Page 15 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

fifteen

Declan

I’m scrolling through a business proposal—a contract that I’m not going to sign no matter how much they offer simply because of the name attached to it—when my phone chimes with a text message from Collins.

Your girl’s got some friends in high places. I don’t know how she did it, but there’s virtually no record of her. It’s got to be an alias.

I glance up from my phone to the woman at the desk across from me, typing feverishly on her keyboard. I think she’s trying to drown out any sound that may come from me, to ignore any chatter that may come about.

Soren Palmer isn’t the kind of woman who blends in.

Nearly everything about her draws the eye—a willowy frame but somehow an ass that looks like it belongs on the cover of a sports magazine.

Dark, silky hair that falls just right around her heart-shaped face, lips plump enough to make it look like she’s just got done sucking on a cherry popsicle.

Even her name— Soren —isn’t very ordinary.

So how is she trying to blend in when it seems she was made to stand out?

Better yet, what sort of secrets is she hiding behind those wild eyes?

If she notices me staring openly at her, she does a damn good job of playing it off. It’s hard to imagine that someone who wears her trauma like a scarlet letter could really be so oblivious to her surroundings. And if she is, maybe I ought to teach her a lesson.

She doesn’t hear me stand up—or, at least, she acts like she doesn’t. I slide the door to our office open and look around the desks at my new staff.

I don’t give a damn what happens to this paper.

Print journalism is a dying industry; everyone in the office knows it.

I could fire every last person here, pay them a handsome pension, shutter the doors, and still probably save money compared to running the damn thing at a loss for the next five years.

Who knows where journalism will be by then?

But doing that wouldn’t let me get closer to her.

It wouldn’t give me an opportunity to learn about my prey, to figure out her greatest fears.

Doing that would only knock her down a peg.

My little lioness needs to be taken down to the pit of desperation, to be pulled so deep that she can’t even find the strength to pull herself back up.

Her only chance at escape will be by taking my hand.

It’s not enough to kill her and be done with it. The article she ran has already hit its mark.

I’ve gotten a dozen calls from Daphne, each one which I ignored. If I want to clear my reputation in the public arena, I have to eviscerate her so completely that she’s willing to say or do anything I demand of her, the least of which will be writing a retraction.

“Staff meeting in the conference room in three minutes.” I announce, looking over the pit. “Bring your most recent piece that’s gone live and don’t be late. If you’ve got a meeting, push it. If you’re on a call, hang up.”

I turn back to my own desk to gather my notes as the office by and large scurries into action.

I’ve just tucked the papers under my arm when I catch sight of Soren, standing there with her forearms braced against the desk.

The way she leans forward offers me a tantalizing view of her cleavage, and I realize I was right about the black lace bra.

Predictable, but classy.

Safe.

Boring .

I let my eyes fall to what I can see of her waist, wondering if her panties are part of a matching set. She looks like the type who would go for that sort of thing.

“Miss Palmer.” I acknowledge her, giving her what she clearly wants. “Is something wrong?”

She debates that a long moment before even opening her mouth to try and answer me. “Yes.” She says with all the ferocity of a little kitten. “Let’s cut the shit.”

“Excuse me?” I glance at my watch.

Two minutes until I’m late to my own meeting.

“I said let’s cut the shit . I ran that article about you yesterday and then you run into me at my bar? You show up outside my house and watch me in the bathtub? You buy my fucking job ?”

I let her lament her accusations and glance over my shoulder to see that the office has cleared out. Every last person out there has taken me seriously, and now they’re waiting for me in the conference room on the other side of the office. Which leaves me completely, blissfully alone with her.

“Anything else?” I prompt. “While I have you here?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she stiffens as I step closer to her so that only her desk separates us.

Up close, I can see the spark of fear in her eyes as I don’t deny any of what she’s trying to pin on me. Despite that fear, though, she doesn’t move, her eyes on my face like she expects me to make a sudden move.

In the silence, I swear I hear her heart skip a beat and then work double-time to try and catch up.

“No,” she says, the word small and considerably weaker than the rest of her claims.

“Good.”

It’s hard to imagine that fluorescent lights are flattering on anyone, but something about the way it makes the shadows fall across her face is enticing. I reach out a hand and drag my finger over the apple of her cheek, watching it bloom red in my wake as I trace a path to her lips.

She doesn’t have much room behind her desk—she’s already backed against the wall, literally and metaphorically speaking.

“Let’s get something straight, Miss Palmer.

First of all, you will address me as sir .

Disrespect will not be tolerated.” I push my finger past her lips, which part all too easily for me.

I have to conceal a groan as I try to push away the thoughts of how well she’ll take my cock when I finally give it to her. “Is that understood?”

