10. Lia

10

LIA

I'm waking up and choosing violence—which Pride and Prejudice is the better one? And why can't we go back in time and have one with Kiera Knightly AND Colin Firth in it? Or—and hear me out—Keanu?

OR…Colin Firth and Keanu?

I don't really care which one would play Elizabeth, as long as they both end up in lakes with white shirts eventually.

From @rosepetalromances

I don't understand why we have to pitch icons against one another! What if instead we just had an all the Darcies at once Why Choose?

From @zibzubbathtub

Or…an all the Darcies Omegaverse?

From @boooksnbeeers

Dibs on being the omega!

From @catcusprincess12216

M y dad yelled at me, but he didn't turn off my key card—and I didn't need a driver when I had Uber on my phone. Ruiz wasn't there on Sunday-night-going-into-Monday morning but once I explained to the regular cleaner who'd come back that I was helping whether they wanted me to or not, they assumed I was a crazy lady and let me.

I was sure my dad had chewed Rhaim out, if how angry he'd been at me had been any indication. But I didn't want to wait around in my apartment for him to reach out to me—if he even would have—and showing up in his office in a power suit, like this whole past week hadn't happened would've been a lie.

So I'd turned up again, here, to put my shift in, safe beneath the brightness of the office lights, exhausting myself past anxiety with hard labor.

I was working my way down the twentieth-floor hallway when I heard footsteps coming up from behind. Assuming it was the other guy coming to check up on me, I stopped and turned—and saw him.

Rhaim's eyes ran over me more than once, like he was afraid I might have been an apparition. Then he demanded, "What are you doing here?"

I ducked my head a little, taking a step back towards the protection of the wheeled bin I'd been hauling along behind me.

"What I was told, sir." Then I remembered what time it was. I'd finished my dinner "break"; it was just past 5 a.m. "Why are you here?" I asked.

He was in some sort of rugged outdoorsy get up—a flannel coat, slightly dusty jeans, and barn boots—like he belonged on the cover of Cattle Rustlers GQ . His dark features were pulled into a serious frown, and he squinted before he spoke next.

"To pack my things. I've got my truck outside. I told your father I'd rather leave than help you."

I blinked, with a gasp. "But—why?"

"To prove who runs this company," he reached into his wallet and brought his keycard to bear over his assistant's office keypad, and I heard it beep open for him. "I'm just here to get my bottle of 1965 St. Magdalene."

I trotted up after him, the bin I was hauling forgotten. My keycard didn't work on any of the interior rooms, so I hadn't had a chance to go in there after he was gone—and sure enough to his word, he was striding to the back of his assistant's office to open a bar's liquor cabinet to rifle through.

"If you don't teach me, who will?" I asked from the doorway.

"I don't care—and it's not my problem. Your dad will find someone for you, I'm sure."

"But I don't want to learn from just anyone."

"Too bad we don't always get what we want in life," he said, having found the bottle he was looking for. He pulled it out and walked towards his own office door at the back. "That's another lesson you should probably learn."

I followed him, just in time to watch him methodically go through his desk.

"And just what was this lesson supposed to teach me?" I asked, plucking at my janitorial uniform, growing more irritated by the moment.

And also—more afraid.

What if I'd pushed my hand too far and missed my chance with him entirely?

He didn't bother glancing over, intent on finding something, roughly going through one desk drawer at a time. "You tell me," he muttered.

"Humility?" I guessed, taking a step in. "Maybe compassion?"

He looked over at me and rolled his eyes. "Feelings? You think I wanted to teach you feelings?" he said, with the utmost disdain.

"Respect," I went on, slightly more firmly. "The value of a dollar. The value of time. What it's like to work hard."

He inhaled, as his hands finally found what they were looking for. An artfully cut glass tumbler. He pulled it out and put it into one of his flannel's large pockets, then started sorting through the papers on his desk he'd left behind.

"I'm good at lessons," I said, and heard him snort. "I mean it."

I'd worked so hard half my life just for the chance to get to be with him, and here I was, feeling him slip away, like a rip cord racing across my palm that I was unable to grab hold of.

If he left I'd never have an excuse to see him again in my life—and if that happened, I didn't know what remained for me.

Taking over Corvo wasn't enough all on its own.

"Please," I asked, from the safety of his threshold.

He looked over at that, his face cruelly glowering. "Please what?" he snarled.

"Just," I began, but before I could say any of the things I wanted to, that I knew would sound either foolish or insane, about how I knew we were meant to be together, and that he was mine, "please." I slowly got down on my hands and knees.

It was what he'd said he'd wanted at the club, so what of it?

I'd already been worshiping him for a decade.

I kept my head bowed down as I slowly made my way forward, the short Berber of his office's carpeting putting patterns on my palms. I didn't want to see whatever face it was he was making—if he was upset with me still, or about to laugh, I couldn't handle it. I did hear him moving though, until the dusty boots he was wearing appeared in front of me.

He remembered what he'd said too.

Which meant that maybe I wasn't out on this swaying limb alone. My heart thrilled inside my chest. Everything between my legs squeezed. And as I took a moment on all fours to contemplate the enormity of my situation, I heard his breathing, rough as mine.

So I buffed the top of one of his boots with a sleeve and prepared to lick it, exactly as he'd asked at the club, prior. I lowered myself to my forearms, one by one, practically prostrating myself in front of him, in steel gray dungarees.

I was the perfect little girl, goddammit.

I just needed him to know it.

And he waited, up until it was clear I wasn't stopping, just as the tip of my tongue had parted my lips, before pulling that particular boot away from me.

"Get up," he said like a curse.

I didn't know how to feel, elated or scared—I knew I'd pushed things, the only question was if I'd judged him right.

"Why?" I asked, looking up at him adoringly.

Unfamiliar emotions streaked across his face like fast moving thunderclouds. "Because it's too early for me to drink—and watching you down there makes me want to."

"Will you stay?" I asked him, with a desperate hitch in my voice.

His eyes took a long moment to search mine before answering. "Yes." Then he took a step away from me, like he was afraid I might kiss his feet in gratitude. "Go home and get some sleep, Lia," he said, his voice dark and low. "Come back tomorrow, and we'll begin your instruction."

I swallowed, and made my way to standing, pulling down my uniform from all the places that it'd ridden up—and I wasn't the only one being treated unkindly by my clothing. Rhaim's erection, long, thick, and low slung, was clearly trapped against the hip crease of his jeans, begging to get free, the same as when I'd felt it riding against my ribs at Vertigo when he'd spanked me. It was hard to look anywhere else—because fuck —fuck— fuck — all I wanted was him in me .

But I knew from the expression on his face that if I said anything right now, he'd personally kick me out of Corvo and demagnetize my keycard.

I managed to look him just in the eyes, nod quickly instead, and say "Yes, sir. See you then" smartly, before darting around him to the rest of the offices outside.