The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (22 page)

“I’m not even close to qualified for director, and you know it.”

“Nope, not where you are now. But that all changes when you become assistant director. You know how this shit works. Most of these directors and executives didn’t get where they are because they’re excellent physicians—there are
thousands
of great doctors. These directors and executives get there through open doors. You getting me on this?”

“Chuck—”

“You think this over for a few days. Think long and hard. I’m in New York until the end of the week. I’ll bring the contract to you first thing Monday morning. Make this all official like.” Chuck’s voice lowered to a murmur. “You’re a smart man. It’s your choice, doctor. Make the right one.”

Then the line went dead.

Chapter Sixteen

The rain pelted against the window relentlessly, the wind from the first big fall windstorm driving it even harder. Dane sat against several pillows piled against his headboard, Amity’s back to him, tucked between his legs, his arms around her. Her marks had faded but the skin of her back was still warm to the touch.

He’d given her a long, thorough whipping of her ass and upper back with his calf-skin flogger, the punishment leaving her glassy-eyed and sweetly malleable as he’d made her crouch on the bed, a lost moan drawn from her as he’d slid deep inside her.

“You know you’ve spent the night here every night for the past week—at least.”

Amity squirmed against him, his wet genitals pressed against her soft, warm bottom. “Are you complaining?”

“I could think of much worse ways to pass the night.”

She gave his arm a playful slap. “Sadist.”

Dane laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt.

You need to tell her.

There had to be a way out of this. He had to figure out the angle, the key to all of this, yet everything came back to one thing—the bewitching girl in his arms.

“Amity, turn around. I need to tell you something.”

He helped her to her knees so she faced him, sitting on her heels, kneeling between his widespread knees, the position emphasizing the flare of her broad hips, the sweet little curve of her belly. She rested her hands in her lap, the heavy breasts huddling between her arms.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, caressing the line of her hip. “Unbelievable.”

She lowered her gaze, blushing prettily. “Thank you, sir.”

Dane inhaled a long breath, willing him to have the courage to say it. “I talked to your father today.”

Her gaze shot up, her mouth dropping open. “You… what did he say?”

Does she already know?

“He knows about us—and he doesn’t approve. At all.”

Something flickered through her gaze, and she looked away, the color draining from her cheeks just a little.

“I—well, he gave me an ultimatum, Amity. He doesn’t want me seeing you anymore, and if I don’t break it off… he’s dangling a promotion in front of me. If I don’t play ball, it’s gone.”

“Promotion? What kind of promotion?”

“Assistant director, double the pay, plus bonuses.”

“Are… are you going to take it?” Her eyes were bright with tears. “What did you tell him?”

“I’m not taking the promotion. He can give it to somebody else. I’ll get other chances,” he lied.

Dane knew exactly what saying no to Chuck Derrington meant.

She seemed to brighten up at that, but she couldn’t quite submerge the tension in her smile. “He’ll… just have to get used to it. Right? I’m not his little girl anymore.”

“That’s right,” Dane said, reaching for her. She sprang against him, the soft pillows of her breasts against his chest making him close his eyes in bliss. “You’re my girl now.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered against him. “I’m tired, sir. Can we go to sleep?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

He tucked her curvy little body against him, the welcoming press of her bottom against his groin stirring his cock to life once more. He ignored it though, just as he tried to ignore the strained stillness that had seemed to come over the girl in his arms. Sleep dragged him down to oblivion before he could contemplate why.

When Dane woke later, in the darkest part of the night, the rain still pattering against the windows, he stayed very still, not letting Amity know he’d awoken. He watched her in the quiet solitude of that room as she laid there, staring at the ceiling, the bed washed in the ghostly wavering illumination of the streetlight shining through swaying tree branches, trails of silent tears streaming down her face.

Chapter Seventeen

He was glad he had a warm coffee cup for each hand. The parking structure was colder than a witch’s tit.

