The Mistress ✓

14

Onika
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As soon as we pull in the parking lot across the street from the distillery, Scar grunts for me to remove the hood. I ask him to wait and rummage through my purse, which thankfully was still in the car from last night. Surprisingly, he complies while I pull out my emergency makeup stash and bring some semblance of normalcy to my face.

The stilettos I have on from last night are fuck-me shoes of the finest -- the most expensive shoes I've ever worn -- and there is no way any of this outfit will go unnoticed. The fitted gold shirt hugs my curves and tucks into the pencil skirt that emphasizes my hips and ass way more than I'm comfortable with. The white string of pearls lies against my throat like a collar. 

I will fucking kill her if she ever tries to put a leash on me.

I snap my mac concealer closed once I determine I'm as good as I'm going to get, and too pissed off to do any better of a job on my make up. 

Plus, there's the distraction of the high-tech version of Ben Wa balls inside me, and the knowledge that Robyn holds the remote has my thighs practically slipping together from my body's response. 

The two warring parts of my brain can't reconcile what's happening to me. 

How can I hate the woman so much, and yet my body loves what she's doing to it?

It's a mystery I won't solve in this parking lot. I reach for the door handle, but Scar stops me with a grunt and hands a note back to me. 

If you tell anyone anything, you'll be attending their funeral. 

I crumple the note and toss it between the front seats. "Tell her, her twisted secret is safe. For today, anyway."

As soon as I utter the last word and shove open the door, the toy inside me buzzes to life for a single instant, like a shock to correct and animal's behavior. I jerk around, looking to see where she is. she has to be close right? What is the distance on this thing?

Knowing Fenty and the power she wields, it's probably miles. 

I fucking hate her.

I force myself to slide out of the car, my head held high and my shoulders straight, and walk across the street like absolutely nothing is out of the ordinary. 

Certainly not like I've sold my body and my freedom to save my family's legacy. 

I nod at my employees, smiling and greeting them like usual, hoping like hell they don't notice anything different about me. The London Fog trench coat is something they've seen before. It's what's under it that will raise eyebrows.

As soon as I enter my office, Tiffany pops out of the seat across from my desk, and my heart bangs against my ribs. 

"Thank God! I was about to send a search party out after you. You haven't answered any of my texts this morning. The head of operations for the Voodoo Kings wants to meet over lunch to discuss the valet proposition I laid out, and he made it very clear that he wanted you there because, apparently he doesn't think I have the authority to make any decisions. Which I guess I don't. But he didn't have to point it out and be a dick about it."

When my pulse calms down to nearly healthy levels, I lie through my teeth. "Sorry, I...had car trouble this morning. Had to get an Uber. The first one didn't show, and I must've forgot to turn my notifications back on. I...turned them off last night to brainstorm ideas."