This time, with Naomi though, I did. I fell for her sweet, innocent act and thought she really was here to work and earn money. Instead, she’s stealing mine and the MC’s cash right out of our pockets.
Since I know from experience that I need hardcore evidence before I start accusing someone of theft, I grab my phone to shoot a text message to Ronnie, asking her to come to my office before she leaves for the night.
“Yes, sir?” she asks a moment later when she peeks through the cracked door, sounding out of breath from getting here in a hurry. Her eyes widen when she takes in the mess on my floor.
“Come in and shut the door,” I tell her.
She slips inside and does as I asked, clutching her hands behind her back.
“I need you to do inventory tonight. I know it’s short notice, but I’ll pay you double for the overtime, if that’s okay?”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Tomorrow night too. And not just cases, I want every single bottle accounted for. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. And Ronnie?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell anyone about what I’m asking you to do.”
“Is there a problem…” she trails off.
“You just go do your job and report back to me each night. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter Eight
Naomi
I think Malcolm’s avoiding me.
I’ve barely seen him the past week when before he was always around with his eyes on me.
I don’t like how not having his constant attention makes me feel so unnerved and unsettled. It shouldn’t matter. I should be glad that I have a little more freedom, not thinking the worst.
It’s probably just the guilt talking. I’ve banked almost ten thousand dollars, not that I get to keep even a penny of that. All of it has been dropped into the bank and wired to Harry, who needs more money like he needs another twelve dozen doughnuts.
“Malcolm wants to see you in his office,” Ronnie informs me when I go to the bar to pick up another round of beers for a group of guys playing poker.
“Okay. I’ll stop by his office after I drop off these beers.”
“No. Go now,” she whispers without looking at me. “Why aren’t you walking yet? Go!”
“Now?” I ask again in confusion as my palms turn sweaty with an onslaught of nervousness. Malcolm’s never invited me into his office before. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? And why when I think of good do I automatically think of him unzipping my dress again?
“Now, Naomi. I’ll take this round to the poker table,” Ronnie assures me.
“All right. Thanks,” I say as I turn and make my way down the hallway to Malcolm’s office. I rap my knuckles on the closed door, and a moment later his deep voice calls back, “Come in.”
My heart is about to thump out of my chest when I step inside.
“Shut the door,” Malcolm orders from where he’s sitting behind a big wooden desk. His boots are propped up on it, crossed casually at the ankle while a cloud of smoke billows up from the cigarette resting between two of his fingers.
At least he looks cool and calm, not angry.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask when we’re shut inside the room alone together.
His intense eyes stare at me, unblinking for so long that I nearly breakdown then and there, spilling all of my secrets.
Oh shit.
He is angry. Like, about to snap someone’s bones angry about something, and I think that something could be me. I feel more naked now standing before him in my dress than I did the night he stripped me down to my panties.
“Come here,” he growls into the silence, startling me with the harsh intensity of the words.
Uh-oh.
Swallowing down a bad case of the nerves, I slowly make my way over until I’m standing beside his desk near his feet. A second later, he pounces on me, so fast I didn’t even see him stand up. I just blink, and then he’s towering over me, his immense size making me gasp. He’s always intimidating when he’s just sitting down at the bar, but now he’s just plain scary standing at least a foot taller than me with his linebacker shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. He’s so close I have to tilt my head backward to see his face. Malcolm takes a drag off his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the corner of his lips before reaching around me to put it out in the ashtray, which means the front of his body is pressed even tighter to mine. From the corner of my eye, I then see him reach down and pull something from his pocket or his belt, but I don’t know what it is until the sharp point of what can only be a knife is pressing into the center of my chest.
A yelp of surprise escapes me before I find my voice again. “Wh-what are you doing?” I ask him.
He lowers the point until it meets the top of my dress. Grabbing the material with his free hand, the other slices the blade through the fabric, cutting my dress straight down the middle with enough force that I feel the pressure, but it doesn’t leave a mark on my skin. All the tips I’ve stuffed inside earlier float down to the floor around our feet, causing Malcolm to growl angrily through his gritted teeth.
“Those are-are my tips,” I tell him as I slap my palms over my bare breasts, feeling way too exposed at the moment wearing only a pair of red panties.
“Sure they are,” is his stony reply. “No need to act shy now and cover yourself up. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that you were rubbing your pussy on my dick like you wanted to ride it?”
“Y-yes,” I answer, remembering the embarrassing moment when he said he would never fuck me.
“So, what’s the matter? You changed your mind?”
“No.” I shake my head to confirm my answer. “No, sir.” Malcolm may be scary at the moment, but I still want him. I’ve wanted him since the second I saw him, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“We’ll see about that.”
Closing the knife on the edge of his desk beside my thigh, he thankfully slips it back into his belt holster. As soon as his hands are free, though, he spins me around and presses his large palm between my shoulder blades, roughly forcing my bare upper body down until the side of my face is flat against a stack of papers on his desk.
“There’s nothing I hate more than liars except for thieves,” he mutters. Crap. He knows! “Do you have any idea how furious I am with you?” Keeping one strong hand on the center of my back, the other comes up over my hip, giving my panties a tug when he starts to peel them down my legs.
I shake my head no as much as I can because I’m incapable of speaking now that he has me naked and bent over the desk like he’s not planning on letting me up anytime soon. I don’t know if he’s going to whip me or kill me or fuck me for stealing from him.
He said a few weeks ago that he would never fuck me; but he put the knife away, so I think I can probably cross kill me off the list. Maybe. Hopefully.
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” I cave and ask.
Placing his lips against my ear, his teeth nip at the cuff before he whispers, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
Those six threatening words are still echoing in my head when Malcolm runs one of his thick fingertips crudely down the crease of my ass, over my puckered hole, heading lower...