KYNK Ch. 01

I'd changed after a bath earlier in the evening and had napped until around dinner time, having more or less spent my time lazing about to regain all of the strength that work had sucked out of me. I couldn't believe how demanding it was. Even with my last boss - who had been considerably less agreeable - I hadn't experienced such horrors. I probably wouldn't have had as much to complain about if I was lazy, though.

I'll concede, had I been lazy, it would have been fair, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. It seemed that every time I managed to get a handle on things, Mr. Grimme was piling on one more task for me to complete - ordering me about as if I were some poor house wench.

Still, I never complained. Not even when I'd contemplated refusing his orders altogether. He was so demanding. I had to wonder what his relationships were like. Likely high maintenance and too stressful for my tastes. Not that I'd ever really had much of a relationship. I'd dated, sure, but never anything serious enough to count as one. Either way, I was in borderline 'forever alone' territory and painfully aware of that.

When I thought about it, though, I'd more or less become one of those guys who were 'married to their work'. Grimme seemed to always need something - things he was better off requesting from his secretary, and not an employee stationed way over in the faraway realms of accounting.

One call was all it took, and there I was - rushing to his office to hear the next request. Picture clearing up a little? If it wasn't coffee, it was retrieving one of his suits from the dry cleaners'. Before long I'd be walking his dog and ironing his boxers. Did he even have a dog? He seemed like the type - a Great Dane or some other fancy breed suited his style.

Snapping out of these thoughts, I returned to the present and tucked myself around the corner of the hall I'd just been making moves to venture down. I'd have made my move by then, too, but the last person I'd ever expected to see had turned up at Bathory Estate.

Elliott Grimme.

What was he doing here? I could feel the frustration bubbling up in my chest, burning hot in my ears. When I'd left work, he'd still been in a late meeting, so the fact that he was standing at the other end of the hall, chatting so casually with a man I recognised as one of the marshals, was completely infuriating. Was he following me?

The marshals were responsible for overseeing all of the communal spaces and were posted throughout the estate to ensure that all of the rules were followed - that no foul play was going on. I watched the brunet laugh along to something he had said before wandering off in the opposite direction. Elliott Grimme had turned toward me, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Jeans. I'd never seen him in casual dress, but now that I had, it was fair to say that he definitely knew how to wear a pair.

No. No, Ezra. He's the enemy - focus.

Yeah, fat chance. I was too busy watching him glide down the hallway. So busy, in fact, that I'd completely forgotten to hide myself. He was magnificent, and the fitted tee that clung to his cut physique left very little to the imagination. Every stride he took was as powerful and deliberate as the ones I'd watched him take the very first time I had ever laid eyes on Elliott Grimme. The shift of muscle beneath lightly tanned skin, the impeccable posture, that grace. I wanted to slap myself, but I was too speechless to be slapping sense into myself, in that moment or the several to follow.

Before I could fully tuck myself back against the wall, he'd spotted me. In fact, it was likely safe to say I'd been given away the moment he'd turned to head in my direction. Suddenly, there was barely a foot between us, and he still hadn't said a word. Instead, he'd just smiled, that deliciously evil smile - the last smile you ever saw before your life surely ended. My eyes had honed in on his lips, on the perfect dimple that taunted me. Swallowing hard, I lifted my gaze up to meet his, and all of my frustration melted away. Well. . . the only kind that mattered. Tension coiled in my belly and I tucked my trembling fingers behind my back.

"Ezraeil."

"Mr. Grimme." I wasn't sure what about this was so amusing to him, but he chuckled once at my response. My cheeks grew how. He was laughing at me - just like the last time.

"Elliott is fine. Just Elliott."

Just Elliott, huh? I tried to find the right words to speak, but the only thing that could come to mind were, "how are you-"

"-here right now?" He finished. "I arrived a half hour ago."

"Yes, but- why?"

He stepped forward, and I stepped back. Every time he would advance, I'd retreat - until my back had hit the wall. Until he'd had me cornered.

Elliott leant forward, placing a hand to the wall nearest my head, the amusement never leaving his expression. "Why? I can't be here?" He challenged.

Damn it. It was a trap! "Well, no, that isn't exactly what I meant--"

"The better question, Ezraeil, is what you're doing here."

