The Replacement

JESSICA

Bound. Gagged. Spanked. Whipped.

Those words kept churning through my mind like a rolling tide. The mental images my mind provided to accompany them made me wince.

Why did my technically sort-of boss have to resemble Brad Pitt from Troy? Why couldn’t he have a flaw that turned me off?! A receding hairline. Bad teeth. Anything.

I had worked way too hard to get here. I’d overcome so much. All those late nights I spent in university, slaving away. Why the fuck was I even considering jeopardizing my career to be Spencer Michaels’s plaything?

A sub. For God’s sake.

I hadn’t even had a good vanilla fuck in years.

Not since I was eighteen.

There was no room for vulnerability, for weakness, in boardrooms. Meeting people was hard. I didn’t like the men I met in this line of work—they were too arrogant.

But now, here I was, contemplating submitting to Spencer Michaels’s whims.

What was wrong with me?

I didn’t quite know what his proposition would entail, but my interest was undeniable.

Maybe if I…

“Would you agree with that decision, Jessica?”

Calvin’s voice suddenly crashed into the shore of my thoughts like a jarring wave.

“Absolutely!” I blurted, subtly trying to keep my cool as if I hadn’t just come back from a different train of thought. The droning of Calvin and our business partners detailing and discussing the hotel progress had seemed so distant.

Shit! I had completely forgotten I was in a meeting.

“Great.” Calvin eyed me as he spoke. “I think we should finalize the tiling first, and then the rest of the interior design can be properly implemented. This way, we have a base idea of the finished look,” he finished.

“That is one-hundred percent the best move,” I answered, trying to save myself. But Calvin just raised a brow, telling me he knew, and turned back to the two middle-aged partners.

“Brilliant, then that’s the direction we’ll focus our attention on in the coming months,” one said as he rose from his seat. “Keep us updated if there are any changes.”

As the two men left, I stood up and straightened my dress, trying my best to ignore Calvin’s knowing gaze. Christ. Scott gave you one job, Jessica. One job!

“Where’s your head at, doll?” Calvin asked as we exited the boardroom, wasting no time on his interrogation as he loosened his tie knot and checked his slicked-back hair in the mirror.

It amazed me how this man dared to give me a pet name without any reciprocation to his constant flirting, but I was so mentally exhausted I really didn’t care at this point.

“What do you mean?” I asked defensively, still pretending I had no idea what he was talking about.

“The meeting. You were off.”

“I wasn’t off…I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” he guessed, his sharp tone stabbing right into my ego.

He turned around, those crystal blue looking me over. As a nearby elevator dinged, I thought about tearing into Calvin, fighting back at him for the way he spoke to me.

But for some reason, I just sighed. “Okay, you got me. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

It was true. I couldn’t get my mind off Spencer since he’d left me gawking in the lobby the night prior.

“First trip to Italy and straight into meetings,” Calvin listed. “I get it. You need a breather. Spencer is taking a trip down memory lane today, visiting some old familiar haunts and the property vineyards.”

Calvin took a step closer to me—his eyes still locked on mine. But even though I was sure that look had charmed countless women before me, I felt nothing as he continued flirting.

“What do you say you and I have lunch at the Il Piacere just outside the grounds? I know the cooks personally. I’ll make sure they treat you to a meal you’ll never forget. They also have amazing wine.”

And there it was.

Calvin is trying to get in my pants. His flirting had never been playful banter.

But then again, a little distraction right now wouldn’t be so bad. I needed to get my mind off of the one man I should definitely not be thinking about.

“Sure. That sounds nice, Mr. Walters.”

It’s not like you have to sleep with him.

Calvin smiled slyly, looking as if he’d won something.

“Fantastico. Let’s meet around two-ish, doll,” he said, checking his silver Rolex before continuing down the corridor. “And wear something nice.”

Trying not to worry about what happened with Spencer in this same elevator bank a few hours ago, I stepped onto the elevator and went to my suite to get ready.

SPENCER

The breeze was pleasant this morning. I relished in the sunbeams warming my face. Birds chirped all around me.

