Control

Chapter 11

Harlow🦋

I just had a gun, inside of me.

That is one thing, I never would have fathomed. A gun. Inside me.

And I enjoyed it.

Every single second of it.

I fix my dress to bring back some type of decency. I cross my leg over the other and wait for Auden to speak.

"I'm going to give you a file, you're going to give it to the FBI tomorrow at the cafe."

I clear my throat before talking. "Is that it?"

"If you say anything about your mission being compromised I won't hesitate to throw you off the cliff."

He's back.

My jaw sets. I've never been angry enough for my jaw to set, but it does. I flex my fingers and adjust my position.

"Understood?"

"Understood," I bite.

"Go get started on dinner. Your eating with me tonight."

I rise from my seat and exit without another word. I need a shower.

After a nice long shower, I slip on another stupid silk dress and head downstairs. I made salmon and asparagus. Typical, but that's all I really felt like cooking.

I make my way into his dining room carrying the plates. I sit one in front of him and then start to head to the other end to place mine down, but he stops me.

He points to the seat next to him. I place my plate down and take the seat.

We sit in silence for most of the meal.

"Tell me about yourself, Harlow," Auden says.

I roll my eyes. "I'm pretty sure you already know everything about me."

"Well let me know again. Tell me about you. I want to hear it from your lips."

I cut in to my food and take a bite while he watches me. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Tell me about your photography."

I take a sip of my water.

"What do you like about it?" He continues.

A smile graces my lips as I think about it. "I like how you can capture a moment. I like how you can take something so simple that people overlook and turn it into something beautiful or unique. The free will to just go with the flow. You have control, but at the same time you don't. Because in the end the object of your picture has control. You can take a picture of the ocean, but only the ocean can control its waves to give you the perfect picture. The sun at the perfect minutes gives you the sunrise or sunset."

He stares at me and my hand flies up to my ear. "You like the control, and the lack of control?"

"Yeah," I answer honestly. "It's art."

He nods and I watch him take the last bite of his food.

"You like control," I state. "But I feel maybe you need to loose control sometimes."

He laughs and shakes his head. "You don't want me to loose control."

My breathing speeds up. "You lost control in the office. Or else you wouldn't have shot that bullet off in between my legs."

His eyes freeze over in ice and he stares directly at me. But instead of freezing me in the spot, it warms me. "If I lost control, you never would have made it to my office because I would have pushed your ass off the cliff. Be grateful, that I do have control."

Instead of fear a smirk comes to my face. He stares as if it's a figment of his imagination. I probably would too if I saw myself now. A needy, slut who wants him to fuck her into next year. Who would love to feel the barrel of the gun back inside of her or even the hot, sharp slap against her clit. He's turned me into something I don't recognize.

"What's funny?"

I shake my head. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

"You claim you have control, yet if I were to spread my legs and reveal my pussy right now, and ask you to do whatever you want...where would your control go?"

His hand shoots up and wraps around my throat in a tight grip. He picks me up and throws me on the table, dishes and glasses falling everywhere.

"So much for control," I manage to get out with his hand on my throat.

He shoves my legs apart and stands in between them. He thrusts his hips against me and I feel his erection press against me through his suit pants.

"Harlow," he groans leaning over me, pressing his mouth against my ear. "I have all the control. I have control of you." He moves his hands to mine and pins them above my head. His eyes zero in on me, scanning my face.

"I made the sweet, shy, innocent little Harlow, naughty." He presses his lips against mine, then whispers. "For me."

With that he releases me and walks off, leaving me sitting on the table surrounded by broken dishes.

I immediately start cleaning up, even though it's not my job. I've rarely ever seen the other workers, like the maids, or staff. All I get to see are the bodyguards that stand post everywhere. But this time, they come bursting through the doors and immediately take the dishes from me.

"Miss," I turn to find a woman standing a few feet away, staring at me as if I'm a fire breathing dragon. "We will clean up here, Miss, you should return to your room."

I look at her then everyone else milling about. I nod and walk out.

The only people I get to talk to are Meme, Carson, Pops, and Agent Banks. It's nothing new, it used to be just me Meme, Carson and Pops. I had friends in high school and college, but like everything else in my life they left.

Maybe it's me. I mean I obviously didn't kill my parents, but maybe it's my fault. Mom's family stopped talking to her when she got pregnant with me. Then she died shortly after giving birth to me. Dad dies my last year of high school while I'm upstairs asleep. My friends leave me or eventually fade away. The only people who've stayed are Meme, Pops and Carson. And I really don't want to loose them.