Titan (Dark Kings 1)

“There’s something I need you to watch.”

“Make it quick.” I yawn, feeling my eyes grow heavy. Shit, I drank way too much.

He picks up a remote and turns the monitor on that hangs on the wall. This room fills the screen. It had to have been from earlier because the curtains are pulled back, revealing the sunny afternoon.

My mother’s nurse enters; George sits at the desk.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Wilton?” she asks, placing her hands behind her back.

“Yes, have a seat, Liv.” He gestures to the chair that I’m now sitting in.

She does so and crosses her legs over one another. Liv has to be in her early fifties. Light brown hair that match her eyes. She wears very little makeup and blue scrubs.

“I’m going to have to let you go,” he tells her.

“Excuse me?” She sits up straighter.

“I am unable to afford your rates,” he says simply.

“You can’t do that,” I whisper, but he ignores me.

“But Nancy needs around-the-clock care,” she argues.

He stands from his seat. “This is not up for discussion, Olivia. This is me announcing your termination.” He flips off the monitor.

My heavy eyes look up at him. He has a look of satisfaction on his smug face.

“You son of a bitch.” I manage to get out without slurring.

He smirks, placing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I told you; I control everything.”

“Hire her back,” I order, managing to stand to my feet. I still hold my heels in my right hand.

He tilts his head to the side. “Now all of a sudden you care about her.”

“Fuck you …”

“Because if I remember correctly, earlier you yelled at her and then stormed out of this house.”

“You can’t do this!” I shout, feeling my shaking legs threaten to buckle under me.

Stepping around the desk, he comes up to me. He reaches out to cup my cheek, but I slap it away. “You’re right, you know. She does need her nurses.”

She has two who take turns coming to the house to care for her. She can barely get out of bed, let alone take care of herself. I can’t do it. I have to make money to try to get us away from this sorry son of a bitch.

“Then hire them back,” I demand, guessing he fired them both.

“That can be arranged. If …” He trails off, and I know where this is going. He’s making a point that he owns us.

“If what?” I ask, swallowing. I can still taste the vodka in my mouth. Funny, I thought I had too many shots, but now I feel like I didn’t have enough.

He sighs heavily. “See, I don’t care if you go out and party with your friends, but you realize that I have the control here, Emilee.” He steps into me. “You will acknowledge that what I say goes.”

“What do you want?” I ask, already knowing the answer. He made it very clear earlier this morning in my father’s office, but I have to ask. Maybe he’s changed his mind and wants something else.

“You.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek.

Vomit fills my mouth, but I swallow it down.

He leans in, whispering in my ear, “Remove that dress and your underwear, then bend over the desk, and Liv will be back here first thing in the morning.”

I fist my hands as tears sting my eyes. I don’t have a choice. I’m fucked. Literally. We both know it. If my mom dies because she didn’t have a nurse here, it will be my fault. And I refuse to have her death on my hands. He may win this round, but I will win the war.

I pull away from him, and his hands fall to his side.

Dropping my heels to the floor, I grip the hem of my dress and pull it up and over my head.

“Beautiful.” He reaches out and touches my stomach.

I jump back. “I can’t …”

“Shh.” He reaches out and yanks me to him. He places his free hand over my mouth, silencing me. “I told you that you were going to willingly spread those legs for me, Emilee. And I always get what I want.”

My eyes are heavy and my mind foggy from all the alcohol I’ve consumed. But I’m still very aware of what is about to happen and how right he is.

CHAPTER TWO

EMILEE

I STAND AT the bar waiting for the bartender to look my way for me to order another drink. I know I’m not an eye-catching woman, but hello, over here, douche!

I have my tits out. What else do I need to do to get a fucking drink? Remove my shirt and throw it in his face? Stand on the bar and shake my ass?

The guy at the end of the bar has seemed to notice me. He keeps staring at me, and I’ve made it a point to avoid eye contact.