Because He Plays Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Seven)

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opyright
© 2016 by Hannah Ford

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C
ALLUM

A
ddiction
.

There were times it didn’t consume me -- hours, days, weeks, sometimes even months.

But it was always present, lurking under the surface like a demon hiding under the bed, just waiting for me to let my guard down so it could come out and strike.

As soon as I found out Rose was dead, it came alive, pushed itself through my body until it settled in my mind, my bones, my blood.

Whiskey. Vodka. Gin. Rum.

Most addicts had a drink of choice. But not me. As long as it got my fucked up, as long as it obliterated my thoughts, I didn’t give a shit what it tasted like.

I wasn’t in love with Rose.

I’d never been in love with Rose.

If I was capable of love, which I was almost certainly not, I would be in love with Adriana.

Adriana.

Just the thought of her was enough to demolish me, to cause my chest to ache with need for her body, her mind, her lips, her legs, her kiss, her touch.

I walked quickly down the hallway of the Plaza to my own hotel room, resisting the urge to go back to her room and slip back into bed beside her.

I slid my key card into the door and stepped into my room.

The sheets on the bed in here were rumpled, tousled, a reminder of last night and how I couldn’t sleep without her next to me.

I’d already broken so many of my rules with her. I’d thought the contract would be enough to protect myself, that forcing her to give me control of her body, her life, her heart would provide the control I needed. But last night, on the carousel, the way it had felt to be inside of her, her heart beating against mine, the wind pushing the strands of her hair against my face as I fucked her, her hands tied together with my belt… I had never felt closer to anyone in my life.

So close that I’d needed space when we arrived to the hotel.

So close that I hadn’t answered the phone when Rose called.

And it was because of Adriana.

She’d gotten under my skin, into my heart, into my head.

And now Rose was dead.

And it was my fault.

I paused for a minute, and then before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and picked up the hotel phone.

I should have used my cell phone, but there was a message on there from Rose, and I wasn’t ready to hear that, wasn’t ready to face it. Plus, if I was being completely honest with myself, I didn’t want any record of the call I was about to make, any reminder of what I was about to do.

I dialed my office.

My assistant, Ray, would have been there since 5 am. I only hired male assistants now, after learning a few lessons about female assistants and their tendency to get attached to their bosses.

“Mr. Wilder,” Ray said when he answered on my private line. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Ray,” I said, and I was already justifying it to myself, the burn, the taste, the fucking relief. “Have a bottle of whiskey ready for me when I get to the office.”

“Whiskey, sir?” He sounded confused, because I had never made such a request. He didn’t know my history. No one did. Except Adriana. The thought of her made my heart clench, and for a moment, I almost stopped myself, told Ray never mind, almost went back to the hotel room I’d just come from and climbed back into bed with her.

Almost.

“Yes. The most expensive one you can find.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hung up the phone.

I wasn’t thinking about Rose.

I wasn’t thinking about Adriana.

I was thinking about the sweet burn of the whiskey as it slid down my throat.

A
DRIANA

A
fter Callum left my room
, I laid there for a moment with the blanket wrapped tightly around me. The curtains on the windows were blackout curtains, the kind designed for the express purpose of keeping the light out, and the room was dark and still.

My feet were cold and I pushed them into the blanket and curled my toes into the fabric as I listened for any sound in the hall, any sign that Callum might be coming back, the way he had last night.

But there was nothing.

In fact, the hotel was eerily quiet.

There weren’t any of the noises you’d expect to hear in a hotel -- the sound of a maid knocking on a door, the hum of murmured voices, the clink of a room service cart.

Rich people expected their hotels to be silent, I supposed.

I got up walked to the closet. Inside I found a simple black dress and black high heels that Callum had picked for me. Or had his assistant pick for me, whatever.

Anger burned hot through my veins, and I was upset that he’d just left like that, that he’d just taken off and shut down. I was trying to play by his rules, was trying to do what he asked of me, but it seemed like every time we took a step forward, we took two steps back.

Or he
pushed
us two steps back.

For a moment, I wanted to leave this hotel, to say fuck him and go back to my apartment and dress in my own clothes, shower in my own shower, use my stupid two dollar coconut-lime body wash instead of whatever expensive products were sure to be in the hotel bathroom.

The only thing keeping me from doing it was the desire burning through my body, and the fact that I was worried about him.

Rose was dead.

Callum obviously had some deep emotional issues when it came to her, issues that were tied to his drinking, his family, his need to control. And now she was dead after he’d ignored her call last night. The way he’d gotten up this morning and announced was going to work as if it were any other day… it made me nervous.

I sighed and walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, deciding I would get ready at the hotel after all, telling myself I didn’t have time to go home anyway.

W
hen I arrived
at work an hour later, there was a pit of dread in my stomach, not just because of Callum, but because of Kiersten. She knew I’d been spending time with Callum and she’d pretty much threatened to ruin my career because of it. And I
still
hadn’t told her about Dean Bellingham, how he’d given me his card and told me to call him.

Just relax,
I told myself as I smoothed my dress down and stepped off the elevator.
If Kiersten wanted to fire you, she would have done it yesterday.

I would win her over.

I would work hard, I would stay late, I would go above and beyond, I would do whatever was asked of me with a smile and without a complaint.

“Good morning!” Peggy the receptionist greeted me warmly as I walked by on my way to my cubicle.

“Good morning!” I smiled back, deciding my new attitude would start with me fake smiling all the time and hoping it didn’t make me look like a lunatic. My heart was pounding as I passed Kiersten’s office, but her door was shut, the blinds snapped tightly shut.

