Under His Command (For His Pleasure, Book 17) (10 page)

She thought about it, hesitating, but unsure why. And then she realized it was because somehow she felt like it would be a betrayal of Easton. But a betrayal of what, exactly? Kennedy asked herself. Easton had spanked her in his office—which was probably a court case if she’d wanted to go that route—but other than that, he’d never said a word about a relationship happening between the two of them.

“That sounds nice,” Kennedy said. “I’d love to go.”

***

A few minutes later the two of them were sitting at a small table beside the window of Thai Garden, an incredibly tiny restaurant that you could easily walk past without noticing. It truly was a hole-in-the-wall, with probably room for no more than six or seven tables in the entire place.

Their main business seemed to be takeout, with plenty of locals coming in and grabbing bags of food, clearly regulars.

Blake studied the menu as an old Thai woman poured them small glasses of water. Kennedy already knew she wanted chicken pad thai for dinner. Maybe she would have some spring rolls too.

Blake looked up at her, smiling crookedly. “Cool place, huh?”

“Very cool.”

“Wait until you taste the food. And the whole meal will cost under twenty bucks.

Not easy to do in New York.”

“Definitely not easy.”

He closed his menu and slid it away from him. “You lived in the city long?”

She shook her head, wondering how much to reveal to him. “I just moved here, actually. What about you? Are you new to the city like me?”

He shook his head. “Grew up in Brooklyn. This is my home, probably always will be. Most people last a few months or a few years, but eventually the city chews them up and spits them out. The lifers are fewer and further between then you’d think.”

Kennedy wondered whether she could ever be a lifer. It would be a badge of honor she decided, to know that she’d survived the rigors of New York City and come out the other side, a veteran, hardened, streetwise, everything she currently wasn’t.

“Do you always ask strangers out to eat at Thai Garden?” she asked, after a moment.

Blake chuckled and looked down, before meeting her eyes once more. “You got me, there. I don’t often ask strangers out to Thai Garden, but when I saw your face—I just couldn’t resist.”

“I swear I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she said, the color rising to her cheeks.

“It’s okay if you were,” he told her. “You’re pretty when you blush, Kennedy.”

“Wow,” she whispered, and was saved when the waitress came over and asked for their orders. After she’d taken them and departed, Kennedy drank some water.

Blake seemed to be studying her face, his intelligent eyes searching for answers.

“You strike me as somebody who moved here to find something particular,” he said, after a time.

His insight made her uncomfortable, striking so close to home. She shifted in her seat. “I suppose I did, but that’s probably a common reason people come to New York City. They’re trying to find a career, trying to get famous…”

“Yeah, but what’s your reason? Work?”

“I did get a new job here, yes.”

“But that’s not really why you moved here, is it?”

She shrugged, pretending he hadn’t once again hit so close to home. “I was an academic, spending my time in dusty old classrooms, reading books, studying cryptic papers. I wanted something more, something real.”

Blake nodded thoughtfully. “You came to the right place, then.”

She smiled at him. “You think so?”

“I do,” he said softly, his eyes unwavering.

***

By the end of the meal, Kennedy felt comfortable with Blake. He was funny, interested in her without being pushy, charming, polite to the waiters (Kennedy was used to academics, many of whom could be very snobby at restaurants to those they thought beneath them), and he was handsome.

As the meal ended, Kennedy was trying to decide if she was attracted to him or not. He was certainly an attractive man, and although he was sensitive, it wasn’t in a wimpy fashion. But at the same time, she didn’t get the feeling of butterflies, of intensity that Easton gave her.

Who says he’s even attracted to you?

When the bill came, Blake threw down some bills. “I’ve got it,” he said, as she went to dig in her purse for cash.

“I can’t let you do that,” she told him.

“Please, I invited you,” he said. “And besides, I’m hoping there’ll be a next time.”

She smiled shyly. “That sounds nice.”

“Maybe you can pick the next restaurant.”

“I don’t know any restaurants.”

“This will give you an excuse to find one. We’ll discover New York together.”

As he said the words, he seemed to understand the implication and his smile faltered. It was a statement of intent, and it carried a heaviness that Kennedy sensed he might not have wanted to impart so early in their relationship.

“I’d like that,” she told him, wanting him to know how much she appreciated his generosity.

His smile returned. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said, standing up. They left the restaurant and made their way out into the crisp night air of the city. As they walked back together, she felt like she was in When Harry Met Sally or You’ve Got Mail—everything had taken on the color and charm of a film, something beautiful and romantic and idealized.

Blake pointed out some of the other neighborhood gems along the way, walking closely next to her, his presence warm and comforting in the foreign, alien atmosphere of her new city.

When they got back to their building, there was someone standing on the front steps. For a brief second, as Kennedy tried to make sense of what she was seeing—her mind actually refused to recognize who it was.

And then as the person on the steps spoke, Kennedy’s brain kicked into gear and she realized that Easton Rather was
at her apartment building
, waiting for her. His eyes flicked to Blake and then back to her. “I was in the area and I thought I’d look you up,”

Easton said coldly. “I hadn’t realized you were indisposed.”

Blake glanced at her to gauge her reaction before turning back to Easton. “Hi, I’m Blake,” he said, extending his hand and walking forward.

Easton shook Blake’s hand and looked him up and down, but didn’t respond to him verbally. Instead, he began walking away, back to his car.

Kennedy put her hand on Blake’s forearm. “That’s my boss,” she said softly. “I should go talk to him.”

Blake looked at her strangely. “Your boss? And he comes to your apartment at night?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I can tell,” he said, his face hardly masking his unease.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I can’t afford to upset him…”

“Hey, I get it. Thanks for a wonderful evening, Kennedy.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek and then quickly went up the stairs and into the building.

