Chapter 23 He Put You On Indefinite Leave
I stare down at the corset, not moving to pick it up.
He doesn’t move from the sofa either.
A few minutes pass where neither of us says anything. I just breathe through the silence, my brain whizzing with every possible response, every excuse I can give him.
Even if I just say it is a corset that I own, feigning ignorance of the club, I know that he knows it is the exact same one. He spends hours running his hands over it, studying it as he watches my body react in each session. There is no way I can pretend that I don’t work there.
Eventually, I slowly bend down, and pick it up. His head turns slightly at the movement.
“David, I–”
“No. You don’t get to talk.” He snaps, finally standing from the sofa and marching over to me. He throws his glass onto the floor, and it shatters everywhere.
“David, please just hear me ou–”
He puts his hand around my throat and pushes me against the nearest wall. I breathe heavily at the action, fiercely aware that the throb in my core is completely inappropriate.
His eyes are wild with anger, his jaw set as he glares down at me. I can smell the whiskey on his breath.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” He orders, as he pins me to the wall. I put my hand on his forearm as I squirm a little. “Tell me, Nora.” He whispers. Looking him in the eyes, I feel incredibly guilty about what I’m about to reply with.
“I can’t.”
He drops his hand from my neck and turns away from me, running his hands through his hair as he angrily paces.
“David–”
“No!” He snaps, pointing his finger at me. “No, Nora. This…” He drops his hand. “Do you even understand how fucked up this is?!”
“Trust me, I do, yeah. But you’ve got to understand–”
“Understand? You want me to understand why you fucking lied to me? Let me do all of that to you?!”
“I uh..” I breathe in. “Look, David just–”
“Why did you say yes?” He asks quietly, his hands on his hips now, and his gaze focused on the floor.
“What?”
“When I came to the club. Why did you say yes when I requested you?”
“I didn’t want to. I tried to stop you, but then it–”
“When did you ever try?” He growls.
I sigh. “The first night. I tried to tell you I’m not a submissive.”
“And the second?” He asks, stepping towards me. “What happened then?”
“I….”
“What happened Nora?” He repeats, his hands going to the wall on either side of my head, caging me in, and let’s be honest, turning me on a little.
Just a little.
“I was being honest when I said I don’t sub. Not usually.” I say quickly, ignoring his eyes narrowing at me. “Because I’m picky. Really picky.”
“What does this have to–”
“You scored the same as me.” I rush, making his jaw snap shut. “On your questionnaire, like, exactly the same. Every single thing, every single aspect, we were practically identical in what we want, in the dynamic we need. I couldn’t ignore that.”
“And you didn’t think of the fact that I am your boss?!”He half-shouts. “That you were fucking around with me then acting like nothing happened at the office?!”
“That’s exactly why I did it!” I shout back. “Because ever since I started working for you I’ve liked you, okay?!”
The anger disappears from his eyes, but I continue my rant.
“So yeah, it is fucked up, but I can’t exactly make a move on the fucking CEO! And when you started… touching me, you made me feel so fucking good, I just... I caved and then the more we did it, the harder it was to stop!”
I breathe after my ramblings, staring at him staring back at me. There is a lot more I could say, that I want to say, but I am waiting to see what his next question is.
“Who knows?” He asks.
“Sel.”
“The manager. She’s also the friend that picks you up, I take it?” He tilts his head, and I nod. Then he laughs. “So, every time she picked you up, you were going to the club, getting ready to make an idiot out of me?”
“No, David that–”
“Why did you carry on? You had so many fucking chances to stop, and now? Now it’s…”
I see him struggling with what to say next. So I decide to take over. I slide my hand onto his wrist, beside my head, and I gently guide his arm down.
“I didn’t want to stop.” I admit. “It was… what we were doing was really good, I…” I breathe in. “It felt so good. You kept… doing little things that made me think you wanted me, and I know it’s stupid… but I figured I’d never have that with you as you. So I just wanted to keep it for as long as I could. And then you kissed me and…it changed things.”
His eyes flick between mine.
Something in his gaze tells me that he is only seeing the truth in mine, that he knows I'm not lying to him.
I can also see that he is not going to reply anytime soon, so I step away from him, and go to the kitchen, grabbing the dustpan and brush, and coming back to the lounge.
He’s still standing in the same position, one hand on the wall where I previously was, staring at the wall instead now, his other hand curled into a fist by his side.
I walk over to where the glass had smashed, and start sweeping it up. The only sound in the room for a few minutes is the crunch of the shards moving into the dustpan.
“Leave it.” He growls.
“David, it’s glass I can’t just–”
“I said, leave it.”
I look up to see him now storming over to me. I start to stand, the dustpan and brush falling out of my hands as he grabs my arm roughly, tugging me close to him.
Now is really not the time to get turned on. And yet, my stomach flips either way. I look down at his lips either way.
I close my eyes, trying to calm my body down, but when I open my eyes, he is frowning at me.
Then he licks his bottom lip. And lets me go.
His eyes flick to the glass, the dustpan and brush, and he shakes his head.
“Cleaners will get it tomorrow.” He mutters, before taking a few steps backwards, then leaving the room altogether.
I let out a long exhale as I stare at the door that he exited through.
I knew this was coming. I knew that, at some point, he would find out, somehow. I knew there is a chance he would be upset. A really big chance.
I shake my head, realising that I can’t do anything to change it now, and go back to clearing up the glass. I leave a note on top of the spill telling the cleaners what happened, in case the whiskey has dried by the morning.
Sleep doesn’t come easy to me, and I know that it hasn’t come easy for David either.
Every so often, I hear him walk past my door, through the apartment, and each time, I feel a stronger urge to talk to him. I figure it won’t help at the moment, while he’s still riled up about it, so I stay in my bed, waiting for either my alarm to go off, or my body to fall asleep, whichever comes first.
The alarm rips through the air at 7am, so it appears that I fell asleep at some point. I reluctantly get out of bed, rubbing my eyes, which sting painfully in response, as though my body is trying to remind me that things are still shit and sleep doesn’t fix it.
Thinking that David is already at the office, as usual, I head straight for the kitchen. The aim is to make a coffee strong enough that I have to eat it.
The reality is that there is someone in the kitchen.
“Jesus, fuck, Marcus.” I gasp as my heart jumps, and my hand flies to my chest as if that will calm it down. Marcus just looks up at me with a side smile, sipping a coffee as he leans against the counter. “You’re not usually in the kitchen at this time.”
“I made you one.” He says, ignoring my comment completely, and pointing to a cup to his side.
I thank him, and walk over to pick it up. Still hot. Gorgeously delicious.
“So how come you’re here?” I ask, leaning against the counter next to him.
“David isn’t here.” He says bluntly, but I frown at him.
“David hasn’t been here at 7am for a long time, he’s always at the office already.”
Marcus nods, but doesn’t expand his answer any further. The way he stares down at his mug is making me suspicious.
“Marcus? What’s going on?” I question, the bite in my voice making him sigh and put his cup down behind him.
“Don’t get mad.”
“Cause that sentence always comes before something that will make people calm.” I retort.
“Nora. I… this isn’t my choice okay?”
“What isn’t your choice?” I ask, getting concerned now. Marcus just runs his hand over his jaw. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
He breathes in.
“You’re not going to the office.” He finally says, after a few seconds.
“What do you mean? Am I working from home?”
“No. You’re not… he put you on indefinite leave.”