“Our conversation is important,” I counter.

  “Something more important,” she says, her eyes flashing at me.

  Good girl.

  The thought comes unbidden when she challenges me.

  I wonder what she’d do to me if she pleased me.

  I love the pretty way her eyes glow when she’s mad.

  You’re so pretty when you’re angry.

  “I see. And now you’re late?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “You know, they make these things called calendars,” I tell her with a frown. She really should get her act together. “And smartphones with reminders.”

  “Do they?” she asks, her head tipped to the side. “And they also make these things called douches. Do you know what they are? They’re used to—”

  But the door to the bookstore opens and she clamps her mouth shut.

  This time, I do speak it out loud. Taking a step closer to her, I whisper, “Good girl. You really do not want to complete that sentence, do you, Cora?” Leaning in, I let my thumb brush her delicate collarbone, when I whisper, “Or did you forget? What it felt like to be strewn over my lap, helpless, while I spanked you?”

  “Oh God,” she whispers, shaking her head, but I can feel her trembling. “Please.”

  “Please, what? Make you come again?” I shake my head and tsk like I’m scolding an errant child. “No, sweetheart. Not unless you beg. And only good girls get rewards.”

  Huffing out a breath, she turns from me, but I can see it takes some effort. “I have to go,” she whispers. I almost regret being a jerk.

  “Tell me,” I order.

  “No, I—”

  “Now,” I insist in my sternest tone. Christ, the woman would do well with a folded belt across her ass.

  People call me convincing. Persuasive.

  I get what I want.

  “Parent-teacher night,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “I promised Bailey I would be there, and it’s just starting. By the time I can get a ride…”

  I’m not thinking straight. I should let her go. I should walk away. Hell, I shouldn’t even be here.

  I’ve let my impulses run crazy, like wild stallions, and I’m losing self-control. Losing? Hell, I’ve already lost it.

  “I have a driver,” I tell her. “He’ll take you. Let’s go.”

  “What?” she sputters. “I can’t—”

  I give her an angry glare. “Why not? You’ve been in my car before. And you’re already late.”

  Worrying her lip, she glances around the store. I can see when she finally makes the decision, for the wrinkles on her forehead soften, and she casts her eyes down.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Go tell your boss,” I say. “But we need to go now if we’re going to get there on time.”

  She wastes no time in running to the front of the store. After a quick conversation with Marla, who looks my way warily but nods, she grabs her bag and runs to me.

  “Thank you,” she says. “I’m… thank you,” she repeats.

  “You’re welcome,” I tell her.

  “Is this a truce?” she asks.

  Damn, she’s cute. “Yeah,” I say with a smirk. “Cease fire.”

  For the first time since I’ve met her, she smiles, and hell if it isn’t gorgeous.

  I lead her to where my car waits and flick the button so the screen comes down between the back and front cab.

  “Where to, sir?”

  I jerk my head at her. “Wherever she needs to go.”

  When she gives him the name of the closest high school, I blink in surprise.

  Why a high school? Cora has some explaining to do.

  I don’t know why I want to know these things. I don’t know why I have to ask her. But I like to know exactly what hand I’m playing.

  Flicking the button to make the divider go back up again, I turn to her.

  “So, you’re going to parent-teacher night. Why?”

  Cora sits awkwardly, twisting her hands in her lap, but she meets my eyes without blinking.

  “My mom was an alcoholic who died about six months ago in prison. She and my dad didn’t grow up around here, but she relocated after my dad was killed overseas.”

  “Overseas?”

  “He was in the military,” she explains. “Naval officer. After losing him, my mom… made some very bad choices.”

  “I see.”

  “So, I fought for, and won, custody of Bailey and Ben.”

  I know who Bailey is. “Ben?”

  “My brother.”

  Shit. She’s the guardian of two children, she’s a college student, and holds down two jobs?

  I could change her life without blinking an eye.

  No.

  I don’t give to charity causes like hers. I give to places that will benefit my career. I don’t believe in handouts. And I don’t get involved with women saddled with children.

  Why am I letting her get to me?

  “So that’s it.”

  “And you work at Verge because…”

  Leaning forward, she lowers her voice. “I work at Verge because I like the people there. I… have never scened with anyone, and I don’t plan to. I don’t even want to.”

  Oh, but the way her cheeks pink tell another story.

  I nod but can’t help smirking a little. I try to hide it, but she notices.

  “Don’t laugh at me,” she says through gritted teeth. “Please. That was a… momentary lapse in judgment, and I regret it.”

  I don’t respond at first, just tap my knee. Suggesting. When her eyes travel to my hand on my knee, she flushes a deeper shade of pink and looks away. God, I’m an asshole, but I can’t help teasing her.

  “I… I don’t want to make a mistake that could cost me custody,” she blurts out. “Ever.”

  “Bailey’s how old again?” I ask.

  “Fourteen,” she says. “Not long and she’ll be an adult herself.”

  “And Ben?”

  “Ten.”

  I inhale deeply and let the breath out slowly, drumming my fingers on my lap while I look out the window, before I turn to her. “That’s a lot on your plate, Cora.”