Dane found a spot near where he knew Amity liked to park. It was almost seven, and she hadn’t been late in weeks. Maybe she’d give him a fresh excuse to tan that beautiful bottom.

“Day’s looking up,” he muttered.

He was going to figure out a way to do this, a way to thread that needle. He was a
smart
man—Derrington had at least been right about that part. There was no way Dane was going to play that man’s game though.

Her car finally appeared, creeping down the row of vehicles. He stepped out from behind a big Ford parked next to her spot. He turned to her and tapped his watch, hoping he’d already gotten her heart galloping. She was late—and he was looking forward to holding her accountable for that offense. He looked forward to just about everything with Amity.

Her car pulled in, idling for a moment, then shutting off. Dane strolled over to her as she stepped out. Her hair was down, unusual for her. Rather than her usual slacks or skirts, she was in a pair of loose jeans and sneakers, a gray University of Washington sweatshirt doing its best to disguise the swell of her breasts. She turned to him, and immediately he saw it in her eyes.

Something was wrong.

“Are you sick?” He pressed one of the coffees into her hand. “You aren’t even dressed. What happened?”

“Nothing.” She sipped the hot coffee, gasping quietly at the heat against her lips.

He tried a different tack, lowering his voice to a rumble. “You’re late, Amity.”

Those big brown eyes looked up at him. “I didn’t come in to work.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He stepped close, looking down upon her, wondering what was going on behind those eyes. “We definitely will be talking about this today. This is unacceptable.”

But it was as if the old Amity was gone. There was no dilation of the pupils, no dropped gaze, no pretty blush. There were only those eyes, regarding him steadily. She was a stranger.

“I can’t work here anymore, Dane.”

“What?” He scanned her eyes, and she kept her gaze upon him. “You—you’re serious? Why?”

“It’s the right thing—the best thing.”

“I—
fuck
.” Of all the things he’d expected out of her, this was dead last on the list. “Look, don’t worry. We’ll talk about this tonight—come over, and we’ll figure out something else for you.”

“I’m not coming over.”

“I don’t recall giving you a choice, girl.”

Oh, no…

“No more ‘girl,’ no more ‘sir.’” Her eyes welled with tears then, and she looked away, holding a hand to her mouth. “I can’t do this anymore, Dane. Any of it.”

She opened her door and stepped in. Her window was rolled down, so he closed his hand over the door, preventing her from closing the door.

Amity looked at his hand—then looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Dane.”

He set his coffee on the top of the car, letting her close the door. He dropped to a squat, laying both arms along the door. “Wait, Amity. Come on, we can talk about this. Where are you going? Why are you doing this?”

The lump in Dane’s throat was getting more painful by the second, and he vainly tried to swallow it away.

She laid her arms across her steering wheel, leaning her forehead against them, now crying openly.

“Amity, what in God’s name has gotten into you?”

“You don’t understand him, Dane, but I do. He’ll ruin you. If you don’t give him what he wants, he’ll destroy your career. I hate him. I’ve seen him to do it to other people who’ve crossed him.”

Fucking Derrington.

“I don’t care about him. It’s only a promotion. I’ll just keep my head down and be patient. It’ll be fine. You—you don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” She turned her tear-streaked face to him, her lower lip trembling miserably. “I know you’ve got plans—we talked about them remember? How you want to… reach out to—people like you. The ones you know.” She sniffled loudly, rubbing a hand across her eyes. “Alternative lifestyles, all of that. Right?”

“Amity, please…”

“I’m just a stupid fucking
kid
, Dane. I was kidding myself that I could give you what you need.”

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

It’s just what she said, isn’t it? Steph
.

“You’re… successful, talented. People love you. I’m this…
loser
.” Her brow furrowed and she pointed at him. “You’re not going to do this. I—I won’t let you. You need to fucking forget about me. I’ll just bring you down, ruin shit for you. I can’t live with that, with forcing you to choose.”

“Jesus Christ, Amity. Please don’t do this to me. This is crazy!”

