Her Old-Fashioned Boss (3 page)

Mind you, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Ava was entirely too tempting, he wanted to train her, control her, protect her.

Possess her.

Maybe he should tell her that. It would have her running in less than ten seconds. Then he could hire himself someone he wasn’t attracted to in the slightest. Someone older, married, independent. Someone who’d stand up to him when needed. Not someone he’d spend all his time imagining in his bed or kneeling at his feet.

Dammit, where was Sam?

Ava shuddered, and his attention turned from his thoughts back to her. She nervously licked her lips, her eyes wide as she stared at him with a mix of interest and trepidation.

“What sorts of clubs do I own, Ava?” he asked.

“BDSM clubs, Sir.”

His cock throbbed.
Down, boy.
The
Sir
coming from her lips had sounded natural and far too sexy for his state of mind.

“And do you have any problems with working for the owner of several BDSM clubs?”

She shook her head, her long, dark hair moving about her head. “No, Sir.”

Roarke dropped his gaze to her lap where she was wringing her hands anxiously.

“Have you ever been to a BDSM club before?” he asked, quelling the urge to soothe her.

“No, Sir.”

He raised a brow. A complete novice. He wondered what sort of men she went for. Probably easy, sweet men who bored her in thirty seconds. Roarke shook off the thought. It was none of his business who she dated; he was hiring her to be his personal assistant. His old personal assistant had retired months ago and Sam had insisted that he needed one. He’d been relying on Sam too much to help him with the office work. He’d interviewed four other people before Ava.

None of them had intrigued him in the slightest.

He should hire one of them. But he wanted Ava. He hadn’t felt his much for anyone other than Sam in, well, too long to remember.

Hell, no way he should hire her. Not when he was this damn attracted to her. He had a strict rule about not getting involved with employees. Too messy, especially with the type of business he was in.

“Ms. Scott,” he said, deliberately using her last name to get them back on a more formal level. 

“Yes?” she asked.

Roarke mulled over what to do. Hire her? Or tell her he couldn’t hire her but he wanted to fuck her?

 Sam walked through the door, carrying a red bucket, a first aid kit tucked under his arm. His lover grinned and winked at him before Ava turned, spotting him.

Sam kneeled at her feet and put the bucket down.

“Shoes off, sweetie,” Sam said gently.

“Umm, what?” She gaped at him.

“Shoes off. I want to take care of those feet of yours. I bet you’ve got blisters on top of blisters.”

“Do as he says, Ava. He won't be happy until he's taken care of you. In fact, maybe we should just throw those shoes away for you,” Roarke stated.

“No!” she told him with a glare. Not so timid then. Damn, he found her hot. “They’re not my shoes. And my feet are fine, really.”

“Let me be the judge of that, sweetheart,” Sam replied. “Off. Now.”

Roarke raised his eyebrows, surprised by the firmness in Sam’s voice. Roarke realized then that letting her walk out that door wasn’t an option. Because Sam wanted her too.

Ahh, bliss.

Ava closed her eyes as her Sam carefully removed her uncomfortable shoes and placed her aching feet in the warm water. She should protest. This was, well, weird to say the least. This had to be the strangest interview she'd ever had. And she'd had a few doozies.

“Really, you don't have to do this,” she said half-heartedly.

“But I want to,” Sam replied. “You keep them soaking then I'll bandage your feet up.”

“How did you manage to get blisters just from walking from your car?” Roarke asked.

“I don't have a car, I took the bus,” she said, distractedly as Sam lifted one foot free and placed it on his towel-covered lap. Okay, now this she should definitely argue against this. Not only did she not know this man caring for her feet so tenderly, but she did not want him getting up close and personal with her bony, ugly feet.

“I can do that,” she told him frantically, trying to lift her foot free. He clasped it gently but firmly. “Sit still.” Sam didn't have the forceful persona that Roarke did, but he injected enough authority in his voice to have her stilling.

“The bus?” Roarke said loudly, not yelling, but she jumped nevertheless. “You took the bus here?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, not sure what he was so upset about. “I'm not familiar with this area, though, so I got off too early and had to walk the last few blocks. That's why my feet are sore. I'm just not used to high shoes like these.”

