Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She struggled for a few moments but was unable to get away from Mr. Olden or his plunging dick.
Phillip looked at the man and said, as if he wasn’t fucking a married woman before him, “I picked out some items and am leaving a list on the counter. Add it to my account.”
“Very good, my lord. Would there be anything else you would like?”
From the way Olden’s gaze moved between him and the female he currently fucked, Phillip knew the offer was about the woman on the desk and he shook his head.
“Just the candy. Good day.” He backed out and sighed heavily once the door was closed.
Leaving the list as he’d promised, he put the items in a small bag and went to the door. Fyre and Mr. Tennemin were not in sight. Phillip secured the package on his horse and saw a familiar figure step into view, give him a nod, and vanish.
It didn’t take him too long to get in an alley between shops and step out of sight to wait. Archer appeared.
“You have something?”
“Whatever you are starting, there are some who are not happy at all. You need to have protection.”
“Keep it on Fyre. I can handle myself.” He leaned against the wall. “Specifics? Names?”
“Nothing concrete yet, but we are listening. Just…watch your back.”
“Understood.”
* * * *
Fyre watched Mr. Tennemin walk away as she mulled over his words. Work for him? She had recently gotten rid of a few smaller accounts because she was getting burned out. Mr. Tennemin had a much larger one. Not quite like Phillip’s, but far more than some of the smaller stores.
Part of it felt like a betrayal, shucking off the smaller accounts to land larger ones. This was her island, she should put them first, right?
Why should I do that? Most of them have no use for me other than my skill with numbers.
“We were not finished talking.”
Albie Caulfield was not a man who gave up easily. She realized this now.
“Mr. Caulfield, we were. I have said my piece. I am sorry you and my brother have created some deal that I did not agree to, nor will I agree to.”
He got in her face, dark blue eyes hard with anger. “You owe me.”
She drew back like he’d hit her. “I owe you? For what?”
“You were supposed to be mine, Gwen. I was going to have you, then the damn earl shows up and you shove me aside.”
“We were barely friends, Mr. Caulfield. You gave me a job but wanted me within reach for extra activities while I worked on your books. And let us not pretend that was not the real reason you agreed to give me the work. You did not think I could do the numbers, but you wanted a woman near.”
“You always insisted on meeting at the shop.”
“I am not a stupid woman.”
“No, you are not. But you do reach above your station. The earl only keeps you on because you are spreading your legs for him.”
A flash of unease hit her. She buried it, not having time to think about it right now, nor did she want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d got to her with those words.
“Are you calling me a whore, Mr. Caulfield? Is that why I was the one who let the extra work go? Because all of the men wanting to sleep with me was too much? Or my brother told me to so I could keep myself for you? Why would you want a woman who only keeps a job because she spreads her legs?”
“Darkie women have high sexual needs. They cannot be expected to act like white women, with decorum.”
Forcing down her rage, she clenched and relaxed her fist. “We are done here. Leave me alone and do not speak with me again.”
She walked out into the street, eyes burning with angry tears just waiting to fall.
He grabbed her arm, tightly and painfully, before spinning her back around to him. In that second she understood she shouldn’t have turned her back on him.
Fyre gasped at the radiating pain shooting up from her wrist.
“You do not walk away from me.” Spittle flew from his mouth at his words, some landing on her. “He promised you to me and damn it, I will have a taste of what you are giving free to the fucking earl!”
Mr. Caulfield yanked her closer, lowering his face to hers. She smacked at him, trying to get away, but he was too strong. His breath, heavily minted, fanned over her and she fought not to gag.
“You are going to be mine.”
She was ripped free and when Mr. Caulfield hit the ground, Fyre hit as well, landing on the same wrist he had grabbed and twisted. More pain radiated up and she bit back her cry.