“I… it doesn’t matter what I want, what we want. He’ll win. He
always
fucking wins. You have to just go along with it. You don’t have a choice, Dane.”

She broke down, sobbing then, leaning against the steering wheel, hiding her face against her arms. He reached into the car, stroking her heaving back, touching her lank hair. Her whole body was shaking, as if she were hopelessly exhausted.

Then she stilled, looking down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dane.”

She started the car, the sound grating, almost painful in the enclosed space.

“Amity, please don’t go.”

She shook her head though, and looked back over her shoulder, backing the car out of her space. Dane sprang back to his feet, then snatched the coffee from the top of her car.

God, not again. Please, God.

She couldn’t look at him as she drove away, rivers of tears coursing down her cheeks. He watched her go, the brake lights flashing once before the car turned out of the garage and disappeared.

With an agonized yell, Dane hurled his coffee against the wall of the structure, the cup exploding in a spray of pale brown foam.

Chapter Eighteen

Kate stared at her from across the table. She didn’t really want to go out—hell, she didn’t even want to get out of bed—but she knew Kate was right. Getting out was better for her.

“I knew something was wrong when you called me.” Kaitlyn stirred her drink slowly. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

“He… became everything, I guess. He didn’t really give me a choice about it.”

“No choice? Do you really think that was healthy, Amity? Sounds like a controlling bastard to me.”

Amity remembered the oceans of tears she’d cried since that day, curled up in her bed, wanting the pain to end, the ache within her to ease. How many times as she sobbed had she felt the absence of that control, the sweet, metaphorical chains his will had shackled her with?

Oh, how she missed it.

There was no sense in telling Kaitlyn that though. She’d never understand—and Amity didn’t blame her one bit.

“He wasn’t like that. He was so good to me.” Amity stared down from the mezzanine where they sat, the floor below still empty of people. The club was almost quiet, practically deserted. It was still way too early in the evening.

“If he was so good, why’d you kick him to the curb?”

“Because… I didn’t want him to have to make that choice.”

“Your dad’s a fucking prick, by the way.”

Amity frowned. “Try living with him your entire life. Believe me, I know.”

Hatred burned bright within her for her father. She knew he was being protective, but it wasn’t his fucking business. When her mother had died all those years ago, he
had
made everything better, sheltered her, replaced that horrible loss as much as he could. He’d been her rock, her entire world—and he’d moved mountains to give her every advantage life could offer. What had happened to that man? Was he still in there somewhere under all that selfishness, manipulation, and greed? Why couldn’t her father see this for what it was? She wasn’t a little girl bouncing on his knee anymore, someone who needed daddy to make everything better.

Without Dane, nothing was better.

Still, part of her feared what Dane might choose, if forced to. He was ambitious, but it was the good kind of ambition. He wanted their medical group to be more open, more tolerant of alternative lifestyles. He had plans, if anyone ever gave him the chance to put those plans into action. She knew he didn’t like to have his kinky patients sneak around, as if they were doing something wrong. It was ignorance and discrimination, and she hated it as much as he did.

Especially once she realized she was one of them.

Knowing all of that, the truth was inescapable. If forced to make that decision, she knew what the only logical choice was. Why would a successful man, with a promising career ahead of him choose to blow all that up—for a girl?

Amity knew she was nothing but a spoiled rich girl. Someone who’d never faced any real adversity, any real hardship. A stupid, air-headed, flighty… loser.

She knew how many women would be glad to fuck a doctor, no matter how hideous he was, simply because he was rich. He probably had fifteen of those gold-digging sluts lined up for him right now, like vultures circling a fresh kill.

The money didn’t matter to her though. It never had. It was the man who mattered—and Dane was all man. The man who spoke to so much within her she’d never known was there.

So why did you let him go, you stupid bitch?

She watched Kaitlyn, on her phone again as usual. That beautiful, strong, take-no-bullshit woman was, until Dane, someone Amity knew she could confide in about anything.