Roarke frowned fiercely and Ava found herself shrinking back instinctively. But she forced herself to straighten her shoulders. If she got the job then she needed to find some backbone. She couldn't wilt each time he grew angry.

“You shouldn't be taking the bus,” Roarke told her. “Anything could happen, it’s not safe. What the hell does your boyfriend say?”

Ava frowned. “I don’t have a boyfriend and even if I did he’d have no say in how I got around. And if I don’t take the bus then how am I supposed to get anywhere? I don't own a car. I don't even have a license. The bus is perfectly safe.”

Well, most of the time,
she told herself. She glanced down at Sam as he put some antibacterial ointment on her feet and wrapped them up. Looking up, she found Roarke scowling down at her as he leaned forward on the desk.

“There’s no need for you to take public transport to and from work,” he stated. “I may need you at odd hours and I will not have Sam worrying about your safety walking the streets and using public transport at night. You will make use of my driver and car. Sam will arrange it.” He stood abruptly. “Sam, get her a contract and take her through her job. Get Max to drive her home so he knows where she lives. I'll see you Monday morning, 8am sharp.”

With that he walked around his desk and left the room. Ava just sat there for a moment, remembering to breathe.

Sam patted her knee and stood. Where he touched her, the skin burned deliciously.

“You get used to him, sweets. Now, you just sit there. Actually, we should put your feet up.” Looking around, he grabbed an ottoman from in front of the fireplace and dragged it over. Scooping up her feet, he placed them on the foot rest. “That's better. Don't move. I'm going to empty this water and get the paperwork for you. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“Does-does this mean I'm hired?” she asked, still in shock.

Sam grinned. “You certainly are, sweetheart. And I for one am looking very forward to working with you.” With a wink, he left the room.

Ava glanced around with a feeling of disbelief. She pinched herself. Part of her wondered whether she should take this job. After all, this attraction she felt to both men could end up a problem. Plus, she didn’t know how long she could put up with Roarke’s autocratic ways without bopping him on the head.

“Right, here is the paperwork,” Sam said as he walked back in. He placed a thin document on the desk in front of her. As she reached for the contract, he grabbed her hand. Ava looked up at him, shocked by the zing of electricity, but he was too busy frowning at her hand to notice her reaction.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“What?” She looked down at her hand. “Oh, I umm, well, I pinched myself.”

Sam looked into her eyes, his electric blue gaze holding her spell bound. “You're not dreaming, sweetheart. I promise. Although I should tell you that there will be occasions when you might consider this job a bit of a nightmare. He's grouchy in the mornings, he's a bear when you get his coffee wrong, and he'll want you to work when he wants, where he wants.”

Ava gulped.

“He also pays damn well, provides fantastic benefits and is protective as hell. I promise you, sweetheart, we'll take care of you. Just be prepared. He can be a bit bossy.”

“Really?” she drawled, finding some bravado from somewhere. “I hadn't noticed. Apparently, I won't be taking buses anymore?” Roarke didn't seem like he joked around, but then she couldn't be sure, having just met him.

Sam grinned and rocked back on his feet. “Sweets, I haven't taken a bus in five years. And the one time a taxi instead of calling for Max to pick me up, I couldn't sit comfortably for days.”

Ava felt her eyes widen. “He-he hit you?” she squeaked, looking him over. Roarke was a large guy, sure, more muscular than Sam. But Sam was no lightweight. And why would Roarke have beaten him?

Oh bubbles, what am I getting myself in for?

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Sam reached for her hand, clasping it between his. “Come on, breathe for me now. Damn, I ought to be shot. Don't faint on me. Breathe. In. Out. Good girl.”

Ava stared into his concerned gaze, her cheeks glowing as she realized she'd just had a small panic attack.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

“Hmm.” Sam seemed to ponder this before he lifted her feet and sat on the ottoman, placing her feet on his lap. She tried to pull them back but he held them easily.

“You know what sort of clubs Roarke owns, don't you, sweets?” he asked.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you know what a dominant and a submissive are?”