I knew it.

"You must have been surprised to see me." He offered.

He was too close. My heart was ready to practically jump out of my chest cavity, my palms were too hot - clammy from nervousness. I folded my arms low, trying to seem indifferent and likely failing. "Maybe a little." Pathetic.

"Well, I'll make it easier on you. Let's start over." He offered.

"Start over?" Boy, I was dense today. The rumors were true. Hot guys made you stupid. You forgot all sorts of shit. At this point, I was already losing my grasp on the English language.

"Elliott." He stated, offering me his free hand to shake.

"Ezra." I answered automatically, reluctantly grasping it. Holy damn. The current that shot through my fingers sent a thrill up my spine. This was dangerous - I had to get out of here, pronto. "Pleasure to meet you." Shut up, you fool!

"The pleasure is all mine." he purred.

Oh, God. . . I was going to faint. There was no question I was going to faint. I had to pull in slow, deep breaths just to make sure I could stay upright long enough to end this conversation.

This was the first time I had ever encountered Elliott Grimme outside of work, and it was at the estate, no less. I couldn't fathom - didn't know if I even wanted to - his purposes for having made the trip all that way, but that night, it tortured me.

That night, after I'd tucked myself into bed, I'd allowed myself to puzzle it out at last. Finally, I had confronted the reality that Mr. Gri- er, Elliott was here. . . here . . . and staying in the Western Wing. The Western Wing. The wing where only Dominants were permitted. I had seen it only once, on my very first tour of Bathory Estate, and hadn't set foot there since. Earlier in the evening, when we had parted ways after dinner, I'd watched him ascend the staircase that would lead him to the so-called forbidden land.

Elliott was a Dominant. He was here. He was . . . my boss.

He knew.

All this time spent with him and I'd been blind to overlook the one fact that actually mattered. Elliott Grimme knew my secret. He knew I was a submissive, and that fact wouldn't change even when we returned to Seattle.

Foolishly, I'd given him my personal mobile number, as part of our 'newly found friendship' and I felt a ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

What was I going to do? I'd have to see him at work - would he hold this over my head for the rest of my time at Grimme Enterprises? Was this going to turn into some fucked up game of blackmail? I couldn't be sure about all of these worries, but I recognised one thing.

Deep down, despite how I hated to admit it, it was a little thrilling. Meeting him here was the first time I'd ever encountered anyone from my life back in Seattle, and so far as I was concerned, he was the only bridge between the two lives I was attempting to lead.

Maybe I was being a little dramatic. Realistically, I knew something about him, too. I knew he was a Dominant. Elliott Grimme, most eligible bachelor, undeniably successful playboy of the business world, was into kink. I wasn't sure how heavy into the lifestyle he was, but it was enough that he was in it at all.

Then, it suddenly occurred to me. Had he come here with anyone? The first person to pop to mind, disturbingly enough, was the chief secretary. I happily crossed her off of my list when I recalled the wedding and engagement rings I'd noted on her finger once. Perhaps he had come alone, looking for something to take his mind off of work things just like I had. It could have been as innocent as that. Somehow, my mind wasn't buying it, though. He didn't even remotely strike me as the 'innocent' type. And more importantly, what were the chances that he'd have turned up here?

I was still mulling this all over when the face of my phone illuminated in the darkness of my room. I didn't know what time it was, but whoever it was had better damned well have a good excuse for SMSing me at such an ungodly hour. Prepared to be annoyed, I snatched the device from the end table and swiped the notif to view the hidden text.

Anonymous:

'Asleep?'

Anonymous? Who in the hell- ah! I'd nearly forgotten. I'd given Elliott my number. Debating whether or not to respond, I settled back into my pillows. What would be the harm in a little conversation? It wasn't like it was going to make a whole lot of difference one way or the other. By Monday I'd be back in the office, working eight days a week.

Succumbing, I tapped into field and typed out a short response.

'Not yet.'

I hit send, let the phone drop to my chest. It buzzed not more than thirty seconds later. Damn, he was quick.

Anonymous:

'I didn't think so. Tell me, why are you here?'

Why was I here? Why was he here? What the fuck? I couldn't say any of this, of course, so it was plan B: the truth. Like it mattered now. I'd been caught already.

