Page 32 of Leverage & Obedience

“She was my sub.” He shrugs. “But we never used the language. We just fell into it naturally. It was enough.” His grip on the desk hasn’t loosened. “After she died, I got into the scene properly and had a few subs over the years. Always clean arrangements. No collars. I haven’t wanted that with anyone since she died.”

I’m breathing, but still feel like I’m not getting enough air.

“The temp position.” He swallows. “Nobody stays long enough to become someone I could lose.”

“What about the protein bars?” My voice is coming out from somewhere far away. “Did you ever fuck one of your other assistants?”

“No, only you.”

He moves toward me, and I put a hand up.

“Don’t.”

He pauses.

I need to get out of here. I can’t make my mouth or feet move.

“This is different, Lily. You have to believe that.”

“Stop.” I dig my nails into my palms hard enough to leave half-moons because I need something I can feel that isn’t him.

He doesn’t stop. “Don’t leave. Stay past the contract.”

Stay. The word I’ve been trying not to think about for weeks.

I look at him. This man in his rolled sleeves and loosened tie, asking me to be the one who breaks the pattern.

And I can’t.

I believe what he said. He just gave me more honesty in five minutes than anyone has in twenty-eight years.

But I’m still just one in a line he can’t even count. What if this is just grief talking, and I’m the first warm thing in eight years to get under his skin? What if it’s not me he wants—just someone. Plug in any other woman who sucks his cock on Day One, and the story plays the same.

He’s offering permanence. I want it so badly, but I can’t trust it.

And there’s something underneath that I’m not going to look at right now. About the boxes in my apartment. About who’s been making sure nothing ever sticks.

I bend down.

My fingers fumble at the clasp. It opens easier than it should, and the chain pools in my palm. My ankle already feels wrong.

I set the anklet on the polished wood next to him. The chain looks even more delicate against the mahogany.

His eyes drop to the anklet—to the gold he fastened around my ankle himself. He doesn’t reach for me.

I’ve spent weeks learning this man’s face. The almost-smile. The way he goes still when something matters. I’ve never seen this expression.

The boss-mask and the Dom are both gone. What’s left is a man watching me leave and not chasing me.

No one ever does.

I walk out. I don’t look back. There’s very little at my desk to collect, just my purse and a mug. Exactly how I planned.

When I get to my car, my hands stay steady on the wheel the whole way to my apartment.

I don’t cry until I close the front door.

Chapter 9