I’m awake first. I didn’t properly shut the blinds when I finally came to the bedroom last night, and now the sun is streaming in through the window.

The light is slowly moving across the bed and will probably hit Carly’s face in the next fifteen minutes. That gives me fifteen minutes to stare at her in wonder. It’s still hard to reconcile the two sides to her. There’s Carly, the sweet and innocent babysitter who looks after my daughter, who I want to spend every moment of every day with. And then there’s ‘Laura,’ the kinky sub I met at a party who loves it when I dominate her and claim her as mine.

There’s no doubting they’re the same person. Carly has the red marks around her wrists to prove it, and I know if I pull back the covers there will be plenty more marks on her ass.

I’d been determined to show her the other side of me last night, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to show her the room. When I did, her eyes lit up in amazement, and I knew nothing I could do in the bedroom would bring her the same amount of pleasure she’d get from being strapped to my leather bed. Maybe it’s the same for me. I don’t even know. Can I enjoy ‘normal’ sex? Can she? Does it matter?

The sex is phenomenal, but I don’t want that to be all there is. Carly looked distracted during the entire meal last night, and when I suggested going to a bar, she couldn’t have seemed less interested. Perhaps she’s only in it for the sex?

I shake my head and laugh. It’s not funny… except it kind of is. Talk about getting a taste of your own medicine. I’ve only ever had one other woman in my bed for more than sex—Shannon—and even that wasn’t this intense. We married in a rush, and it would never have lasted. We argued more than was reasonable or bearable, and make-up sex can only keep things going for so long. We connected in bed and thought that was enough. It’s not. I know that now, but does Carly?

Marie pulls up outside in her car, so I quickly get out of bed and throw on a robe, hoping to make it to the door before she rings the loud bell and wakes Carly up. Too late.

The bell rings when I’m half way down the stairs. There’s no way she’ll sleep through that.

I open the door a few seconds later to see Marie carrying a tired looking Olivia.

“Morning,” Marie says cheerfully, poking her head in the door looking for signs of Carly. “Late night?”

“A bit,” I reply, taking Olivia from her. “Thanks for babysitting. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one. When I have a kid, I’m dumping it on you and going on a month long cruise.”

“Fair enough. Did she behave herself?”

“As always. She was quite quiet, actually. I thought she might be coming down with something, but she’s not running a fever.”

I touch my hand to Olivia’s forehead, but Marie’s right, she doesn’t have a temperature.

“Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” I ask. Olivia nods, and then yawns.

“She’s probably just tired. Have Carly put her down for a nap in the afternoon. Speaking of which….”

“The date went well, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Her car’s still in the driveway.”

“Maybe she took a taxi home?”

“I’ve never known you to be so coy. It must be serious.”

“It was just a date, Marie, calm down. Anyway, I have to get ready for work.”

“Alright, I can take the hint.” Marie hands me a few letters. “You still suck at collecting your mail. Bye, Olivia.”

Olivia waves at Aunty Marie, but it’s a little half-hearted. She’s definitely tired. We head into the kitchen for breakfast, and Carly comes down a few minutes later. Fortunately, Olivia’s too young to notice that Carly is wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.

Carly immediately switches into doting babysitter mode and gets a drink for Olivia. This should be everything I’ve always wanted. I have an awesome babysitter who my child loves, and at night the babysitter turns into the best sub I’ve ever had. She doesn’t seem interested in a relationship, so I have the best of both worlds. Don’t I?

“Want me to shred all this?” Carly asks, looking through the pile of mail. “It all looks like junk. Oh wait, this might not be.”

She reaches out to pass me one of the handwritten letters that I’ve come to dread. He usually waits longer between letters. Is he getting desperate? Maybe he’s just seeing how much he can get away with.

“Parker?”

“Huh? Oh sorry.” I take the letter from Carly’s outstretched hand. I quickly slip it into my back pocket and make a four-egg omelet. I’m starving. “You want anything?” I ask Carly.

“I’ll stick with cereal. Eggs are way too filling for me first thing in the morning.”

“I worked up an appetite last night.”

Carly suppresses a smile and pours herself some cereal. I add some ham to the omelet, together with a decent sprinkling of salt and pepper. It looks appetizing, but I can’t enjoy it. All I can feel is the letter digging into my back pocket. How much money does he want this time? When will it end? At this rate, I’m going to have to sell the company just to keep financing this asshole. There’s has to be a limit. How much would I pay to keep this secret?

I look over at Olivia as she quietly munches the cereal that she hates but pretends to enjoy because it’s for grown ups. I have my answer. I’d pay every penny it takes to protect her from the truth.

There’s a different atmosphere at work. I notice it the minute I step foot in the building. One of the receptionists was excessively nice and cheerful when she’s usually a bit miserable, while the other one gave me the evil eye even though he’s typically the happiest guy in the office.

People stop talking when I approach. The elevator goes silent when I step inside. That’s not the type of boss I am. I typically say ‘good morning’ to my employees and they smile and return the greeting. I’ve worked hard to make this a place where people can speak their minds, and I hold ‘office hours’ once a week where any employee can come and talk to me. Despite what I get up to in the evening, I don’t rule the office with an iron fist and that’s helped create a friendly place where most of my employees are happy.