When I got to my desk, there was a huge bouquet of wildflowers sitting next to my computer, all in bright hues of yellow, orange, red, blue.

I frowned. Had Callum sent me flowers?

I reached for the card.

Thinking of you…

That was it.

Just
“Thinking of you…”

No signature.

“More flowers?” a voice asked cheerfully.

I jumped and turned to see Bailey, my co-worker, standing next to me. Her long red hair was pulled back from her face and her green eyes were brushed with smoky purple shadow.

“Um, yeah,” I said, picking up the flowers and setting them down on the floor underneath my desk. The last thing I needed was Kiersten seeing them and thinking they were from Callum.
Were
they from Callum? They had to be. Who else would send me flowers?

And yet something felt off about it.

Thinking of you…

That was a very strange thing for Callum to write. Thinking of you? Why would he send me flowers with a card that said “thinking of you” on the morning that Rose died? Unless he’d somehow arranged to have them sent last night, so that they’d be waiting for me in the morning?

Thinking of you.

It didn’t sound like something Callum would say. But who the hell else would have sent me flowers? Dean Bellingham. I wasn’t sure why, but his name blazed through my brain.

But that was ridiculous. I hadn’t even heard from Dean since the day he’d given me his card and told me to call him. Why would he have sent me flowers and not signed his name?

I couldn’t stop staring at the card. Even the script on it was odd. Usually when someone ordered flowers from a flower shop, the card was either typed or written in a neat script by a flower shop employee making sure to be extra careful. This was scrawled, almost like it had been an afterthought.

It left a weird feeling in my stomach, and I tried to tell myself that of course they were from Callum, that maybe he’d just been in a rush, or that maybe someone at the shop had gotten the message wrong.

“Who are they from?” Bailey asked.

“Just.. um, they’re from my mom.” I sat down at my desk and jiggled the mouse on my computer, waiting for it to wake up and hoping I could pretend I was busy doing something so that Bailey would go away. I pulled up my email and opened a message from HR about how they were going to be offering new healthy menu options in the cafeteria since “YOUR HEALTH IS OUR PRIORITY!”

I squinted at the screen and put a thoughtful look on my face, like I was really interested.

“Your mom?” Bailey demanded. “Again?”

“We’re in a fight.”

“About what?”

“About something she…my sister’s getting married and she was giving her a lot of attention.” It was the lamest thing I could come up with. At least my sister really was getting married -- that part wasn’t a lie. Which reminded me that I really needed to call my family. I hadn’t talked to my mom since that day she called me when I was on Callum’s jet.

Bailey narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. “I’m going to win you over,” she announced.

“What?” I swallowed and looked up at her. She was leaning back against my desk.

“You obviously have a thing about trusting people.”

“No, I don’t!”

“So you’re hiding something.”

“What? No.”

She picked up a strand of auburn hair and twirled it around her finger. “Either you don’t trust me or you’re hiding something. There’s no other reason that you would shove those flowers under your desk and make up some lame excuse about them being from your mom.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gave me a knowing grin. “Whatever. Listen, a bunch of us from work are going out tonight. You should come.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

She pulled out her phone. “What’s your number?”

I gave it to her and she entered it into her contacts. Her nails were painted a dark plum that matched her eye shadow. I felt myself soften. She was being nice to me, and I was being kind of rude to her for no good reason.

“Thanks,” I said honestly. “It would be nice to get to know some people from the office.”

“See?” she said, smiling. “I told you I’d win you over.” She leaned in, and her ponytail slid over her shoulder. “And now I’m going to give you some gossip.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know Dean Bellingham?”

“Yes.” I felt heat rise in my cheeks and I prayed Bailey wouldn’t notice.

“Rumor has it him and Kiersten are, like, an item. And that’s how she was able to steal his book from his first publisher.” Her eyes widened. “Can you believe it? She, like, slept with him in order to get his book.”

“Maybe she really likes him.”

“Maybe.” Bailey shrugged. “Anyway, the reason I came over here is to let you know there’s a staff meeting at 9. Conference Room C. Kiersten wanted me to tell everyone. It’s our meeting for next season’s launch, so don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

Bailey went back to her desk and I grabbed a fresh notebook out of my desk drawer. I powered up my iPad and pulled up my work email. I was going to prove to Kiersten I could do this job if it killed me.

I
arrived
at Conference Room C at exactly 8:55, figuring it was better to be early. But everyone else must have had that thought, too, since most of the chairs at the long conference table were already occupied. There were folding chairs set up around the perimeter, but those were starting to get filled, too. There were people there from marketing, from publicity, from editorial…there was a conference phone set up in the middle of the long conference table, and a screen against the wall that I knew was there so that we could Skype with the reps from Barnes and Noble.

I knew the meeting wasn’t exclusive if so many people were invited. But it was what I’d always dreamed about. This was my chance to learn more about exactly how publishing worked.

I spotted an empty chair near the back of the room and I was halfway there when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I whirled around.

Kiersten. Her hair was soft and loose around her shoulders today, her eye shadow soft tones of gray to compliment her chic navy blue shift dress.

“Good morning, Kiersten,” I said.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I was going to find a seat in the back.” My voice sounded like I was apologizing, when I realized I had no idea what I’d done wrong. “I’m sorry, did you need me to do something?”

“Yes,” she said, and her voice was friendly, but the tone didn’t match the expression on her face. “I do need you to do something for me. I need you to get out of here.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “You’re not needed at this meeting,” she said.

“But –”

“You can shut the door behind you,” she said, as she brushed by me to her seat near the end of the conference table.