It was implemented in my upbringing, in the life that was chosen for me.
Turns out, there are limits to that, too, because Knox is a fucking manipulator.
There’s this thing he invented that’s called “convincing sessions.” They all happen in that supply room he caught me in three days ago. They all start with his hand around my throat and end with me on the floor or against the wall as he wrenches violent pleasure out of me.
Then he uses my mouth and marks me with his cum.
“I’m still not convinced. Try harder tomorrow.” Are his words after we finish.
Or more like, he finishes, because I’m a marionette in his hands. A doll he can do whatever he pleases with. I probably should fight harder, push him away, and stop this endless loop.
But what’s the point when I can’t remove him from my head? Not only that, but I’ve also started looking forward to coming to work, to being cornered by him. I’ve even grown fond of that small nook that I was going to use as my hideout for when I do research on the life I left behind. Or when I used the firm’s servers to learn more about what’s going on between its walls.
And maybe, just maybe, that first taste I had a few weeks ago has turned me into an addict. Maybe I’m craving more of it and stupidly telling myself “one more time.”
But he’s keeping me on the edge. He hasn’t fucked me, and I’m sure it’s not because there isn’t a condom.
It’s a game of his, something that he enjoys doing to make me frustrated.
But if he thinks I’ll give him the satisfaction of asking for it, he’ll have to wait a long time. We’ll see who will give in first in this game.
God. This is so different from who I am. What I am. I don’t usually let anyone play with me—not that they ever got close enough to do so. But now, the promise itself makes my skin tingle with something I’ve never been allowed to feel before.
Excitement.
And maybe that’s dangerous. Maybe I should say no. But for the life of me, I can’t.
It’s harmless fun. Just sex.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
I plug in my earbuds and hit Play on my “Oldies” playlist. The sound of the eighties and nineties rock music puts me in a serene mood. I’ve always been a lover of vintage music, even though new technology is my jam. I’m a paradox that way.
I rarely listen to my music when I’m working, but ever since I encountered the hostile situation Chad and Ben have been creating, I’ve become religious about it. Not only do I get to enjoy good music, but I also get to tune them out.
Win-win.
I think they’re mostly jealous and while I don’t pay them much attention, I also don’t stay quiet when they start throwing jabs my way. I might not make eye contact with them, but I won’t allow anyone to treat me as if I’m a pushover.
A finger taps my shoulder while I’m typing away and I pause, thinking it’s one of them coming to start shit.
It’s not.
The girl who’s looking down at me smiles widely and holds out a small basket of baked goods. Her name is Gwyneth—or Gwen, as she asked me to call her.
She’s a pre-law student who’s interning at W&S during the summer and we’re the same age. We met two days ago and I had her help me with a new system I was creating. Ever since then, she’s started coming to the IT department frequently because the other interns are avoiding her.
I didn’t know why at the time, but she told me yesterday that she’s actually Kingsley Shaw’s daughter. As in, the Shaw of Weaver & Shaw, and apparently, that makes everyone wary of her. She’s even interning for Nathaniel himself. I know he doesn’t really take interns, but it makes sense since she’s the daughter of his partner, who can’t monitor his daughter due to being in a coma.
I remove my earbuds and offer her a small smile back.
“I brought you cupcakes.” She pushes the basket at my chest. “I had to save some from Daniel. He’s a cupcake monster.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t make them all the time. I heard everyone wants some now.”
“It’s okay. I like it when I make people happy through cupcakes.” She looks at Chad and Ben. “Not those nerds, though.”
They glare at her and she places a hand on her hip and glares right back. She developed an animosity toward them on my behalf after she heard them call me Plain Jane. She has a weirdly cute sense of justice, which is different from Knox’s warped one.
When I learned her identity and that she’s actually known Knox, Daniel, and the other partners for years, I contemplated asking her to convince Knox about taking the girl’s case. However, that would mean sharing too much information with someone I just met. Besides, I don’t want anyone to know about what Knox and I have.