The Boss (Chateau 3)

She winced and gave a quiet cry when I forced myself deeper. There was nowhere for me to go, but I did it anyway, my dick out of my control. But she drew me into her body like my release was more important than her temporary discomfort.

I finished with my face pressed into her neck, kissing her as the last wisp of pleasure faded, as my dick softened because it’d finally had enough. I pulled out of her then rolled over, getting to my side of the bed and immediately closing my eyes.

Her breathing quieted over the next few minutes. She continued to lie there, her skin shining from my sweat, my come between her thighs and on the sheets beneath her. When her breaths became quieter and drawn-out, I knew she’d fallen asleep.

My eyes opened, and I looked at my lit bedroom, the windows a mirror because they reflected the light coming from the sconces and chandelier. A million things went through my mind—all the shit I had to do tomorrow, an email I got from Magnus right when I walked through the door. My head turned farther to look at the woman beside me, in the exact same position I’d left her, as if this were the first time she’d truly slept since arriving here.

Dark makeup had stained her pillow, and my bed smelled like sex with a hint of her floral perfume. Her lips were neutral because the color had disappeared on my chest and neck. Her fair skin was unblemished, like she hadn’t just spent weeks as forced labor in the camp in the middle of the wilderness near the French Alps. Her perfection was eternal.

I left the bed and put on my boxers before I scooped her into my arms and carried her down the stairs to her bedroom. She was barely covered by the black nightgown, her perfect curls now messy from my possessive fingers. My arms were used to lifting bars with weight plates stacked to capacity, so she literally felt like a feather to me, a single barbell.

I placed her on the bed and draped the blanket folded at the corner on top of her before I left.

“Fender?” Her quiet whisper was cracked, as if she’d been asleep for hours rather than minutes.

I turned back around at the door, prepared to flip off the light and depart.

She took a quick scan and realized she was in her bedroom. “Why…why did you bring me here?”

I was in no mood to explain myself. I walked out and ignored her question.

I sat in my office across from Liam, one of my top guys. With blond hair and blue eyes, he was a young guy, nearly seven years younger than me, but he was eager, obedient, and most importantly, quiet.

I stared him down. “Explain.” I sat in my leather armchair with gold buttons in the stitching along the sides, my large carved desk in front of me, windows all along the wall from one corner to the next. A full sitting area was on the rug in the center, several couches and armchairs, a large mantel with a fire that was big enough to roast a whole pig on a spit.

“Charles said he’s been having issues with his men—”

“No.” I straightened in my chair and leaned forward, one of my heavy arms resting on the shiny surface of the preserved wood, a relic of my noble ancestors. “Don’t explain why he hasn’t paid. Explain why he’s still alive.”

Liam stilled at my command, his blue eyes showing a brief hesitance. “It’s only been a day—”

“If it’d only been a minute, that would be enough. Tell me when it’s done.”

“He’s one of our biggest distributors—”

“You think I give a damn?” I instantly blew up, spittle flying from my mouth and sprinkling the desk with my outburst. “Everyone wants to do business with me. You know why? Because I don’t fucking play games. If I say I’m gonna do something, I fucking do it. You don’t pay me, you die. That simple. I made that very clear when he signed his contract.”

“His men were hit by somebody. Bad blood—”

“Don’t. Fucking. Care.”

Liam finally shut his mouth.

“Now that you’re done wasting my time, go do your job.”

My elbows were on the desk as I stared at my laptop, my hands together in front of my mouth, my eyes combing through the columns to make sure every single ounce was accounted for. Magnus did his own measurements at the camp and sent them to me securely, so we would always be able to track every single grain from start to finish. If someone was disloyal, we would find out. It’d only happened once, and it never happened thereafter because the men never forgot that brutal execution.

People were only honest if you gave them no other option but to be honest.