Derision (The Broken Bonds 7)

I’ve always lived my life with a sort of honesty that made others uncomfortable. I believed that I was above cloaking my bad habits in order to provide those little shades of disguise that people crave so badly. But being with Alexis tonight showed me my own pitiful truth.

There’s a monster lurking within me that even I hide from myself.

That’s the most terrifying realization, isn’t it? When you discover an inherent darkness, an innate violence that you didn’t fathom you were capable of.

I didn’t want to stop.

I wanted to brand her body. Carve my nails in her skin and mark her. Fuck her until she bled…to let all others know she’s mine. An animal marking his territory. Spreading my scent all over her and debasing her in the worst way.

Even now, the chill sweeps over me, the moment long gone but not fully abandoned. I latch on to the small comfort that I did not abuse her—that I stopped. I did leash the monster. But the pressing fear still lurks. The question of next time…

The Arlington skyline is dark, rolling with ink-swollen clouds as the night is lit with a dusting of hazy lights. I stand before the long window, hands curled into fists by my sides, waiting to hear the shower cut off so I can take my next breath.

Instead of bringing Alexis back to my place, I’ve secured my private room in the hotel for the night. This way, I won’t be tempte

d to chastise her further. Right now, it would result in releasing my frustrations, and the thought of other guests hearing her screams curbs some of the temptation.

Some.

With any other woman, I doubt I would’ve cared to see Mason’s hands all over the whore. In fact, I probably would’ve enjoyed watching her squirm, wishing I’d touch her with such rapt interest.

I’ve never cared before. Not for any of them. And I’m not sure now if what I feel for Alexis is concern or just my greedy nature. The events of this week—Malcolm Bates’ trial and the partners trying to establish their dominance—has left me edgy and conflicted by my own thoughts.

I’m not easily confused. I’ve always known what I want, and known how to get it. I’ve never questioned myself. I was born who I am; I was not nurtured into this beast. I didn’t have uncaring, abusive parents. Just the opposite. My home life was normal, with an average, happy childhood.

My parents live in a grand home in the Hamptons where I visit them on holidays.

So when the question comes…as I know it will eventually…when Alexis desires to know why my interests and appetites are so extreme, there will be no answer good enough for her.

That bothers me more than it should.

I hear the water shut off, and finally, my lungs expel a tense breath.

Sinking my hands into my pockets, I turn to face her as she opens the bathroom door. Dressed in the black silk nighty I selected from the clothes Jefferson delivered, she’s wringing out her long hair out a towel. Her steps falter as she meets my eyes.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, which tastes awkward on my tongue. I never ask, and I never care. But I need to know that she can handle my desires.

She blinks a few times, as if stunned by my question, then tosses the towel over a chair. “I’m all right. Thank you.”

The pressure on my chest eases some, and I nod toward the bed nearest her. “You’ll sleep here tonight, then I’ll arrange for Jefferson to take you home in the morning.” I walk toward the other bed and remove my suit jacket. “Tomorrow, go to Julia. She’ll show you to your office—”

“Office?” she interrupts, and immediately realizes her mistake. Her head bows as she mutters, “Sorry, sir.”

For some reason, my chest pangs at her response. “Chase,” I correct, unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it off. “Remember? When alone, that’s fine. You’re such a fast learner, though.” I give her a smile, which seems to lighten her dejected countenance.

“As I was saying—” I strip off my pants, needing to be rid of the binding clothes “—your office. It’s a few doors down from mine, and I’ll have your assignments prepared for you when you arrive. Julia will help you get situated, but you can come to me with any questions.” I stall near the edge of the bed, turn toward her. “I have no doubt that you’ll do well in this position. You’ve worked hard, Alexis. You do deserve this promotion.”

She tucks her feet beneath her, sitting so casually on the bed it makes my chest ache at the beautiful sight of her. With each softly spoken word, she seems to come alive a little more. Oddly, it encourages me to say more—to want to see this side of her.

“Always let me know what you need,” I say as I pull back the comforter and slip into bed. “I’ll take care of you.”

Before I reach toward the lamp, she eases off the bed and approaches mine, her steps as timid as her downturned gaze.

“I need to feel you next to me,” she says, her voice breathy, unsure.

Against my better judgment, I peel back the sheets, welcoming her into my bed. I should be stern, teaching her her place. But I can see she needs more aftercare than I’ve offered her thus far.

I don’t think it was my brutality in taking her tonight that has shaken her. It was more the display on which I put her. Stripped nude before her subordinates. Made to perform sexually with women before an audience—which I have no doubt she has never experienced.