Command
Автор
Zainab Sambo
Прочтений
15,4K
Глав
107
Beth’s world shatters when she’s taken by the man everyone calls a monster. Rogue is cold, ruthless, and broken in ways she can’t yet understand. But the longer she’s trapped in his shadow, the more cracks she sees in his armor—and the more her fear starts to burn into something she can’t name. Desire. Defiance. Dangerous tenderness. He wants to own her; she wants to survive him. Yet somewhere between hatred and longing, their hearts rewrite the rules. Now Beth must decide: escape the man who stole her freedom, or stay with the one who taught her what it means to truly feel alive.
Chapter 1
I’m the queen. This is my castle. Give me a throne, and I’ll sit on it.
Tuesday’s mantra was the best. It was better than Monday’s Do it till you make it. It was kind of aggravating when you tried to achieve a Monday goal but ended up on the receiving end of disappointment.
That was why, when Monday pissed me off, Tuesday’s mantra was always there to set off the fireworks. It stared me in the face and told me exactly what I needed to hear.
I was like a god on Tuesday, and I made sure I dressed up for it. Maybe someone might look at me and think I was extra, but I didn’t care.
Every day had its own mood. No one got to mess up my Tuesday. Even God’s plans for me were being halted.
The dog that constantly barked in my neighbor’s flat gave me a break.
I wore yellow. I don’t mean a dull yellow.
The kind of yellow that would get people staring and cringing. And on top of the yellow dress and heels, my hoops were huge and blue.
I finished the look with hair so big and curled that I grimaced every time I remembered I’d have to brush it out. It was worth it.
I’d learned that you couldn’t live life trying to please others at the expense of who you truly are. If I’d learned anything about Americans, it’s that they felt the need to give their input on things that didn’t concern them, so I might as well give them something to talk about at the dinner table.
The roar of honking traffic filled my ears. It never got better.
It only ever got worse, and I should have been used to it by now. I’d been here for over a year, and I still hated it.
I missed the cold weather in London. I missed my friends, but I still loved New York.
We were like a married couple—sometimes we got along, and sometimes we didn’t, like today.
New York drivers were a different breed. They wouldn’t mind running you over if it came to it, or soaking you with puddle water. They didn’t even mind sticking their heads out of their windows to scream at you.
Sometimes, they gave the finger, and other times, I gave it right back.
“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you couldn’t imagine not having it?” There were two things in my life I felt that way about: morning coffee and a day when the CEO of our company got fired.
I needed to remember that the day would come. The day would come when he’d be kicked out. I just had to ignore the fact that the owner of the company was the manager’s brother. That wasn’t a tiny hiccup, was it?
It was all I could think about as I watched his bloated face while he fired off nonsense after nonsense, which everyone called Robert free time because what he talked about had nothing to do with the company.
I kid you not. We had to patiently wait until he finished ranting about useless things before the official meeting started, which he barely paid attention to.
Seriously, who gave this man a job?
Robert Sinclair stood at the head of the boardroom table and droned on and on about how his friend bought a yacht for the third time because Robert had bought his third one last week. He continued to gloat and brag about how he had competitive friends, and how we were all so lucky to be poor enough not to care about what our poor friends were doing.
I fought the urge to slam my head against the table because this was not the priority. The priority was the sales that had been going down for weeks, and we needed to find a solution to that. Preferably a brand that could help our company boost sales and increase profits.
Without money flowing in, I couldn’t get my monthly Fenty shopping fix, which had turned into an addiction. Sometimes, I wondered about my old job and the what-ifs. I think this was my punishment, having to listen to Robert’s brags.
Sliding a glance at Ken, the man sitting next to me, I noticed a magazine in front of him. Without asking, I slid it toward me. At least this would entertain me for a few minutes.
Rogue Slade graced the front cover of the magazine. Shocking. Not. He was on every front page and every bloody channel.
It was annoying and sickening. He was American royalty, and a year ago, I used to think no one could be as popular or talked about as Mason Campbell, but alas, every country seemed to have its own Campbell—or at least, a different one.
Staring into the face of Rogue Slade gave me the creeps. The expensive Armani suit did nothing but draw attention to his ripped muscles and broad shoulders.
It was difficult not to look at him—more difficult still to look away. If someone told me Rogue was a demon, I would jump to believe it.
The way he watched you, even from a stupid magazine or on TV, would make the hairs on your neck rise a little. His gaze burned right through your skull with so much focus and stillness that I had only ever seen in dead people with their eyes open.
I quickly flipped the magazine over before I could inspect him any further. I could only handle a few seconds of looking at him, though it felt more like ten minutes.
Any more time, and I’d be possessed. No, seriously. Possession was real. I was not going to take my chances.
My hands were clenched, and I shared a look with Hanna Sinclair, my greatest friend and ally. If zombies overran the world, I knew she would be one of the people who made the world feel less dead.
“Did you hear?” she remarked excitedly, pulling me back into the present. Her blue eyes were brighter than ever, sparkling with endless excitement.
There were only two possible reasons for that: something great, or something terrible.