  Let me take some of that off for you.

  No. No way.

  “It is, but I do fine,” she says.

  “Do you?” I wonder. Reaching for her chin, I turn her gaze to mine. I like the soft feel of her skin beneath my fingers. The way she looks at me with slightly parted lips, unaccustomed to the tender gesture. “When was the last time you ate a decent meal, Cora?”

  Swallowing, she tries to look away, but a sharp pull on her chin keeps her gaze locked on mine.

  “I don’t need to eat much,” she says. “I’m too chubby as it is.”

  A growl rises in my chest. “Don’t you ever fucking say a thing like that to me again. If you were mine, I’d turn you over my knee for a comment like that.”

  With her chin held vulnerable in my grasp, the way she swallows is clear. “I’m not yours,” she whispers.

  Not yet.

  “Answer the question.”

  Sighing, she finally whispers. “It’s been a very long time. But I get by.”

  I’ll feed her tonight, then let her go.

  As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I release her chin. She’s not a stray dog I found on the street who can eat my table scraps and scamper into the night.

  Christ.

  Why do I want the one thing I can’t have?

  We pull up to the school and I wave my hand. “Go,” I tell her. “Be as quick as you can. I’m assuming you have a shift at Verge tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then make it quick if we’re getting food before you go.”

  But she doesn’t move. She stares at me until I snap my fingers and point to the door.

  “Don’t try me, woman.” I’m out of patience, but what she doesn’t know is that I’m mad at myself, not her.

  Without another word, she’s gone.

  When the door shuts, I groan.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Five

  Cora

  I should not be taking handouts from him.

  I should not.

  But how can I let my pride get in the way of keeping me from what I really need? I screwed up tonight. I promised Bailey I would go and meet every one of her teachers.

  I tell myself to stop thinking about the fact that he’s waiting for me.

  To stop thinking about the fact that after I’m finished here, he’s buying me dinner. My stomach aches with hunger. I’ve had nothing but a bowl of oatmeal since eight o’clock this morning, and it was plain, so it didn’t even taste good.

  I need to stop thinking how he made my pulse race with just the reminder of how he took me over his lap.

  God. I’m getting in too deep, and I don’t even know his name.

  All eyes are on me as I step out of his massive black car that looks like it belongs in the rich part of town, instead of the high school.

  “Well, well, well,” someone mutters, but when I turn to see who it is, they’re already gone.

  I’m half angry at myself for letting him take me, and half shocked at my luck. What did I do to deserve a man like him taking care of me?

  But the better question is… what will he expect in return?

  I go to get my phone out of my bag when I remember my phone is broken, and I haven’t had the time or money to replace it since that night a week ago.

  Has it been so long?

  Instead, I take the crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket with Bailey’s schedule on it, and glance at the time on the huge round clock on the wall. It wasn’t so long ago I went to this very school myself, and I know this place like the back of my hand.

  I go to her first class, and though the young English teacher looks surprised when she sees me, she has nothing but good things to say about Bailey. The second class goes much the same as the first, but when I get to the third, freshman Biology, I find the door locked. I stand back and look at the number on the door.

  Yep. I’m at the right place. Then why is no one here? I look up and down the crowded hall, when I finally see a tall, lanky guy with a tweed jacket and glasses perched on his nose approach me.

  Something in me grows sad. I’ve never asked Bailey anything about her teachers. I don’t know what they look like, who’s nice, what they wear or how they treat her. I glance at her grades, but they’re good, and I’ve never done anything beyond that.

  Her whole life has changed, and I don’t even realize until her teacher opens the classroom door, that I’ve failed her. Like I fail everyone. Marla tonight, because I had to bail on my shift. Ben, because he’s been asking me to play a game of chess for a damn month.

  I have no time. How can I do everything that I’m supposed to?

  I blame the hunger for making my eyes water. This is so stupid. I shake my head and enter the classroom.

  “Hi,” I say brightly, extending my hand. The teacher takes it and shakes.

  “Hi,” he says. “You do know this is parent-teacher night, right? Students aren’t supposed to be here.”

  My traitorous pale cheeks flame. “I’m—I’m guardian to Bailey Myers,” I tell him.

  Frowning, he pulls out a paper on his desk and looks at it. “I see. Forgive me, Ms…”

  “Cora Myers,” I supply.

  “Forgive me, Ms. Myers, but you look a bit young to be guardian to a young woman in high school.”

  “Of course,” I say, my temperature rising. “I have custody of Bailey after the death of my mother. And I came here tonight to touch base with each of her teachers. Do you have any concerns?”

  I want to leave. I hate how little he makes me feel, like I’m barely old enough to know my ABC’s, much less raise a teenager.

  And hell, if he isn’t right.

  We talk about Bailey and her grades, but before I leave, he apparently thinks it’s his duty to give me a little advice.

  Lucky me.

  “I admire your courage, Ms. Myers,” he tells me. “It’s difficult at your age to make the right decisions.”

  “It’s difficult at any age to make the right decisions,” I reply. I hate when people look down on me because of my age. My mother made shit decisions, and she was a lot older than I am. Gathering up my papers and bag with a smile plastered to my face, I get up to leave. It’s none of his damn business.

