Page 49 of His Dark Desires

Then I see it—the open door down the hallway. My study. My heart stops.

I step inside, and the screens flash their endless data about her life. Her social media feeds scroll endlessly. Her location tracker shows she's already halfway across the city. The folder containing those photos Daniel took of her sits open on one monitor.

My fists clench. Mara. Her convenient request for time off, Sophia's pointed questions about how long I'd known her work—it all slots into place like a poison puzzle. My most trusted employee betrayed me.

Again.

The screens continue their relentless display, each ping and notification a reminder of what I've lost, what she saw.

What Mara helped her discover.

I pull out my phone, and the number I know by heart appears as I dial.

One ring. Two—

"Adrian?" Mara's voice comes through, crisp.

"Come to the penthouse. Now." Each word drops like ice.

"Of course. Is everything—"

"Now." I end the call before she can finish her performance of ignorance.

I move through the penthouse, switching off lights as I go. The darkness suits my mood, matches the void spreading inside my chest. I settle into my leather armchair, the one that faces the entrance. Waiting.

The elevator chimes 15 minutes later. The doors whisper open, and Mara steps into view. Something in me snaps at the sight of her casual outfit. The cream cashmere sweater, those dark jeans—the picture of nonchalance on her day off. As if she hasn't just tried to destroy everything I've built.

"Adrian?" Her voice carries through the darkness. "Why are we sitting in the dark?"

"You've been a bad girl again, Mara," I tell her softly, my tone no less dangerous.

"Adrian, what—"

"Stop playing stupid with me!" I roar, jumping to my feet. "I know what fucking games you've been occupying yourself with. You wanted to piss me off. Now you have. Get over here."

Mara puts on a show of hesitating, but I don't buy it for a second. I start unbuckling my belt, my eyes never leaving her face as she approaches, the anger building in me. Just because she decided to act out, I have a whole fucking mess to clean up.

But first I'll make a mess out of her.

I watch her approach, each step bringing her closer to the punishment she deserves. Her eyes flick to the belt in my hand, then back to my face, but she keeps coming. She knows what's waiting for her.

When she's close enough, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her down to her knees. She cries out, her hands flying to her scalp, but I twistmy grip, forcing her head down. I shove her face-first into the leather armchair.

"Adrian, what—" she starts, but I cut her off.

"Shut up, Mara." My voice is low and dangerous, and she falls silent.

I step close behind her, my heart pounding with anticipation. My free hand moves to her jeans, popping the button with a quick snap. I tug them down, along with her black panties, baring her ass. It's a tempting target, and I take a moment to admire the view.

"Please, Adrian, tell me what this is about," she says, her voice muffled by the chair.

I don't respond. Instead, I swing the belt, letting the leather tongue lick out and catch her ass cheek with a loud smack. Her eyes widen, and she gasps, her body arching back, pressing her ass toward me. I can see the desire in her now, the need for this.

"You know what this is about, Mara," I growl and bring the belt down again. It bites into her flesh, and she cries out, her hands clenching into fists.

I continue the assault, each crack of the belt against her skin sending a thrill through me. Her ass cheeks redden, and she squirms, but I hold her in place, my hand tight in her hair.

"Please, Adrian," she begs, her voice hoarse. "I'll be good. I'll be your good girl!"

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