Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission by Tawny Taylor Page B

“I want to make
another phone call. But I won’t, if you tell me not to.”
    “Who’re you going to call?”
    “My father. I haven’t asked him for any help in years, but
I’d like to see what we can do for you. To keep something like this from coming
up again.”
    Kyler had already gone above and beyond, no doubt trying to
make up for his earlier mistreatment. Life had taught her that there was a
price to pay for any favors done for her, at least favors that weren’t owed.
She never liked to owe anyone.
    She shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I’d rather you
didn’t.”
    “Okay.”
    She was relieved when he didn’t push it, try to change her
mind. She actually felt the air moving in and out of her lungs freely again.
How long had she been holding her breath?
    He walked to her, stopped within reaching distance but
didn’t touch her. Not a reassuring pat or a squeeze of the hand. Nothing. “Now
go home. Get some rest. I’ll call you after I’ve had my little talk with
Becker. I’ll let you know how it went.”
    This time, despite the heaviness in her chest, she had no
problems getting into her car and driving home.
    * * * * *
    Kyler slid into the booth opposite Becker. “This is cozy.”
Settling into his seat, he eyed the place, an Italian restaurant with a dark
atmosphere and tables covered in floor-length burgundy tablecloths. “I half
expected you to stiff me.”
    “I thought about it. But I what the hell? You were singing a
song I liked. I wanted to hear the rest.”
    The man was shit. It turned Kyler’s stomach having to be
even this close to Matt Becker. And God help the company if this kind of
asshole was going to be VP. The missing money, which Becker had almost pinned
on him, was the half of it.
    “So, I’d like to know, how are you going to cover your ass,
Becker?”
    Becker waved a hand at the waiter and ordered his dinner and
an expensive bottle of wine, speaking perfect Italian. “I’ll manage.”
    Interesting. Becker wasn’t exactly what he’d call cultured.
Nor was he Italian. There was more to the slimeball than Kyler knew. Much more.
    The waiter turned to Kyler.
    Kyler shook his head. “ Niente, grazie. ” He didn’t
exactly have a stomach for trenette alle vongole or fegato alla
veneziana tonight. “If I resign on Monday, you’ll forget everything you
know about the office manager.”
    After a long moment and several swallows of wine, Becker
smiled. “I could be…convinced…”
    The bastard was looking for more? Fuck that.
    Disgusted, Kyler stood. Leaning over the asshole, he
whispered, “Two can play this game, you fucking piece of shit. You want to make
an innocent woman’s life hell by dragging all her skeletons out of her closet,
then I can do the same. Your closet isn’t exactly uninhabited, is it?”
    Something flashed in Becker’s eyes. Fear, perhaps?
    If things didn’t go his way tonight, he’d get in touch with
the detective again, see if he could dig up more details about this guy. He was
hiding something.
    Dammit, if he’d had more time, this conversation might have
gone very differently. In fact, it might not have gone at all. Instead, he
might have been talking to the police right now, giving a statement.
    Eyes narrowed, Becker set down his wine glass. “How about
you sit down and we talk about this?”
    “Last chance.” Kyler sat, crossed his arms over his chest.
“Give me the proof I came for, tell me you’re going to forget you’ve ever heard
or read anything about the office manager, or I’ll take what I have and go to
the police.”
    “If you had anything, you wouldn’t be talking to me right
now. Giving up your job.”
    Kyler shrugged. “Maybe I was tired of playing the sales and
marketing game?”
    “I don’t buy that. So, the question I want answered is why
would you give up your job for the secretary? She’s nobody.”
    No, that was just it. She wasn’t nobody. Not to him. But
admitting that would only make things harder