'I just come here sometimes.'

Anonymous:

'For whom?'

I was confused, so my next response was relatively short.

'For me, of course. Why did you come here?'

Anonymous:

'I was curious. Did you come here for a Dominant?'

What part of that was his business? I wanted to be cheeky - give him a smartass answer and turn my phone over to silence it. What did it matter if I'd come here for a Dominant or not? More importantly, what did it matter to him? Exasperated, I tapped out my response, likely with a little too much enthusiasm.

'No. I did not come here for a Dominant. Any particularly reason why you're asking?'

Anonymous:

'Just curious. It's late - sleep now.'

I couldn't believe it. Was he really not going to give me a straight answer? How was that fair?

'That's not much of an answer.'

Anonymous:

'Goodnight, Ezraeil.'

My heart skipped a beat, and I cursed it. What was wrong with me? I didn't know a thing about Elliott Grimme (you know, besides the fact that he was ridiculously sexy), and there was no excuse for this. Frustration had me tossing the phone across the bed and stuffing my face back down into my pillows. I needed a vacation. A real one. Maybe I could call up my best friend Jung and ask him about it. I wasn't sure even he would know what to tell me. He was my best friend of well over a decade, roommate for three of those and counting, and just about the most intelligent human being I knew. His wisdom would have been useful right about then, but even he was too far away (and likely sleeping already).

Sighing in defeat, I pulled a pillow over my head and attempted to count sheep - anything to take my mind off of Elliott Grimme. By three AM I had fallen asleep at last.

* * *

Monday arrived sooner than I would have liked, and it was back to the grind. I woke up that morning to Muse's "Panic Station" filling our two-bedroom loft and had to admit it was something of a pick-me-up. I sauntered, barefoot and too tired for life, out of my bedroom and into the kitchen area. Jung was in his boxers and a Steve Aoki graphic tee, scrambling eggs and hip-thrusting in time with the beat.

"Dude."

"Oh, shi- you scared the hell out of me. Morning, Cinderella."

"Uhh, you mean Sleeping Beauty?"

"Whatever. They were both princesses."

Lee Jung-Min - graphic design major, musical genius, the best personality you'd find this side of the earth and my best and closest friend.

"When'd you get back?" He asked, wiggling his nose to relieve an itch just as he was scooping eggs onto a plate already occupied by a slice of buttered toast. He shoved it toward me with the spatula and it slid right into place.

"Thanks," I murmured when he slid me a fork, too. "Sometime around eleven. There was a tonne of traffic. What are you even doing up?" I asked, turquoise gaze shifting to the digital display of the microwave. It wasn't even six yet.

"Pulled an all-nighter, got hungry so I figured I'd make breakfast. How was the trip? Get laid?" He asked with a conspiratorial smile, crunching into his toast and leaning in close enough that I couldn't not laugh.

"Unfortunately, no. Not this time around." I reached up to push my fingers through hair I was sure must've looked like a rat's nest already. "But you won't believe who I ran into."

"Mm?" His brow cocked.

"Guess."

"If it wasn't Ruby Rose, I don't give a fuck."

"You know she's gay, right?"

"Doesn't mean she's not hot. Come on, who was it?"

"Elliott Grimme."

I watched his eyes widen, his hand go slack with the toast. "Elliott Grimme?" Jung abandoned the toast, tossing it down on the plate and I picked it up to steal a bite.

"This Elliott Grimme?" He held up an issue of Riche and I nodded, still nibbling at his toast.

"Get the fuck out."

"No lie, he's a Dom."

Jung's eyes bugged, then his brows furrowed and he grabbed the toast from my fingers. "Did you fuck'im?"

I choked, fixing him with a horrified look. "He's my boss. The most successful fucking I did was when I fucked right off of the property Sunday evening." I licked the butter from my fingertips and slid from the chair I'd settled onto. "I'm gonna get a run in before I lose anymore time."

"What? The story was just getting good! Breakfast?" Jung called.

"Burrito, please?"

I heard him start in with an irritated 'uuughhh', but it only made me laugh. He always made me laugh. If there was one person I could count on, it would be Jung. He was taller than me by about ten centimetres if I had to guess, had ink-black hair and eyes the colour of chocolate.

