Page 92 of Bronson

I’ve conceded. Several times.

She’s been over my knee. Several times.

But I’m sure she’d tell you she’s benefited from the sessions.

The way her pussy gushes from her spankings tells me I’m doing something right.

The one subject we can’t seem to see eye to eye on is how much I work. Since marrying Paige, I’ve cut back quite a bit. But an empire doesn’t run itself. After our extended honeymoon, it was back to the grindstone for me.

She’s been left to set up house. Get to know the ladies of the Village. Volunteer at her old home.

And shop. Endlessly shop.

But it’s not enough. I’m not enough. She needs something all her own. And that’s why I’ve decided to give her a gift.

Bachman’s.

She has impeccable taste. She can sniff a thief from a mile away, she says. Something to do with her past, perhaps? And customers adore her almost as much as I do.

It will give her purpose, drive, something to fill the hours when I must work.

And she’ll be far better at running the store than I ever was.

Can you believe I’ve never done a lick of paperwork in my life?

Paige

“I don’t want to give you a life, Paige,” Bronson tells me. “I want to build one with you.”

He slides the business documents across the desk.

“You earned this. The butterfly collection increased sales, brought in an entirely new customer base, and raised more for Our Home than any fundraiser we’ve held. Bachman’s needs you.”

I stare down at the papers. “You’re giving me the store?”

“I’m giving you authority over it. Ownership remains ours—together.”

He’s given me everything.

Now, he’s given me the store.

Wait. No…

He’s given me love, safety, and a family.

But he has not simply handed me the store.

I earned my place in it.

I, Paige Bachman, am an entrepreneur.

It feels amazing.

Of course, with all the money my husband made from investing, our main source of income is now completely legit from stocks.

Any revenue I make from Bachman’s jewelers will go directly to helping the elderly in New York. Bronson and I have no need for more money. Once he agrees to my plan, just knowing who I’ll be helping lights a fire in my belly and gives me a drive to perform—to earn.

And I do.