactly give off the vibe that he even wants that.

“Do you have what I asked you to bring?”

I nod and push the envelope across the desk to him. I yank my hand back before he notices how much I’m shaking. He opens the envelope and reads through the papers, nodding his head.

An employment form, my banking details, and, most important, a very recent clean STD report.

“May…may I see your STD report?” I ask.

He looks up at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I—”

“By all means, Ms. Lucas,” he interrupts. “I admire your commitment to your health. You’d be surprised at how many women simply take my word for it.” He reaches into the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet and retrieves a form, pushing it across the desk. “I am tested every month, and I expect the same from my girls. I also expect you to be on birth control, because I do not use condoms. If that is a problem…”

I shake my head, a blush creeping over my neck as his eyes bore into me.

“I have an implant,” I say numbly, pointing to my forearm where a tiny scar lies.