Page 8

B oyd

She needed a spanking and she got one.

I was nice enough to give her a way out. I could have easily turned her ass red and scared her enough to make sure she never came back to Las Vegas.

But that isn’t my job. If I’m going to do it, she needs to respect the boundaries I laid out for her. Sure, I enjoyed the way she writhed on my cock while I spanked her gorgeous ass, but that’s just a perk of a job done well.

Sarah emerges from the bathroom no longer looking like the happy, cheerful girl I met yesterday. All the excitement is gone from her eyes, despite the proof she left on my pants that the spanking wasn’t entirely miserable for her.

I might have spanked her a little longer because I noticed that.

“Did you really worry about me?” Sarah asks, curiosity flickering in her lovely blue eyes. “Because I didn’t show up on time?”

“Yes, Sarah,” I answer. “I’m not a monster, regardless of how you may feel about me right now. I’m capable of worry. I’m capable of a lot of things.”

Sarah stares at me with wide, cautious eyes.

She walks to the dresser, picks up her vape, and takes a long pull that makes the room smell like strawberries and cream when she exhales.

She’s looking at me like I’m a monster. The way people look at me when they realize they pushed one button too many and caused the giant to crawl out of his cave.

“I’m really sorry,” she whispers. “I won’t keep you waiting or make you worry again.”

Remorse after the spanking. That’s proof it worked. She would have said anything to make it stop, but she doesn’t have the pain guiding her words now. She means them.

My heart twitches in my chest. I really don’t like that feeling. I move the notebook to the bed beside me.

“Before we straighten out your notes, let’s talk,” I say, motioning to the bed across from me and looking around. Once I see the sign that confirms it’s one of the rooms where smoking is allowed, I reach into my pocket for my cigarettes. “Sit down, Sarah.”

Sarah nods, then she cautiously walks to the bed and lowers herself to the mattress. She winces and squirms a little as she finds a comfortable way to sit, then she looks down at her lap and fiddles with her vape.

“Look, I know I was harsh. I live in a really fucking harsh world. I think you understand that.” I light my cigarette and blow the smoke away from her.

“I do,” she whispers, nodding in agreement. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just worried about saving my podcast.”

“And that’s fine. I’m going to help you do that, but we have to do it the right way.

You cashed in your personal favor for this, and personal favors are sacred,” I sigh, then try to ease the tension with some sarcastic humor.

“You could have just asked for a million dollars, you know. Then you wouldn’t need a podcast.”

“I didn’t help Lea because I was looking for a payday,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting to get a personal favor from Salvatore Morandi. I guess it was foolish to waste it on this. I just…”

“I get it,” I say, trying to keep the roughness out of my tone. “It’s what you’re passionate about. Your job, even if it doesn’t make you much money. You like to do your job well, like I do.”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, taking a hit from her vape.

“I listened to a couple episodes last night,” I say, unsure if I should admit it or not.

“Really?” She looks up at me and I see a flicker in her eyes. “What did you think?”

“I like the way you present everything. Your excitement is rather captivating, especially in the older episodes,” I admit.

“I’ve been faking that for a while,” she sighs. “But it was genuine back when I was covering the Mafia Prince Murders.”

“I could tell.” I nod in agreement and take a drag from my cigarette. “What changed?”

“What do you think?” she mutters. “Lea got kidnapped by a Mafia prince. Now they’re married.”

“Your best friend got married and that drained all the excitement out of you?” I question. “No, that isn’t it. You were really happy at the wedding. You couldn’t stop grinning, and I thought you were going to kill someone to get that damn bouquet.”

Sarah looks down at her lap again and fidgets with her vape, then she brings it to her lips for a quick puff. There’s more to this story, I can tell. I don’t need to know, but I want to.

“It’s a lot of things,” she says, almost dismissively.

“Lea’s grandmother dying. Trying to look after her, while barely being able to look after myself.

My podcast… nobody is listening to it. My job fucking sucks, and if I don’t figure out how to turn my podcast around, I’ve got to stop doing it.

Find a real job or go back to school… that’s what my mom wants. ”

There’s truth in her words, but she’s still not telling me everything. I could drop it. I should drop it. But I want to know the real reason.

“And?” I press, taking another drag from my cigarette.

Sarah’s face falls. She nibbles her bottom lip. A word tries to form, but she hesitates. I lean forward and put my finger under her chin, tilting it until I see tears in her pretty blue eyes again. I didn’t put those there this time.