Soren says nothing, but her chest heaves up and down, her cheeks scarlet. Her fury radiates off of her in a delicious wave of heat that I want to bask in, but she clamps her jaw and tears out from my touch so that my hand falls away.

“I asked if you understood?”

She’s rigid with anger, resembling a live wire, but she manages to grind out a simple ‘yes’ through her gritted teeth.

I shake my head, tsking in disapproval. It’s hard to deny the smirk, but I think I manage it as I say, “Yes, what ?”

Fuck, she may be easier to break than I thought.

I’m pretty sure I’m single-handedly driving her to consider murder, and it’s a glorious intoxication. Her face is as scarlet as the hair of the red head who sucked me dry last night, and I decide in that moment that no pair of lips will wrap around me until Soren’s have been there.

“Yes, sir .” She nearly chokes on her indignity, but I’m not through with her yet.

“Good.” I purr, unable to hide my pleasure at the sound of that little word tipping off her tongue. “Now, second: you have a filthy mouth. It really needs punished.”

I thought she couldn’t get any redder, but I was wrong. It’s one of a few very rare moments where I delight in being wrong.

“That’s completely inappropriate!” She snarls, like the feral little kitty cat she is. “I highly doubt HR would tolerate such brazen sexual harassment.”

I laugh, stepping around her desk to join her. “Smart people don’t bite the hand that feeds them. Nobody is going to levy harassment charges against the man who signs their paycheck.”

“Oh yeah?” She straightens, realizing her ass is against the wall. She has nowhere to go, and just like the desperate, wild creature she is, she’s trapped. “What about the police?”

“Oh, sweet baby girl.” I trace the bow of her lips as she shrinks into the wall like she’s desperate to escape my touch. “You already know the police work for me. You wrote an entire article about it.”

She wants to argue with me, but she knows that I’m right. “Fine. Then I’ll quit. I don’t need this job!”

We both know that isn’t true, but I nod anyway, like I’m preparing to accept defeat. “If you really think that, then you’re free to leave at any moment.” I step back enough to allow her to push past me, and she doesn’t disappoint.

Soren drives her shoulder into my chest as she brushes by me, a passive aggressive little knock that does nothing but amuse me. “But I’d suggest you reconsider that. We haven’t even discussed your raise yet.”

Just like I predicted, my words stop her in her tracks.

There’s a moment where she debates walking out that door, but her common sense kicks in and she turns, crossing her arms over her chest. “What raise?”

“You’re editor in chief, now. Surely you don’t expect to do more work for less pay?”

She worries her bottom lip as she wars with herself for a moment, and when she speaks again, the venom in her voice is poorly concealed.

“So, what? I’m supposed to whore myself out to you? Deal with inappropriate comments and touches because you’re offering me a raise?”

Her candor is cute, but not as much as the complete disgust in her voice at the thought of taking my offer. “I didn’t have any of that written into the contract,” I shrug, “but if you’d like, I can call my attorney and have an amended version here within the hour.”

If looks could kill, I’d have been dead a long time ago and Soren Palmer never would have gotten the opportunity to stare at me like she’s willing the roof to collapse over my head.

Her voice is subdued when she asks, “So what are your terms?”

“I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse.” I assure her. “We can discuss numbers in a bit, but in the meantime, let’s just say you were woefully underpaid before. And I pay my employees very generously.”

Her eyes dart from me to the door, like she’s thinking of walking out on me. But I can see her working through her options, and while she may still cling to her pride, she’s smart enough to realize that turning me down isn’t in her best interest.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll stick around to review the contract and if it’s satisfactory, we will go from there.”

“Perfect.” She’s nearly out the door before my voice pauses her with her hand on the doorknob. “And Miss Palmer?”

She turns to watch me as I sidle up to her side, her distrust obvious as I close the space between us so that I can bring my mouth to her ear and whisper directly into it.

“If you ever make me late for my own meeting again, I’ll bend you over your desk and spank you until you’re so swollen you can’t walk. You’ll have to roll your chair into the meeting. Are we understood?”

I feel the quiver that passes over her and combined with the little gasp that leaves her lips, I can tell it isn’t all fear that’s making her shake.

Her eyes are wide and she’s breathless, afraid to move, to speak.

But she recognizes that I’m not stepping away from her until I get an answer, so she manages to gasp out a single word that’s nearly lost on her shaky breath.

“Yes.”

I smile for her benefit, but don’t move just yet, tucking a strand of her hair out of her face. She flinches away from me at first, and then she realizes what I’m waiting for.

Her resolve fractures, a little piece of her pride chipping away as she works the words in her mouth.

“Yes, sir.”