Beneath my feet was a stone path. Textures and sounds from the world around me meant a lot more now that I could barely see a damn thing.

The vineyards were as I had hoped, well-kept and flourishing. My two guides from the hotel had detailed the current statistics and production values for me before I requested some time alone. I could just make out faint red dots along the path, which I knew to be grapes. Following them would guide me back to the property.

Marinating in my own pain and pity was something I’d done all too often recently. This simple walk through the countryside made me feel more alive with every passing step.

I reached out to pluck one of the grapes from a nearby vine but quickly jerked my hand back after accidentally getting a splinter from the stick holding the vine upright.

Fuck.

Luckily it was just on the surface. I pulled it out and put my finger in my mouth to soothe the sting, then reached for the grape again. This time, I successfully picked it off the vine. Tossing the hard-won fruit between my lips, I savored the dry, sweet juice from the fresh fruit on my tongue.

I can barely see at all anymore. But I can feel, and I can taste.

I’m not dead.

I’d lost so much this past year. My sight. Isy, my now ex-wife. She may have been a mean bitch outside of the bedroom, but she was great sub in it.

Still, I couldn't let my daughter be taken away by her and the court system as well. Leila was the only good thing left in my life. Well, there was this new hire.

Flowing red hair and the voice of a nymph. A slim yet curvaceous silhouette I could just about outline in my mental fantasy of her in good light. She had strutted into our company out of nowhere, thanks to Scott. These days, he had her calling all the shots.

I fucking hated the idea of her replacing me, but Scott had explained to me the work he had been having her do. She was confident, concise, and even took educated risks. Even observing her in the hotel so far, her work was certainly impressive.

Smart, thorough, and considerate. I was beginning to understand what my brother saw in her.

But unlike my brother, it wasn’t just her work ethic that had me so invested. I wanted to take that strong, confident woman and have her kneeling at my feet, willingly. I wanted more than just her body. I wanted her submission. I wanted to run my hands across her smooth skin and listen to her moan.

I wanted to dominate her. No, we were past that—I needed to. I wanted to slam into her until her eyes glazed over, and all that was left were senseless moans. I wanted to make her quiver and come until she was begging me to stop.

Was that an inappropriate use of my position? Yes, maybe. But this woman had left me spellbound. I wanted to charm and flirt with this captivating woman. In order to cross a line with her, I needed her to make a move as well.

The slow progress with her was driving me insane. I liked the chase, but the chemistry between us was out of control. I spent too many of our meetings with my legs crossed and listening to the sound of her voice.

I needed to make her mine.

We’d already kissed, but last night, I needed her to understand the kind of relationship I wanted for us. Still, I wanted her to come to me freely—to choose the pleasure and pain only I could give her.

But now, I was getting impatient.

Continuing down the vineyard path, I took a deep breath and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

I’d get her to come around.

JESSICA

Could food really taste this good? Or does everything just taste amazing in Italy? I contemplated as I chewed my veal parmigiana. The waiter topped off my wine. I thanked him politely as he skillfully turned the bottle to prevent it from dripping.

“Prego. You’re welcome,” he said, nimbly switching from Italian to English before he moved along to another table.

“How’s your food?” Calvin asked with smug delight as he introduced me to the good life.

“Amazing. This place is unbelievable.”

“It really is,” he said. “I was thinking maybe we could come back to Italy again sometime, just the two of us—”

My phone buzzed before he could finish his incredibly inappropriate invitation. “Hold on,” I said, thankful for the interruption. I checked the screen, and my heart sank and fluttered all at once.

“Spencer needs me for something,” I announced, getting up and collecting my purse. “It sounds urgent.”

Calvin gave me a puzzled and slightly annoyed look but brightened quickly. “Spencer, Spencer, Spencer,” he chuckled. “All right, then. Get to it, doll. Tell him he owes me for this meal.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, almost giddy.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

As I exited the restaurant, I felt my cheeks burn up at the sight of the gorgeous man leaning against a waiting limo.

“Get in, Mio Piccolo Topo,” Spencer said calmly. “We’re going for a drive.”