Not anymore. Things haven’t been this bad since I was arrested for Shannon’s murder.

I crash down in my chair and pull the letter and my check book out from my bag. Carly could have posted this for me, but I don’t want her asking questions about the letters she needs to post once every couple of months, or once every few weeks if he keeps this rate up.

He only wants $5,000 this time. That’s one of the smallest amounts he’s ever requested, although coming so soon after the $15,000 I paid him a few weeks ago, it feels more like a top up. I stare at the letter for a few minutes, but I’m determined not to let it consume me. I’m going to end up writing the check, so I might as well get on with it. That’s all I use my checkbook for these days. Every facsimile slip is a record of all the payments I’ve made to Johan Contra over the years. I’m not going to total it up. That would be too depressing.

Speaking of depressing…. I turn my computer on to see if there’s any reason why all the employees are pissed at me this morning. My inbox has the usual assortment of crap: emails marked urgent when they’re anything but; and emails that look innocuous but demand urgent attention. Oh, and someone left an earring in the ladies’ bathroom on the third floor. I don’t see how I can be blamed for that.

I’m about to call Grady into my office when he shows up anyway. I quickly stuff the letter and the check I wrote in a drawer and offer him a seat.

“Feeling better?” Grady asks.

I had to give Grady a separate excuse, because he knew I didn’t have any meetings yesterday. Being ill was the only thing I could think up. I’m not all that creative. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a twenty-four-hour thing.”

“There’s a bug going around my department. Knocked a few guys out of action for a week. I was worried you might have that.”

“So was I at one point, but I got plenty of sleep and now feel refreshed. Well, relatively. Did anything major happen here yesterday?”

Grady frowns. “No, not that I know of. Why’d you ask?”

“There’s a weird vibe in here today. People are acting differently around me.”

“Ah.” Grady looks awkwardly at his feet. His one flaw as a senior figure is that he’s too nice to give bad news or discipline people.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“Word’s getting around.”

“About what?”

Grady raises an eyebrow. “You know what.”

“Shit.” The sale. “How did that happen?”

“No idea. To be honest, it’s a miracle we managed to keep it under wraps for so long.”

“Find out who’s talking and make sure they keep quiet.”

“That’s not realistic.”

“Not that many people know,” I point out. “It shouldn’t be a long list.”

“No, you’re right. There’s just me and you. And Sandra at Pacific Technologies. And a few of the finance guys in my team. And the operations director. And your secretary. And Sandra’s team. Our attorneys. Her attorneys. The CPAs. And the—”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. This is bad. No wonder the atmosphere is tense. Half our employees must be worried about their jobs.”

“You can’t keep everyone happy all the time, Parker. All this means is that we need to act quickly to cut off any panic. Are you any closer to a decision?”

I shake my head. After yesterday, Grady’s suggestion of chilling out on a beach for the rest of my life holds a lot more appeal than it used to, especially if I can convince Carly to hang around for more than just the kinky sex.

“Sandra never improved her offer,” Grady says. “We’re not going to get another cent out of them.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“The only people who say that are the ones who already have plenty of it.”

“I’m thinking about the employees,” I snap. “You know as well as I do, that Sandra is going to slash the headcount the second the ink is dry.”

“You can’t fight capitalism. You made your fortune by designing equipment that put people out of jobs. This is how things are.”

The difference was, I didn’t know those people. They were numbers on a spreadsheet, and I told myself that for every employee who lost his job because of my technology, I would eventually end up hiring two more. That never happened. I have over a thousand employees, but that’s less than half of those who lost their jobs when my equipment replaced them.

It’s a bit late to get sentimental now. I’ve made millions, and stand to make a small fortune if the sale goes through.

“I’ll decide this week,” I promise. “Tell Sandra that by close of business Friday she will have her answer.”

“Any idea which way you’ll go?”

“Nope. Have you surveyed the other shareholders recently? If we are going to sell, I’d like as many on board as possible. We need 90% to make things fly through smoothly. With me and you, that’s 82%. What about Mitchell and Cameron? They’ve got 5% each. That would put us over the top.”

“They were happy to sell on the very first offer. They’ll be cracking the champagne if this new and improved deal goes through.”

“First they’ll need to work their asses off. Sandra’s team has a reputation for thorough due diligence. They won’t let this go through without a fight.”

“Tell me about it. I have a trip to Vegas planned this weekend. If you give the go ahead, that’ll be my last free weekend for quite some time.”

“Vegas?” I ask quizzically. Grady never struck me as the Vegas type. “You go there often?”

“Not really,” he replies. “Me and some college friends went there just after turning twenty-one, and now we all try to regroup there as often as possible. It’s not easy. Most of them have families and what have you. Still, should be fun. You can come if you like?”

“Thanks, but the weekends are all about Olivia.” And Carly if I play my cards right.

“Of course. Okay, well I’ll leave you to it. Good luck with the big decision.”

Grady leaves me alone. I still can’t concentrate on work, so I grab the letter from my drawer and walk down to the mail room to ensure it goes out today. He always demands an urgent response and I don’t want to test him. Not when there’s so much at stake.