Blushing, she lowered her gaze. Sam gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweets. You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know you,” she whispered.

“But we’re going to get to know each other, aren’t we? I want to get to know you, Ava.”

Lordy, it would take a stronger woman than her to stand up to the charisma this man had.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. From your reaction, I’m guessing you know what a dominant and a submissive are. Have you ever been in a relationship with a Dom?”

“What? No, ahh, but I’ve read about it, about BDSM stuff before.”

“Hmm. Reality can be a bit different than fiction. I’m Roarke’s submissive, sweets. I’ve given my body, my heart and my soul to him. He owns me. Not in a horrible, abusive way, but a way that makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world to him. When I’m with Roarke, I feel safe, protected, loved, because he takes care of me. He’s my Master, I want to make him happy, to care for him. I need that sense of belonging.”

“That doesn’t freak you out, giving him so much control?” she asked, fascinated.

“Oh, it used to in the beginning. Roarke can be fairly overbearing at times, and he’s horribly protective.”

“He hits you.”

Sam eyed her, as if evaluating whether she could handle the truth. “He doesn’t hit me with his fists. I’ve been spanked, caned, flogged and orgasm deprived—that one’s the worst by the way. But Roarke always explained why I was being punished, and at any time I could say my safe word.”

She nodded slowly. “And have you?”

“No. Because I trust him. I love him. He’s not just my Dom, he’s my soul mate.”

Tears welled in her eyes at the love in his voice. Relief battled with disappointment at the realization they were gay. They were completely off limits.

“Are you just his submissive in the bedroom?” she asked curiously. Warmth invaded her cheeks. “Sorry, that was probably a bit forward.”

Sam smiled easily. “That’s okay, sweets. I’m submissive to Roarke in the bedroom, but I’m not his slave. We’re not twenty-four seven, although we can’t turn off who we are when we leave the bedroom. I tend to submit to Roarke in most things.” He rubbed her hand. “All of this can be kind of confusing in the beginning.”

She shook her head.
Could it ever.

“Doing okay?” Sam asked kindly. “Still want to work here?”

She stilled, thinking. “Yes. I mean, I’m sure there will be aspects of BDSM I find a bit different or don’t understand, but everyone should be free to live the life they want as long as they’re not hurting others.”

“Good girl. Just remember everything that goes on between us or in our clubs is consensual. And if you have any questions, you just let me know.”

“I don’t think that will be needed, since Ms. Scott won’t be going into the club,” Roarke said. Ava started, turning to glance at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected to see him again today.

“I won’t?”

“She won’t?” Sam asked at the same time.

“No, you won’t. You’re banned from the club during opening hours unless I am with you. I see you have the contract. You may take it home with you, but it is strictly confidential. Be sure you want to work here, Ms. Scott.”

“Ahh, what happened to your last assistant?” she asked.

Did his lips just twitch or was it a grimace?

“Probably gas,” she muttered.

“Pardon me?” Roarke asked, looking at her with bewilderment.

“Uhh, talking to myself. Sorry, bad habit.”
Oh bubbles, how mortifying!

“That so?” he said, peering at her interestedly. “Well, my last PA isn’t tied up in my dungeon if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He had a dungeon?
“She retired six months ago and Sam’s sick of running around after me.”

Ava nodded, forcing herself to look up at him.

“Max is ready with the car now.” He frowned. “Are your feet okay to walk on?”

“They’ll be fine,” she said quickly.

He ignored her. “Sam?”

Sam glanced down at her feet thoughtfully. “Should be okay, as long as she promises to go home and rest up.” 

“They’re just blisters, guys,” she said with exasperation. “I’ve had far worse.”

Roarke simply stared at her until she dropped her gaze. “You will go home. You will rest. And you will read that contract. I will expect you here at 8am Monday unless I hear otherwise from you. Understand?” His voice would allow no argument.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” His praise made her feel ridiculously happy. “Sam will escort you out.”

Roarke disappeared once more and Ava was quiet as Sam helped her out to the waiting car, the contract tightly held in her hand.

Somehow, she just knew this interview would change her life forever.