My protective nature flourishes to life like a beast in the wild. I start to see red, and I don’t even know why.

“Tell me,” I demand.

Sarah is silent for a few moments that feel like an eternity. I’m about to demand my answer more forcibly when her lips tremble a few whispers I can’t make out before she finally raises her voice.

“The last time I-I was in Las Vegas,” she mumbles. “I went to a bar and…”

The red in my vision builds into a rage. I can already tell where this is going.

“Tell me,” I repeat, my jaw tightening until it makes my neck stiff.

“It was late. I shouldn’t have stayed so late, but I was… I was talking to the bartender,” she says, fear radiating behind her tears. “He offered me one last drink, and… he put something in it. It had to be him, because there was nobody else around.”

I pull my hand away from her face, crush out my cigarette, and stand up. I’ve heard enough. I grab my suit jacket and throw it on so fast I hear a few threads rip.

“Which bar?” I growl. “Give me the name.”

“Nothing happened, Boyd,” she says, some panic in her voice. “I started feeling woozy. I sent a text to Lea and Massimo sent someone to get me!”

“Which fucking bar?” I insist, leaning forward until my fists are against her mattress and I’m inches from her face. “Either give me the name, or I’ll start with the closest one and I won’t stop until I find out who put something in your drink.”

“Fletcher’s,” she whispers. “Down the strip by?—”

“I know it,” I snap, my back popping a few times as I pull away from her.

I tolerate a lot working for the Morandi family. But this isn’t something I’ll tolerate.

I stomp to the door and yank it open so hard I bend the hinges. I get halfway down the hallway before Sarah comes chasing after me with her purse in her hand.

“Wait! No, Boyd!” she calls out. “Nothing happened!”

“It could have,” I say, not slowing my pace. “And it could easily happen to someone else.”

I make it to the elevators before Sarah catches up to me. She latches onto my arm, trying to turn me around, but it’s a fruitless endeavor.

“I don’t want any trouble!” she whines. “That’s why I didn’t tell Massimo!”

“If I wasn’t so angry right now, you’d get another spanking for keeping it to yourself.” I shrug her off my arm. “What if I had been some other girl, huh? Someone who didn’t have a best friend on speed dial who could send someone to get her?”

“I know, but I was just so embarrassed.” Sarah looks away and tears stream down her cheeks. “I never take drinks when people offer them to me. I didn’t expect the bartender to roofie me.”

The elevator doors open and I step inside. Sarah doesn’t follow me. I wait until the doors start to close, then I put my hand out to stop them.

“Are you coming?” I ask. “Or are you just going to stand there, cry, and feel sorry for yourself? You can even put this on your fucking podcast and shout his name to the entire world. I don’t give a damn.”

Sarah hesitates, then she steps in the elevator, so I let the doors close.

“I don’t want to talk about this on my podcast,” she mutters.

“Suit yourself,” I grumble, hitting the button to take us to the lobby.

Someone tried to take advantage of this pretty little thing. They roofied her. Fuck that. I knew everything that happened with Massimo and his brothers wasn’t enough to sap the excitement out of her voice. Sure, it was scary, but she was fine at the wedding.

I certainly didn’t want to be there after what Erica did. Sarah’s excitement practically radiated off her and made me feel just a tiny bit less miserable. She also looked fucking incredible in that bridesmaid’s dress.

Maybe I’ve been paying attention to her longer than I’d like to admit. I’ve even watched her count cards in Massimo’s casino. The way her eyes light up right before she reveals her winning hand—mesmerizing.

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Sarah asks apprehensively.

“I might,” I answer truthfully, then step out of the elevator as soon as the doors open.

I don’t know what I’ll do yet. I rarely do this sort of thing unless there’s a direct order from the boss. I’m kicking a hole in the side of one of my boundaries. I don’t go looking for trouble. But when it finds me—or when it finds a girl with pretty blue eyes… I get a little irrational.

Sarah tries to keep up as I stomp through the lobby of Salvalagio. Rowan notices me and starts to say something, but I blow right past him so fast his kilt catches the wind.

As soon as I get to my SUV, I yank the passenger door open and walk around to the other side. Sarah gets in faster than I do, but I don’t even bother with my seatbelt before I peel out of the parking lot. I hit a curb on the way out, then dodge cars as I drive down the strip.

“Right up there,” Sarah whispers.