“You will stay here on the weekends,” he stated, not looking up.

I blinked at him, at the matter of fact tone he used while making it clear that his attention was not on me but on his computer screen. My skin prickled from the rapid change in emotional temperature.

“In a room inside my house. But if you wish to move to some ... to safer and more desirable living quarters—something I would prefer—then you can utilize the guest house during weekdays,” he continued.

I gaped at him, which was completely useless since he was still focused on his computer screen and acting as if he was giving someone directions on picking up his dry cleaning instead of essentially asking a woman he was fucking to move in with him. And he did that while in the same breath insulting where I lived, as if my place was a hovel in some kind of badlands instead of a sought after apartment in a very chic part of the city.

Beyond his tone and general disinterest—which I told myself didn’t hurt, trying to convince myself that the prickling at the back of my eyes was from fury—the words themselves pissed me right off. It was fucked up that he was speaking as if all of this was a forgone conclusion. My time slipping out of my hands, no longer my own.

“No,” I asserted.

He paused, looking up. Apparently, my refusal was the key to his attention. My challenge. I needed to remember that. Though I figured I would not need to remind myself to challenge the man who consistently demonstrated that he thought I was his to command.

“I may not have a mansion in Malibu, I may not have the beach at my doorstep, I may have to listen to my neighbors attempting to learn how to tap dance and smell whatever culinary experiment Carl is cooking up on a daily basis. But it’s mine. This ... arrangement is not going to take over my life. It’s not going to change it.”

Jay looked at me for a long time. My skin prickled at the ways his olive-green eyes picked me apart, looking underneath my words.

“It will change your life, Stella. I will change your life. I already have. When this ends, you will spend the rest of your life trying to shake me, but I will live under your skin.”

My knees trembled at the promise, at the way it vibrated through my bones as Jay gave words to the feeling, to the premonition I’d had since that first night at Klutch.

That Jay would change my soul. Shatter it so he could inspect the pieces, take the ones that appealed to him the most, discarding the rest. Eventually leaving, forcing me to put myself together in a way that meant I’d forever be disfigured without him.

I was intact now. Still whole. Just barely. He’d only created cracks so far. They’d heal if I walked away right now. This was my last chance to escape without ending up irreparably damaged.

Jay stared at me, as if he knew this, as if he was waiting for me to turn and leave.

I stayed put.

Jay didn’t betray any kind of relief or happiness that I’d remained, just looked back to the computer. “The weekdays are you own, then. But the weekends are mine.”

I swallowed. “What does that mean? Am I chained by the ankle to your bed from Saturday on?”

Jay glanced up to me again. “Sometimes.”

My pussy clenched at the very thought, though I should have been appalled. I shouldn’t have liked the idea of being chained up by a man intent on taking my choices away from me. But I did. I wanted his chains.

“The nature of my businesses does not yield to a traditional structure. Therefore, there will be occasions when I am unavailable for most of the day during the weekend. Or the night. But I will expect your presence at the house regardless,” Jay continued.

I chewed on my lip. “What are your businesses?” I asked, deciding if I were to get any information about him, it would be before I argued with him further.

I was curious for information. Any information beyond the fact that he owned a nightclub and used his office in the sky to scout women to proposition. There was more to him than that. I might not know a lot about business, but I knew this man was rich. Very rich. With the kind of wealth that did not come from the profits of a nightclub alone, however lucrative it might be.

Again, he looked up. “My businesses are none of your concern. My life, outside of this arrangement, is none of your concern. If I become aware of you trying to find out anything more about me, this arrangement will be terminated immediately. Understood?” His eyes narrowed, dark brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Tags: Anne Malcom The Klutch Duet Erotic
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