Jared

 

 

 

I wish I had arranged for a new wardrobe to be delivered for her before bringing her here. I've never had this issue with any of the other girls. They were professionals who'd been earning a good living all along by serving men like me. And they cared about how they looked and dressed. All of them brought trunk after trunk full of designer clothes to my penthouse when they moved in. They brought everything, from casual chic to classy and - of course - expensive and slutty.

It shows that Ann never had the money nor the desire to spruce herself up to that level. She's wearing the same outfit she wore the very first day I met her. It's not terrible, and it will serve for today, but I make a mental note to replace her wardrobe as soon as possible.

She's mad at me, and I allow it. I haven't heard a single word from her since last night.

"Fuck you."

Those were the last words she spit out at me. Normally, this would merit a punishment beyond measure, but I let it go for now. I can't be as strict with her as I could with all the other girls. She's still too new to this, and I don't want to ruin things between us, especially based on the potential she shows otherwise.

We left the apartment together, walking next to each other in silence, and I've decided to treat her with the same disregard she's showing me. It's been fine with me, for now.

She doesn't even look at me when I open the car door for her, and I let that go, too. But I need to make sure that she's no longer in a huff once we get to the office.

"Be as mad at me as you want,” I tell her once we’re inside the car. “But you had better make sure to behave in front of my staff."

I glance over at her, but her eyes are focused on watching the scenery as we make our way through the city. She's wearing her beautiful hair in a ponytail again, and I hate that.

I reach over and pull out the hair tie in a slow but decisive motion.

She grunts angrily, but lifts her hand just a moment too late to prevent me from freeing her hair. Long, heavy strands of shiny ash blond hair fall down over her shoulders as she turns around to finally look me in the eye.

"What the f-"

"I like your hair down," I let her know. "This ponytail makes you look like a child."

She glares at me. "Oh, so you get to decide my hair style, too?"

We fixate on each other, and I know that the smug smile on my face does nothing to ease her anger. If anything, it only makes it worse.

"Glad to see you're still talking to me," I say. "I’ve missed that beautiful voice."

She snorts. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment, Sir."

There’s an undertone of disgust when she spits out the words, but the fact that she's still calling me Sir makes me smile.

"I decided to take it as one; that's all that matters."

She growls angrily and defiantly crosses her arms in front of her chest, choosing to divert her attention back to the window.

"Why do I even have to meet these people?" she asks without looking at me. "Is this just to humiliate me even further?"

"I don't know why you would say that," I reply. "You're meeting with my closest staff members and associates, people who we will be working with very closely once the campaigning starts. You need to get to know them, and they have to get to know you."

"You're going through a lot of trouble to win this seat," she says. "I still don't understand why you need me for this. Aren't there lots of single men in Congress - or in politics in general?"

"Maybe," I say. "But those men aren't me. I can't get away with the same things others can."

"Why not?"

She's looking at me now, her eyes questioning, searching for the answer.

"I think you already know part of the answer to that," I say, casting her a meaningful look. "We're here."

I can tell she has more questions to ask, but this is neither the time nor the place to discuss these things.

"It won't take long," I promise her, and once we’ve exited the car, I lead her inside the high-rise office building.

"Is this yours?" she asks, hurrying to keep pace with my wide, deliberate steps.

"The building or the company? Yes to both."

"Oh, right," she says. "You founded it when you were still in college, right?"

"I see you did your research."

"Are you planning to sell once you're busy campaigning for Congress?" she probes as we approach the elevators. "Do you want to get out of this business?"

I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't return her attention. I don't like her questions. She will know a lot about me sooner or later, more than most people ever do, but she doesn't need to know everything, and especially not now. Not yet.

"That's none of your concern," I tell her once we're inside the elevator and the doors close. "You have other things to worry about right now."

She sighs, and I'm pretty sure she's rolling her eyes at me again, something that won't be forgotten by the time we get home later.

Silas is already waiting for us when the elevator doors part. He's his usual self, very controlled and styled to the nines, his hands folded in front of him before he opens his arms to welcome us. He has been working for me for several years, and of all the people who are closely engaged with me, he's the one who knows me the best. He's also the only one - as far as I know - who shares my particular interest in women. He understands, and he doesn't judge. Both these things make him the perfect assistant for me.

"Silas," I greet him with a hand shake, something we rarely do. "This is Button."

The look on her face is beyond anything I could have dreamed up. Her face is lined with outrage when she looks up at me, and her eyes are narrowed to slits.

"Ann!" she snaps. "My name is Ann."

"Not as long as you're with me, it isn't," I tell her. "Button, this is Silas, my personal assistant and closest associate."

She bites her lip and glares at me for one more second before turning to Silas and shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth. He's used to my antics with these girls. Of course, I'm not going to let anyone else call her by the name I chose for her, but she doesn't need to know that. However, she will have to get used to her new name.

"Nice to meet you, too," she replies through gritted teeth.

Silas is one of four people I need her to meet today. The other three are my attorney, my campaign manager, and my publicist - all of whom are in the know about the nature of my relationship with Button and her role in the upcoming campaign, if she is to stay. She's the third girl I have introduced to them, and while I know there was a high degree of reluctance and raised eyebrows with her predecessors, I notice that she doesn't leave a similar impression on my team as the others did. I have to admit, I'm surprised, too.

She's polite, friendly, and acts interested, answering questions directly and without blabbering, and barely poses any herself. I've never seen her behave this way around me. With me, she's always either suspicious and angry, or horny. It's as if the girl who's sitting next to me in the small conference room, politely chatting with my employees like it's second nature to her, is a completely different person than the one who either hisses or moans at me.

If this is all an act, she's even better than I could have hoped.

The only thing that keeps agitating me is the way she insists on being called by her name, Ann. I addressed her as Button every time I talked to or about her, and each and every single time she dared to correct me. Her defiance will get her in big trouble with me one day, that's for sure.

Otherwise, she did leave a favorable impression on everyone. Even Silas gives me an approving nod once we say our goodbyes.

But just as I’m about to praise her once we're alone in the elevator, she's back to the person I’m used to.

"I hope that pleased you," she says in a condescending tone. "I fucking hate small talk like that."

I want to grab her and spank that damn attitude out of her. I know it has to happen - and soon. But not here, not now.

"You did well," I say, my tone equally distant and annoyed as hers. "Except for one thing."

"What?"

"Don't undermine my authority in front of my employees," I say. "Your name is Button, and when I address you by that name, you're not to correct me. Especially when there are other people around."

She looks at me, narrowing her eyes. "But my name is Ann."

"Not as long as you're with me it isn’t."

She sighs and shakes her head. Her hair is still cascading over her shoulders, a bit messier than it was before, but still beautiful. I can't wait to see the wavy mess dance around her slim body when I finally have my way with her.

She notices that I'm looking at her and turns her eyes up to meet mine.

"Why do you insist on the name Button?" she asks. "Why not call me Ann like everyone else?"

"Because I'm not everyone else," I say. "And you're mine."

A hint of a smile plays at the corner of her mouth. Look at that, my little Button is flattered.

"You're a weird man," she says, just before the doors of the elevator open as we reach the first floor. "A very weird man."