“I’m midway through replacing her nanny, so need someone to spend time with her, and she likes you.”
“Who doesn’t?” I chew on my thumbnail. “You know, I’m not good with kids. I’ve never spent a lot of time around them.”
“She doesn’t need someone who’s great with children. She needs someone she trusts and who has her best interests at heart. That’s you.”
“Yeah, but…” I twist my face into a variety of expressions, searching for the one that’ll fit. “Shouldn’t she have someone experienced in trauma and stuff?”
“I’m not asking you to be her psychologist. Just play with her. Maybe take her for a walk or read a book.”
The suggestions sound innocent, but I can see a myriad of ways it could go horribly wrong.
What if she exhibits behaviours that I should tell someone about, but I don’t because I can’t tell the difference between that and being a normal kid? What if she’s a horrible little brat and I can’t stand being in the same room for more than two seconds?
I’m sure there are more reasons than that not to do it.
We’re halfway along a corridor when Baxter says, “Fifty thousand,” bringing me out of my reverie.
“Hm?”
Baxter stops and manoeuvres me until my back hits the wall. He’s so tall I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He strokes a finger along the side of my face, tracing the line of my jaw. With his eyes sparking fire, he rubs his thumb along my bottom lip.
Blood pumps so loudly through my ears that I can’t hear anything else. My eyes drop to his chest as he moves closer, trapping me as he places his free hand against the wall.
“You asked what your allowance would be to replace”—he plucks my t-shirt between his fingers—“these. Fifty thousand a month.”
“Dollars?” My voice is tiny. I don’t even know how to process this information. That’s my annual salaryafterthe raise.
“If you need more, ask me.” He moves his hand lower, twisting his wrist until his fingers are evenly spaced along my collarbone. “And ask Meri about jewellery. We have accounts with a few private dealers. They’ll have something for you.”
When I swallow, my windpipe vibrates against his hand. “I don’t know anything about jewellery.”
“She can teach you. Or if you prefer, I can pick out some pieces. Would you like that?”
I nod, holding my body so tightly that the movement is barely noticeable.
But Baxter notices. He seems attuned to every gesture I make.
“If I do select pieces, the only rule is you must wear them. You must wear anything that I choose for you, otherwise, all my effort is wasted. You understand.”
Another small nod.
His mouth drops to my ear. “Perhaps a choker? Would you like that?” His fingers tighten around my throat and my body feels like it’s melting into a puddle on the ground.
“Answer me.”
His lower body presses against mine, the hard length of his cock rubbing against me with delicious friction. I stand on tiptoe, so it hits more squarely against my throbbing centre, but he shifts away, and I gasp at the loss.
“Did I tell you to move?” The soft-voiced question rumbles from his chest like a prelude to trouble.
“N-no.” I lick my lips, they’re pulsing so hard and hot they feel too dry. The opposite to what’s happening farther down.
“Then don’t move.” I feel his mouth shift closer, breathing against my ear, the lips just brushing the lobe. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
There was a question?
My mind skates around in circles, trying to find the tangled end of the conversation while my body fills with cravings for something I definitely don’t need in my life.
“Yes?”
