Fuck.
I groan, grabbing one anyway. I am still at Ransome’s penthouse. Of course, I am. Because why wouldn’t I be? It wasn’t a bad dream. The warehouse interrogation, the solitary confinement, and the dinner date that consisted of briny cheese and shitty drinks (becauseBratva women drink gin or vodka as a rule). Oh, and of course a contract to be his girlfriend, including a clause about non-con sex.
Right.
Yeah, no, this is definitely a nightmare.
I dump enough beans into the grinder for a couple days’ worth of coffee, since it looks like I’m going to be here for a while. Luckily, I do know how to use the contraption now. Sometimes, when you’re being held hostage and you’re bored as fuck, you take apart fancy ass espresso machines to figure out how they work so you can at least be caffeinated in your imprisonment.
As I wait for the java to brew, I click my hands on the counter, looking around the room. A room filled with things that look like Ransome and feel like Ransome and even fucking smell like Ransome. And honestly, it’s a little bit funny.
A week ago, I would have killed for this punishment. Seen it as kinky. But in reality, it’s kind of like Alice wanting to leave Wonderland. The only difference is, there’s a King Pin, not a crazed Queen. And he’s not going to let me out no matter how fast I fun.
As I make my way to the bathroom with my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, I press the power button. I was so exhausted from the craziness that is now my real life that I plugged it in but forgot to turn it on.
Crazy enough, I don’t have a lot of texts or missed calls. Sure, it’s only been a day or two. But considering the circumstances, it felt like an eternity spent on another planet after waking up from cryosleep.
A text flashes on the screen as soon as the phone wakes up.
RANSOME: Ivan will be at the penthouse at 7 am sharp to pick you up for work. I expect you won’t be late.
Top of the morning to you, too.
“So the Beast is letting me out of the castle after all,” I mutter. “What a gentleman.”
I clean myself up the best I can. Then I realize that the only outfit I have is the dress from last night.
“Fuck,” I let out. I can only imagine the outrage on Ransome’s face if I show up to work wearing this. It’ll stop every man in every cubicle from the front door to my office.
A smirk tugs at my lips and I squeeze back into it.
After that, I head to the front door. Just as I approach it, the security system beeps and turns green. Then there’s a knock.
I open it to find Ivan, Ransome’s security guard slash driver, standing in the doorway. His eyes dart to my breasts, which this dress showcases very nicely, before straightening out again, landing militantly somewhere behind me.
“Are you ready, Miss?”
“Oh, he talks.”
He says nothing.
I decide not to wait for the miracle to repeat itself. “Ready for part two of my involuntary new life?” I flash him a sarcastic grin. “As I’ll ever be.”
We stop at Legato and I run in and get Ransome’s coffee. I offer to grab something for Ivan, but he doesn’t so much as blink when I ask what he’d like. I take his silence as an answer andkeep rolling. As much as I am opposed to my new job, I can’t help but think about the number of zeroes on the contract.
Besides, old habits die hard. I've been Ransome's assistant longer than I've been binge-watchingGame of Thrones,and even if my job description is different now, I'm not about to let him go without his morning brew. Dick behavior or not.
As soon as Ivan pulls up to the Apex building, I hop out, coffees in hand. I will be damned if he gets here before me. It’s almost like everything is a competition now. Ransome expects me to fail; I can feel it. But fuck that noise. I've been perfect for ages. I can be perfect for six more months.
Heels clacking on the floor, I can feel the eyes on me. I can’t imagine what anyone is thinking. Well, maybe I can. I am sure everyone has seen the TMZ photos which means they know Ransome and I are “together”. So men are eying me like tall glass of water and women are sneering. I can only imagine what they’re saying.
Not that I actually care.
As soon as I get to my office, I sit down at the computer, typing out his schedule and hitting print. While I wait, I take a sip of my latte.
Then my phone rings.
Electra.
