Page 12 of Grimm

“Bring you lunch at work? Take you out for lunch?”

Her cheeks reddened. “You’re just trying to make it sound bad.”

“Is Jacob gay?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“He hasn’t been seeing anyone, no, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“So, Jacob’s not gay. Jacob’s not dating anyone. Jacob hangs out with you on the weekends and brings you lunch during work.” He winked. “Jacob is into you, but you’ve put him in the friend zone.”

She blinked a few times, and her brow wrinkled.

After a long silence passed, he took pity on her. “Text him you’re out of town and will be for a while. Tell him you’ll text him when you’re available.”

“When will I be available?” she asked, posing her fingers over the keyboard again.

“Not for a while,” he answered gruffly.

“He might want to know.”

“Too bad for Jacob.” He nudged her. “Go on, then click up there to transfer your texts to another number.”

She froze. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But—”

“See, this is where you obey me and don’t question.” He gripped her hip with his hand, squeezing. His cock pressed between her ass cheeks thanks to the leggings she wore.

She grunted, then did as he instructed. He rattled off his phone number when she came to the field asking for the transfer number.

“Good girl.” He kissed her neck. “Now, log off.”

Another click, and she closed down the browser and shut the laptop.

“You don’t think Megan’s in trouble.” She still faced away from him.

“I don’t know her. How can I say for certain?”

“Why did you buy me from Marcus?” she asked, squirming in his lap until she faced him.

He picked up a lock of her hair and played with it between his fingers.

“You had that damsel in distress thing going for you,” he teased.

“Heroes don’t buy the damsels,” she pointed out, searching his eyes for some answer that wasn’t there. If she was looking for the hero, she’d be looking for eternity.

“Marcus was going to make your life hell. You’d be working in his whorehouses and clubs until you paid off the money. And every day you didn’t pay it off, the interest would compound. You’d never make the money back, and if you did, you’d be so beaten down you wouldn’t be you anymore.” He let go of her hair.

“So? What’s that to you? Isn’t that what you do? Sell women? Drugs? Guns?”

“I don’t deal in women. My father has a small trade network, but that’s going to change now that Samuel Titon’s dead.” He paused. She didn’t know who his father or Samuel Titon were, not really, and she probably didn’t need or want the education. “The other stuff, yeah. It’s what pays the bills.”

“So again, William. I’m asking you. Why spend fifty thousand dollars to buy me? I’m a first-grade teacher who is obviously more naïve than I’d ever thought. What could I possibly provide you with that you couldn’t get for free elsewhere?”

---