Page 17 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“But what?” he says, stepping closer, blood dripping from his hands as he approaches me. “Your beauty will have people turning heads wherever you go. Your face will buy you any opportunity, big or small, but you’ll be overlooked as a result. Is that what you want? For your brain to be the least interesting part about you?”

I frown, unsure where he is going with this.

“Miss Bennett?”

“No, sir,” I cough. “I would like to think I earned my place here because of my brain.”

“Indeed, you did,” he says while dragging his eyes up and down my body.

Despite the dirty looks this man keeps giving me, I believe him. Mr. Moretti, unlike most billionaires who have too much time on their hands, is straight to the point, not one for playing games and messing people around. Meetings are wrapped up promptly because he always has somewhere more important to be, another crisis to avert. I never know the details, but I do know that Mr. Moretti hires people for their brains, not for their faces. The entire cast of Victoria’s Secret would be strutting the halls otherwise.

I nibble my lip, staring at the blood-soaked resignation letter. “Sir, about Friday.”

“I would like us to come to an arrangement,” he says, his thick Italian accent sending shivers across my skin. “If you are on board, of course.”

“An arrangement?”

“Oh, Miss Bennett, you were doing so well,” he tuts. “Use that brain of yours and think about what arrangement I could be referring to. Playing dumb is not a good look for you.” He steps even closer, his hot breath bristling my neck, sending countless shivers down my spine. “I want to fuck my pretty little assistant’s pussy as many times as she will let me.”

My breath catches in my throat as I look up into his dangerous eyes. I am so fucking deep in the trouble.

“Have a think about my offer,” he says, murmuring in the shell of my ear. “I want to make sure you are all hands on deck before we move things to the next level.”

5

OPHELIA

I dump my purse on the couch as soon as I make it back home. The board meeting went swiftly, the rest of the day relatively drama free, excluding Sandra who looked like she wanted to kill me when I cancelled her morning meeting with Mr. Moretti.

My phone rings with an incoming call from Sapphire.

“Well?” she says when I hit answer. “What did you tell him?” This girl is even more invested in the arrangement than my boss is.

“Nothing yet. I’m still deciding.”

“I’m sure he’ll keep everything very private. Mr. Moretti doesn’t seem like the kiss and tell type.”

“No, because he has too many stories to tell and not enough time to tell them,” I say, dragging myself off the couch to find something for dinner. “I may have left one detail out to you earlier…” I say while raiding my freezer. “I’m almost certain Salvatore beat up one of his employees either.”

“How certain?”

“Like, ninety-nine percent,” I cringe, grabbing a box of frozen waffles from the freezer, arranging them on the oven tray.

“Holy shit, Phee. Do you know what this person did?”

“I don’t even know the guy, but he was wearing appropriate Moretti Global uniform, black pants, white shirt; the tie was a little off center for obvious reasons, but he was dressed the part.”

“Insider trading is a very serious criminal offence.”

“So is breaking an employee’s nose and spilling blood.”

“How much blood are we talking?”

“Enough for a part-time Emergency Room nurse like yourself to have some concerns.”

“Shit.” The line goes quiet for a second as Sapphire digests the conversation. “Sleeping with an abusive man could end very fucking badly for you, Phee, not to mention the fact that this dude is your boss. This sounds like a legal nightmare.”

“Or the best time of my life,” I say, sticking the waffles in the oven. “I’m about to have dinner. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”