  “Certainly,” he says with a nod. “Just be sure you don’t make a decision that will jeopardize what matters to you.”

  Who the hell is he?

  I finally leave his class and look in chagrin at my sheet. There are two more classes I need to visit, and he’s waiting for me. In his private car. What sort of bizarre situation is this?

  I don’t even know his name.

  God. How can I not even know his name? I need to find out who he is.

  For a minute, I contemplate running. Going out the back door and catching a cab to Verge and leaving Mr. High and Mighty to his own devices. But then I think better of it. I don’t need to make any enemies.

  I go through the motions for the next classes and wish I didn’t have to work tonight. I want to go home and see Bailey and Ben. Play that game of chess with Ben and talk to Bailey about meeting all her teachers, which one’s funny, which one’s grumpy, and how her math teacher is really kinda cute. But I can’t. I have to work again, and God if that doesn’t burn.

  So, by the time I go outside, I half expect the stranger to be gone, but he isn’t. The black car still waits for me. I feel a bit like Cinderella making my way toward him. Any minute, the clock will strike midnight, and the car turn into an enchanted pumpkin.

  I’m lightheaded with hunger, and tired. I’ve done so much today already, I’m exhausted.

  Food will be good. I just have to play nice for a little while. I can’t let my mouth ruin everything, like I usually do.

  When I reach the car, I tap on the window awkwardly. What else am I supposed to do? I blink to myself when Manuel comes to my side of the car, bows, and opens the door for me.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, before I slide myself into the car.

  “Took a while,” he mutters, glancing at that god-awful Rolex.

  “Well, she’s taking six classes,” I say. “And the school’s big. You didn’t have to wait.”

  He frowns and issues a command to the driver.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask him. “And… um… one more question.”

  Turning to face me with those vibrant blue eyes locked on mine, he quirks a lip up at me. “Yeah?”

  “What’s your name?”

  To my surprise, he doesn’t answer at first. Stroking his chin contemplatively, he shakes his head.

  “Most women call me sir.”

  I literally guffaw. “I, sir, do not.” I snort with derision.

  “You just did,” he says, and the man actually smiles. My heart does a crazy little patter in my chest at the sight of him smiling. Honest to God, I thought he was gorgeous when he scowled. When he smiles…

  “You didn’t answer the question,” I prod.

  “We’re getting pizza,” he says. “Next time, I’ll give you fair warning so you can put on something a little more appropriate, and I’ll take you to a nicer place.”

  “I love pizza,” I blurt out. “It’s like my favorite thing.” I can’t stop my mouth, and I say one stupid thing after another.

  “Yeah? Have you ever eaten it on a rooftop?”

  “Hell no, I haven’t. Shut up! Are you kidding me?” I smack his chest, but he pinches my wrist between his fingers and glides it down the silky suit jacket.

  “No hitting, little girl,” he says, the humor fading, and in its place, a dangerous, predatory look lurks in his eyes. My sudden attempt at being lighthearted fades.

  Little girl does funny things to my chest. I like that he makes me feel little. Hearing him say it? I like that even more.

  “And no, I’m not kidding,” he says. “There’s a place near Verge that serves rooftop pizza cooked in brick ovens.”

  “Wait, wait. Is this a date?”

  A smile ghosts his lips again. “No. If it were a date, I’d have to kiss you.”

  Flushing a bit, I shrug a shoulder. “You say it as if it were a chore.”

  The heat in the inside of the car is suddenly sweltering. God, what is wrong with me? I’m flirting with him and this guy’s a jerk. He’s bossy and rich and arrogant as fuck, and I’m joking about—I don’t know—I have no idea what I’m…

  Because he’s running his fingers through my hair, gentle pressure on the back of my head pulling me closer to him. He smells so good, the way I’d imagine the men on the cover of glossy magazines to smell, a gentle yet seductive masculine scent that makes me feel all feminine and pretty. I don’t know what to do with my hands, they’re awkward and clumsy, but soon I forget everything.

  Everything but his lips on mine.

  The electricity between the two of us hums like mad, as if our pulses are fused together. I’m soft, so soft, malleable and silky when I’m in his arms like this. I’ve kissed boys before, but I’ve never been kissed like this.

  Kissed by a man who wants me.

  Kissed by a man who takes what he wants.

  I don’t even know how it happens, but I’m flat on my back on my seat, my wrists captured in his strong fingers, gentle but firm like silken cuffs. I’m moaning, sinking, under his spell. I’ve lost all control.

  I like that.

  When he pulls away his eyes are electric, and he’s panting slightly.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispers.

  I’m affecting him, too, and the knowledge is a mini victory.

  “Your name,” I whisper back.

  “If I tell you my name, you promise me you won’t run,” he says. His tone grows harsh. “Promise.”

  An order.

  I swallow, my pulse suddenly racing.

  “Do it,” I whisper. “I promise.”

  A beat passes before he speaks again. “My name is Liam Alexander.”

  I close my eyes and groan.

  Six

 

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