Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

this desk and took my release without bothering to see to your pleasure, would you allow it? There are so many options available to us, are there not? So many ways to audition, after all.”

And somehow, it was only then that it occurred to Kendra to take stock of the precariousness of her position.

It was only then that she really thought about what she was doing here.

Because her head was filled with new images now. Balthazar doing exactly what he’d just told her he might. She could see it too clearly—too vividly—and she couldn’t decide if it seemed like peril or passion. To sink to her knees, tilt her head back, and taste the most male part of him. Or to be tossed across the vast expanse of his desk as if she’d been put on this earth with no other thought but to please him, when and how he wished...

She couldn’t decide if those things terrified her. Or if they didn’t.

“Look at you,” he mused, his voice a dark, rough abrasion. She felt her skin prickle, breaking out into goose bumps. “So eager to please.”

She was breathing too hard, after failing to breathe at all for a while. She couldn’t seem to speak.

And then he made it worse by reaching out and fitting his hand to her cheek.

It was not a soft, caring sort of gesture.

He might as well have slid it straight between her legs. Again.

Kendra shook so hard she thought her bones might have flown apart. She had to check a moan, but it still made her teeth rattle.

Balthazar laughed, dark and terrible. “You’re not a martyr at all, are you, Kendra?” he asked quietly. Cruelly. “You’re just a little whore.”

It took her too long to register those words. Even longer to understand them.

And when she did, when that blow landed the way it was clearly meant to, she actually staggered back.

But by then, he had already walked out and left her there.

Naked, in his office, alone and sick with shame.

It was as if all the blood that had been pumping inside of her drained away, and suddenly she was freezing cold. Her teeth began to chatter. Her hands felt thick and unwieldy, but she did the best she could to hurriedly climb back into the clothes she’d discarded.

What was she thinking? How had she let this happen?

How had she actually wanted—

But none of that mattered, she told herself sternly, shutting it down. This was no time to spiral. There would be all the time in the world for that.

What mattered now was that he hadn’t agreed to anything.

He could have left his office to call the authorities right now, and all of this would have been for nothing.

Kendra didn’t think she could survive it.

When she was finally dressed again, she took an extra moment with her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Because her skin might have been several shades too red for comfort, but she thought she really might die if she marched back out into all that corporate luxury...disheveled. So clearly a fool.

Her breasts were still too sensitive. She was horrifyingly damp between her legs. But none of that mattered, not yet. Kendra imagined she’d have the rest of her life to regret, deeply, what had happened here. But right now she needed to figure out how not to disappoint her father.

She headed toward the door, her mind racing. She should have expected that Balthazar would want to humiliate her. Clearly he wanted to humiliate the entire Connolly family—which, if she was honest, she couldn’t really blame him for. Two million dollars wasn’t exactly pocket change.

Okay, maybe it was for Balthazar Skalas.

Kendra couldn’t blame him for wanting to punish someone who’d stolen from him, so she focused on the real culprit in all this. Her brother. If she allowed herself, she would get so furious with Tommy that it might take her to her knees—

And she really didn’t want to think about being on her knees. Not after Balthazar had introduced an entirely new way of thinking about kneeling to her today.

She strode out, still trying to come up with a new game plan, and then stopped dead.

Because Balthazar was there, leaning against the long, white wall that served as his gallery, waiting. And the way his gaze found hers, she understood that this interaction had gone exactly as he’d intended it to.

That helped. It reminded her why she was here—what was at stake.

And how little it had to do with those maddening sensations he stirred up in her.

This is your chance to prove you’re valuable, she reminded herself sternly. Don’t waste it.

“I’m disappointed,” she said briskly as she walked toward him, ordering her knees not to buckle beneath her. Because there could be no kneeling, God help her. “I expected better of you than cheap, juvenile name-calling.”

“Did you? I can’t think why.”

“Not to mention, I would have thought that a man who trafficked in mistresses would prefer an experienced practitioner. Or are you under the impression that a woman who accepts a mercenary position as your mistress somehow... isn’t?”

“Don’t be silly,” Balthazar said, a kind of dark humor in his voice. “A good mistress always pretends that she would never, ever succumb to anyone else.”

“Surely, once again, what you mean is an accomplished proficient. Isn’t the expectation that she’ll always make the client feel as if, were it only up to her, she’d be doing it for free?”

He let out a bark of laughter. Real laughter, Kendra thought, when she nearly missed a step. Her heart didn’t know how to process it.

All kinds of parts of her didn’t know how to process it.

She stood there a few feet away from him, stricken, too aware of the way that laughter licked its way through her. And equally aware that despite her best attempts here—despite actually removing her clothing and standing there naked before this man—she had failed.

He was laughing at her. He had already rejected her.

What else did she have to offer