Kennedy turned and saw that Easton was already in his car and had started the engine. She ran to the driver’s side and knocked on the window before he could leave.

He looked at her disdainfully, but eventually rolled it down. “What?” he said.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t see the point, really.”

“You obviously came here for a reason.”

Easton looked at her, his gaze hard and cold and flat. “That no longer applies.”

“Are you upset because I went out to eat with my neighbor?”

Easton scratched his cheek. “On the contrary, I hope you two had a fabulous meal.”

“Easton, please. I’m trying…I’m trying to talk to you. Why did you come here if you didn’t even want to talk to me?”

Without warning, he opened the car door and got out. Kennedy stepped back, stumbling a little on the curb. Easton caught her before she could fell, his strong hands holding her arms tightly. “Is he going to hold you like this?”

His touch was burning her, lighting her on fire. “Not if you tell me you want me,”

she said.

Easton gazed at her, his intensity overpowering. “You shouldn’t need me to say it.” He let go of her.

“I’m s—“

“Don’t,” he warned, pointing at her. “Don’t say it, Kennedy.”

She looked down. “You can’t expect me to read your mind.”

“And what do you think it was, what happened between us today at the office?”

he asked. “You think I do that with everyone I work with?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, meeting his gaze and refusing to back down. “I have no idea what you do or don’t do.”

He smirked. “I think you damn well knew, and I think you didn’t care. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black,” she retorted.

“You think so? Have it your way, then.” He turned and got back in his car, and within seconds, his headlights were disappearing down the street, and the sound of his car engine had faded into the rest of the sounds of the city.

***

The next day, Easton wasn’t in the office. Kennedy had been given access to his calendar, but when she tried to log into it that morning to see where he was, she was denied.

A cold fear shot through her as she stared at the computer screen uncomprehendingly. At first, Kennedy thought maybe she’d just rushed through typing in her password, but after another couple of tries, realized that in fact she’d been intentionally locked out.

He’s going to fire you now,
she thought. Her shoulders slumped.

Anger nearly overwhelmed her.

How dare he think he can take all of this out on me? I didn’t do anything wrong.

As the day drew on, Kennedy waited and waited for Easton to come back, text, email or call her. She had almost nothing to do, so she spent her day cleaning out the refrigerator and cabinets, then going to the store and restocking them on her own dime.

She knew it was ridiculous and inappropriate to spend her own money getting stuff for work, but she had almost nothing else to keep her busy. And Kennedy wanted to do something to prove to Easton that she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t crumble simply because he’d withdrawn his approval.

After a couple of hours, Kennedy was putting the last goodies in the cabinets for snacks and arranging the boxes, when she heard Easton finally coming back to the office.

She turned and looked at him, and he looked at her. His expression was neutral, not at all surprised or even curious. “I’m leaving for the day,” he said. “You should finish whatever it is you’re doing tomorrow.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Whatever it is I’m doing? I went out and spent my own money, of which I have little, to get food for our office.”

He squinted at her, his brow furrowing. “Why would you spend your own money on that? We have petty cash for that kind of thing.”

“Oh. Well, nobody told me,” she said, “and you weren’t here all day. I had to do something so I tried my best to be productive.”

Easton shook his head. “You’ll be reimbursed tomorrow from the petty cash.

Did you keep receipts?”

“Yes,” she said, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. “And I see you locked me out of your calendar, too.”

“I’m not discussing this with you right now. I’ve got to go, and you should too.

You’re clearly not in any condition to continue working.”

“Fine,” she said, tossing a package of Cup ‘a Soup against the wall by the sink.

Then she crossed the room to her desk, grabbed her purse and coat, and started out.

As she passed by Easton, he grabbed her wrist forcefully. His breath was against her hair, her cheek. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s going to stop right now.”

“Or what? You’ll fire me? You’ve already started pushing me out, so I don’t see how I’m making anything worse.”

He stared at her intently and she could feel the heat and anger and need pulsating off him. “I’m not going to fire you,” he whispered. “But I do have to punish you. Now go outside and wait for me by the garage, around back.”

She gave him a sidelong look, afraid he might take it back if she said anything else. “Fine,” she whispered.

He released his grip on her wrist. “Go, I’ll be out soon.”

***

Easton wouldn’t say much to her as they drove to where he was taking her, and Kennedy was afraid to ask. She didn’t want to spoil it or make him change his mind.

She was happy to just be in the car next to him, knowing that something would soon happen between them.

But as they got closer and closer to the destination—whatever the destination was—she started to get anxious. He was very serious, his hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes on the road, unwavering.

What if he wants to have sex?
She wondered.

Well isn’t that what you wanted? Why are you getting cold feet now?

Of course she still wanted him. At the same time, she was in a much different headspace today than she’d been the last time they’d been together like this. There was a feeling of disconnection, a total lack of warmth or even interest from him. Easton seemed cold and distant and angry, and she didn’t want to have her virginity taken away under those circumstances.

Kennedy felt inhibited.

What if he thinks I’m like a dead fish, totally uptight and dull in bed?

Then again, she thought, as they continued down twisting streets—he might not have had any intention of making love to her.

He might just want to hurt me, tie me up, cause me pain.

She began aggressively biting her nails, and when they pulled up out front of The Church, she started to shake like an animal about to go to the slaughterhouse.

Easton stopped the car and looked at her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I…I don’t know,” she whispered, still biting her nails.

“Yes you do.” His voice was clipped and impatient.

“Actually I don’t.”

“Who do you think you are?” he said. He turned to her, his broad chest expansive in his suit, his entire aura was overpowering in its masculinity and brute sexuality.

“I’m not anyone.”

“Don’t try that with me, Kennedy. You and these games—it’s beneath you.”

“I’m not playing games,” she told him, her lips drawing back defensively.