As soon as I got my compression tights on, a t-shirt and a hoodie, I pulled on a pair of socks and shoved my feet into a pair of running shoes.

Seattle was misty that morning, but it was refreshing. The mist cooled my face and clung to my hair as I took the pavement, earbuds plugged in and Jon Bellion at mid-volume.

By seven, I'd already returned to the loft, showered, dressed and departed for work with my breakfast burrito in tow. I ate it on the way, carefully not to drop anything on myself, and bought coffee before I'd reached the parking deck of Grimme Enterprises. I was still sipping when I arrived at the lift in the main lobby. I pressed my ID to the sensor, scanned my fingerprint and stepped in to be whisked up to my respective floor.

I greeted the departmental secretaries on my way in and dropped off a box of doughnuts for them before making my way into my office. Even if I wasn't into women, there was something undeniably cute about them when they were happy.

Before I'd even had the chance to lower myself into my swivel chair, my phone had gone off. I groaned, fishing it out of my pocket and swiped the display to life.

Anonymous: (1) Unread Message

You had to be kidding me.

I opened it without expecting much, but to my surprise, it was actually business related. Apparently, Mr. Grimme was requesting my attendance at a board of trustees meeting and wanted me to bring along the updated report I'd been pulling together, as well as the long-term projection of profit for Grimme Enterprises.

This time I didn't even bother to respond. My phone was returned to where it had once been and I gathered the documents I would need into one neatly organised dossier, silently praising my meticulous habit of adding coloured tabs to everything.

I arrived in the main conference room ten minutes later and found that Elliott was already there. He didn't look up from whatever it was he'd been reading when I entered, so I moved to an empty seat nearest the projection screen - farthest away from him.

Fine. If he was going to ignore me now, then we had nothing to talk about. I was even successful in seeming a little bored, until all of the board members had arrived for the meeting and real work had needed to be done. It was quick and easy - really more of a formality than anything, and I was happy to promise the reports would be sent to each of them by the end of it. Elliott hadn't looked at me once - reading over whatever it was that'd been holding his attention so intensely.

Why did I even care whether he paid me any attention or not? I barely knew him. With this in mind, I rose from my seat and gathered my papers before setting a straight path for the door.

"Stop." He said, raising a hand.

I did, much to my own surprise.

"In my office." He ordered.

I stood, confused, dazed. His brows were furrowed, one leg crossed over the other, and he was the only one still seated in the otherwise empty conference room.

"Go." He waved me off.

And I went, not pausing even once before I'd come to the doors of his office and had pushed my way in. Just like I had on several other preceding occasions, I dropped into one of two leather chairs before his desk and waited.

Ten minutes passed before I heard the door open and had turned to gaze at Elliott Grimme over my shoulder. He was toting some file, which he'd tucked into a drawer and locked away before seating himself on the edge of his desk.

"Ezraeil."

"Mr. Grimme. You wanted to see me?"

He smiled, lacing his fingers, and left me to wonder until he had straightened from the place on the edge of his mahogany desk in favour of loitering near the glass panels that overlooked Seattle.

"You attended Harvard Business School?"

This was about my credentials? "Yes, that's correct."

"With a full ride, no less."

"Yes. Correct again." And this had to do with anything, how. . .?

"What was your major?"

"Business Administration." I fired back.

"Your graduating GPA?"

"A 4.0, officially."

He turned to me again, tucking his hands up behind him. "Mrs. Stone will be leaving us soon."

"Really? I mean. . . already? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Familial obligations. This isn't news, really."

"So. . . you already knew she would leave."

"Yes." He confirmed, taking a seat in his chair at last.

"I'm sorry, I'm unsure where this is going exactly. Surely you didn't call me here just to discuss my academic background?" What the hell do you want?

"When I first transferred you to the Department of Finance, you adjusted well. Your work performance has been admirable. Was it challenging?"

Was this a test? Did I have to lie? "Yes." Too late.

"And do you enjoy challenge?"

"Always." I answered, so quickly that I immediately felt embarrassed. It dissolved into masked irritation when I realised he was laughing at me again, with his ridiculously gorgeous eyes.