“Hear what?” I asked, realizing the atmosphere in the boardroom was lighter. Faces were glowing.
Through the murmurs circling the space, I couldn’t detect anything specific. I carefully turned my gaze back to Hanna.
“What’s everyone so excited about?”
“We’re collaborating with Mogue,” she explained. She whirled around to share her excitement with the person sitting beside her.
Her dark hair smacked me in the face, and I caught a whiff of her shampoo. It tickled my nose.
Mogue was the fastest-selling lingerie brand in the entire world. Women would chop off their arms to get Mogue’s, and men would sell their kidneys to have their women wearing it.
As for me, I’d rather donate than wear ridiculously expensive lingerie that, in my opinion, wasn’t even good. People bought it because of the person selling it.
It was a typical strategic move: get an attractive face on the brand, and stuff would sell out nonstop.
If you still haven’t put two and two together, Rogue Slade owned Mogue and several other companies I didn’t care to know about. I sounded bitter and hateful. Trust me, I wasn’t.
I just didn’t believe in buying stuff because a pretty face told me to. If it was something shit, you bet your ass I wasn’t going to buy it.
And how the bloody hell did Robert get Mogue to collaborate with our company? Our Fortune 500 company, which was suffering a lot right now. We weren’t the worst, but Sinclair did well before Robert was put in the position that should have gone to Hanna.
She was the best person for the job, in my opinion. She loved makeup. Sinclair sold makeup. Check. She loved shopping. Sinclair had a clothing line. Check. She had taste in shoes and bags. Sinclair sold shoes and leather bags. Check.
What’s not clicking, Mr. Sinclair?
The meeting concluded with me just giving a slight nod to everything that was said. When everyone gathered their notes, I got out of my chair and prepared to walk out.
Robert spoke up from behind, stopping me from leaving.
“Yes, sir?” I turned around and kept my hands on the vacated chair.
Robert smiled at me, looking like the smug man he was.
“How are you this morning, Beth?”
His question threw me off guard, and I found myself rolling my head back, searching for the perfect answer. When I reached a conclusion, I responded, “I’m good, thank you.”
And I did mean it. It was Tuesday. I was blessed with excessive happiness on Tuesdays.
“Good.” He nodded in acceptance. The man was pushing fifty, but he looked old enough to be sixty.
“The reason I stopped you from joining your colleagues is that I needed to talk to you about the collaboration with Mogue. It’s a huge deal for Sinclair.”
I nodded in agreement.
His grin expanded as if he liked my nonverbal answer.
“We can’t afford to blow this off or give Mogue any reason to be upset, which is why I carefully arranged for one of my employees to meet with Mogue and go through all the necessary things with them.
“Meaning, I chose you, Beth, to go over there and make sure we don’t make them regret collaborating with us.”
“What?” I blurted out, tightening my grip on the chair. “Why me?”
“Because you’re good at your job, and you know how to please people. I think you’re the perfect candidate.”
I struggled to form coherent words.
“B…but, did you ask Hanna? Maybe she would want to do this? Please, Mr. Sinclair, I don’t think I’m the perfect person for this job.” I was freaking out, ready to grovel if it came to that. The thought of being anywhere near Rogue Slade scared me shitless.
Robert waved my concern away, which only upset me more.
“Hanna is actually the one who put your name forward, and I agreed with her decision.”
My face grew hot, and he laughed at my reaction.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to do great. I have faith in you,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Off you go, then. I’ll have someone send you the file.”
“Thank you.” I turned and kept walking, pausing by the door to take a deep breath before gathering the courage to walk out.
Hanna was sitting in my chair at my cubicle when I reached her. She was on her phone, but when she saw me, she laughed at the storm on my face.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I hissed, trying not to speak loud enough for everyone to hear. “Was it on purpose?” I leaned my hip against my desk and glared at her.
She laughed.
“Kinda?” It came out while she was trying to hold back another laugh. “I know you have some weird shit against Rogue, so when the opportunity presented itself, I had to volunteer you as tribute.”
“I have nothing against Rogue!”
Her perfectly curved eyebrows rose.
“Then why do you look like you want to battle it out right now?” she demanded with a sly smirk. “You can’t fool me.”
“And you can’t ruin my Tuesday,” I retaliated, tugging her off my chair so I could sit down.
I inhaled and exhaled to calm myself. Fretting over this new assignment was stupid. I was being stupid.
“Don’t freak out for nothing. Rogue is in Canada right now, returning in four days, and by then, you’ll have already had your meeting with Mogue. So, calm your tits already.” She chuckled when I glared at her.
“He has other matters to tend to than waste his time on Mogue issues when he has a bazillion people to handle it.”
“How do you know that?” I demanded suspiciously.
Hanna just shrugged and grinned, stole my chocolate from my desk, and walked away toward her office.
“You’re a bitch,” I called out, getting a few looks from the rest of my colleagues, but they didn’t seem to care. They’d heard worse come out of my mouth.
“Don’t make me pull rank,” was her final retort before her head disappeared into the glass-windowed office.
