Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
But he’s never looked at me like he wanted to tear me to pieces before.
It’s the pool table. The stupid, expensive pool table. He’s going to fire me, not for getting myself off in his house, but for doing it on his godforsaken pool table.
And I’ll have ruined my life for nothing.
What am I going to do? My parents are both retired, and as it turns out, they don’t have much in the way of savings. That was a real kick to the face and a phone call I really hate thinking about. My mother’s voice on the other end of the line, sounding sad and small. Your father took care of all this… but he doesn’t remember anymore and I’m just so confused about it…
I’m responsible for them. It’s messed up, but it’s true. Even with all the assistance they’re eligible for, my father’s care isn’t cheap. I’ve been making it work but mostly because Prime gives me absurdly high raises every year. I didn’t go to college and there’s no way I’ll find a job making what I do now.
I’m screwed. My parents are screwed.
All because I diddled myself on a pool table.
I slink out of the game room. I listen carefully near the steps, but I don’t hear any voices, not the tell-tale moans of pleasure I expect. Even angry, I figure Prime will still get what he wants from that girl. She’s clearly up for it. I do the long walk of shame toward the kitchen where my bag’s waiting in the corner, fortunately still mostly packed. I’ll grab it and get the hell out of here—
Instead of an empty room, I find my boss looming beside the island, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
That look again. It’s like he’s struggling now to stalk across the room. He probably wants to slap me across the face for ruining his precious felt. He hates me now, and I don’t blame him. I knew he loved that stupid table and I spread my legs and touched myself anyway, like the total idiot I am.
“Where’s the girl?” I blurt out despite myself, mostly to fill the deeply uncomfortable silence. Hopefully it prompts him to get this firing over with so I can get the heck out of here before I spontaneously combust.
“Gone.” He takes a long sip.
“You sent her home?” That surprises me. I’ve never seen Prime pass up the opportunity to get his dick wet before.
I study him, trying to figure out what’s going on. He’s in dark slacks with an expensive and stylish white shirt tucked into them. The front two buttons are undone and the sleeves are rolled up showing off dark ink. A gold Rolex glitters on his wrist. Those honey-brown eyes rake me up and down like he’s trying to make sure I’m actually dressed this time. His grip on his glass tightens, knuckles whitening.
He really hates me, doesn’t he?
“She wasn’t happy about it.” His jaw works. “You interrupted my plans.”
“I didn’t know you’d be back this early. Honestly, Mr. Spadaro, I’m so sorry.”
He flinches like I hit him. “Since when did you call me Mr. Spadaro?” His voice is dangerously soft.
I drop my gaze to my feet, lacing my fingers together. “I’m really, really embarrassed right now. Can we please get this over with so I can go home and scream into my pillow?”
“What do you have to be embarrassed about, Deanna?”
I swallow against the lump in my throat and breathe to keep tears from filling my eyes. Prime doesn’t react well to weakness. “Please, I just want to go home.”
“Come here.”
“If I can just get my bag—“
“Deanna,” he says, using his harsh Big Boss voice. “Come here right now.”
I stiffen, trying not to cry out. I shuffle toward him, not sure what he wants. Is he going to punish me too? Demand that I return the phone he bought me last year? I wouldn’t even blame him.
Maybe he just wants to look me in the face as he tells me off. Prime can be cruel sometimes. He’s never done it to me, but I’ve seen him turn his ruthlessness on others and it’s never pretty. Strong men have broken before him.
I have no chance at all.
“You were on my pool table,” he says, but his voice isn’t the rebuke I expected. Still, a shiver runs down my spine as I nod miserably.
“It was stupid. I’m so sorry.”
“Why?”
Screw it. What the hell? I might as well tell him the truth. At this point I have absolutely nothing to lose but the last speck of my pathetic, tattered dignity.
“I was angry,” I admit, wringing my hands miserably, but I force myself to stand still and straight. “I told you I needed this weekend off and you called me in anyway. So I thought I’d… you know… use myself… on the pool table…” I trail off, feeling childish and foolish.