Chapter 60

“Who did this?” Archer’s voice is like fire and ice water at once, burning with fury but at the same time doused with the chilling promise of vengeance.

It’s almost be flattering in a way, except the root of his anger is based strictly on possession. Like a spoiled child annoyed that someone else has played with their things.

The last thing I want to do is tell him about the fight, or about Tide. Despite myself, I am still considering loaning Tide the money. A person shouldn’t have to die for their mistakes. Saying that here and now would only really set of Archer, though.

I am half-tempted to let Tide fall on his face, though, growing more convinced by the second, the longer Archer continues to look at me with such murderous intent.

His fingers are a vice grip on my arm, tightening. “Answer me.”

“I fell.” It’s the best lie I can come up with on the spot. I’m hoping I’m convincing –

“You are lying.”

Or not.

“How would you know?” I jut my chin out in defiance. He’s right, of course, but I hate it when he says things in that arrogant way of his, like he knows everything and can see straight through me. It makes me want to double down on my lie.

Yet when his eyes narrow, I know I fucked up.

“You need to learn a lesson about lying to me.” His voice is all ice water now, a whisper of dark promises.

The image of the girl tied over his bench flashes in my mind unbidden. Desire and trepidation surge through my veins in equal measure. I’m ashamed of my own body’s reaction, though, so I have trouble controlling my mouth.

“What could you possibly have to teach me?”

Sharp anger flashes in his eyes. His voice lowers, growling as he says, “Time for you to find out.”

His grip merciless, he drags me toward the door.

“Archer, wait a minute,” Neil starts.

“Stay out of this, Neil.”

As we reach the door, I look back at Neil, hoping for a rescue. He gives me a sympathetic sort of look, but when his gaze dips to my bruise, that look hardens. He’s pissed too.

“Don’t break her,” Neil says, and I immediately know that’s all the intervention I can hope for.

“No promises,” Archer growls, and pulls me through the door.

He drags me through the hallway to his room, where he bursts open his own door so hard it rattles on its hinges and slams against the wall. He yanks me through, then kicks that same door closed behind him.

The door, somehow, survives the harsh treatment. I’m not sure I’ll be so lucky.

He brings me to the bare wall beside his dresser, and presses me into it, my back flat against the hard surface. He finally releases his hold on my upper arm, but only to catch both of my wrists in his hands. He lifts my arms above my head, then pins both of my wrists together under one of his palms.

I test his hold but he is unyielding.

I’m startled by this position, by the stretch of the body and how exposed I feel. My breasts are pressed forward naturally, my back arched.

Before I realize he’s doing it, Archer has produced a ribbon and tied my hands to a hook he has hanging above me. He concentrates on his knot for a moment. When he’s finally satisfied, he removes his hands, and the warm closeness of his body, by stepping backwards.

His eyes trail down over my stretching body, then back up again.

He’s still angry, I can see it in the fire burning in his gaze, but the corner of his mouth tips up ever-so-slightly in a smile. He’s enjoying this too.

Sick bastard.

That’s what I should think, except my body is responding to this too. My nipples are tightening, pressed roughly up against the friction of my bra. Heat is building between my thighs, so I tuck them together as best I can.

I like the way he’s looking at me. I want him to keep looking.

“You will stay there until you be a good girl and tell me the truth of what happened to you.” His voice is husky rough. I’d like to think he’s not unaffected by the sight of me like this, but he could just still be angry.

“Guess we’ll be here a while, then.” I’m goading him. I can’t help myself. I know it will just piss him off more but I want to see what he’ll do. How he’ll try to shut me up.

“You could hang there all day. All night too. I’ll go about my day and just leave you.”

That places a bit of fear into me. I don’t exactly want to be like this without him actually present.

He must sense the shift in me because he inches in closer.

“I’ll fucking leave you here for days,” he says. “No one will come looking.”

He wouldn’t actually do that, I know, because then who would take care of the baby? I would starve and they’d all be on their own.

Yet it still feels like a very real threat. I don’t want to be alone like this, not even for a second. My body’s reaction is confusing but I’m desperate for more of it.

He comes in closer so that he is right in front of my but not touching. There’s tension in every one of his muscles. He’s staring straight at my mouth.

I lick my lips.

“Tell me what happened and don’t fucking lie to me this time.”

My head was spinning from his closeness. His masculine scent, so heady and rich, was making me dizzy. The heat of his body seared at me, even through my clothes. I tugged against my bonds without meaning to. I arched my back, pressing my chest forward, eager to be closer, to touch.

He always stayed just out of my reach.

His hands smacked the wall at either side of my hips. I jumped, remembering how he had slapped that girl’s ass.

“Tell me.” Growling, he used his alpha voice. The demand sent shivers straight down my spine and into my pussy. I was wet in an instant, like he had pulled a fucking trigger.

Maybe I could tell him. Not the full truth but just some of it. Maybe then he would touch me.

All I want is for him to touch me.

“I got into a fight,” I said. I don’t recognize my own voice, it’s so rough with lust, I sound like I swallowed a cheese grater. “I was punched.”

“Of course you were fucking punched.” At once, he pushes away from the wall. Inch upon inch of distance separates us and my body screams with dissatisfaction.

I told him what he wanted to know. Why is he still so angry?

“The shape of the bruise already told me you were punched.”

“But I admitted it…?”

His hands curled into fists. “And what? You want a gold star? You got into a fight after we explicitly commanded you not to.”

Commanded? They had no right to command me anything!

The words hit me like cold water dropped over my head. My lust chilled so fast, I felt barren inside, hollowed out. And angry, all on my own.

He doesn’t know that I fought against bullies, and saved a man’s life. He probably wouldn’t care even if he did.

He doesn’t care about me, or what I want, or whether I help anyway. He only cares about what I can do for him, as his employee. No, as his possession.

But I belong to no one but myself.

So, foolish as it might be, I square myself as best I can in my vulnerable position, look him right in the eye, and say, “Fuck you, Archer.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks.