Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Seventeen

Isabella

Looking at Jacob Lacey from across the desk he almost ravaged me on, he seems a little irritated with my presence. I feel empowered by this morning—and a bit tired—but I don’t show it. What Carter and I did was amazing and delicious and… so intriguing.

I might just need more of it.

“What can I do for you, Bella?”

His tone is rather dismissive, not at all like the horrible, growling tone it was when he attacked me. I think of other things, uninterested in ever experiencing that again, even in memory.

“Well, Jacob,” I begin, preparing for the moment I’ve been dreaming of for six months. “I have something important to tell you.”

His impatience is wonderful to watch.

“I quit.”

His eyes widen, and he leans forward against his desk. He looks at me carefully, like I’m telling a joke, but instead, I sit straighter, prouder, and say it again for good measure.

“I quit, Jacob. Effective today.”

He smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, clicking a god-awful noise in disapproval. “Is that really wise, Bella? You’re desperate enough to steal from me but not desperate enough to keep your job?”

“I have other work lined up already.”

The scowl is clear on his youthful features. “Of course, you do. Carter Blackthorne’s sex toy, perhaps?”

I go beet red, not just because of his accusation but because he might be right. Carter offered me the job after we had sex this morning. I have no idea what I will do for him, but whatever it is, it doesn’t involve putting up with Jacob anymore.

I grab my purse, already packed with my personal desk stuff, and stand to leave. Jacob leaps out of his chair and comes around to face me, his eyes drifting down the length of me. My knees instinctively pinch together in urgency.

“Tell me something, Bella. Why should I let you out of this office?”

I tense at his threat. “Because Carter said if you touch me—”

“Fuck that rich prick,” Jacob snaps, grabbing my throat in his suffocating grip. He yanks me forward, and I cough, my face pressed into his neck. He whispers, “You don’t work for me anymore, so our earlier deal is voided.”

His tongue brushes my cheek, and I try to back away, but his grip is too strong. I hiss a breath, ready to beg him to reconsider his horrid intentions. My lips open, but so does the office door.

I expect to see Carter, but instead, a handsome man with curly blond hair walks into the office. He hardly seems surprised by the scene, Jacob groaning like a toddle in the middle of a fit. He shoves me away and lets go of my throat.

I gasp, leaning on the desk while I feel around my neck, worried he may have broken a bone or something. It’s probably bruising already, but I’m far too focused on the new man sizing up Jacob Lacey in the office.

“Well, look at that. It’s Carter’s lapdog,” Jacob hisses. “Where’s your owner, Tristan? Or did you lose the leash he has on you, bitch?”

Tristan chuckles, amused with the insult Jacob just hurled at him. “That’s cute, Jacob. I came to get our new hire. The girl you were told never to touch again.”

“She’s a lying thief,” Jacob spits. “You can have the whore.”

Tristan flinches, his fist connecting right with Jacob’s temple. I watch my boss of six months hit the ground in a worthless heap. I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Jacob doesn’t move, but at least he’s breathing.

Better than the man Carter killed yesterday, I suppose.

“Come on, Isabella,” Tristan says in a heavy exhale. “I’m going to drive you to your appointment and then to Carter.”

Appointment? I try not to seem ungrateful for him stepping in against Jacob, so I follow him from the trailer. For the first time in months, the construction workers don’t catcall me and whistle. Tristan presses his palm into the small of my back and helps me into the awaiting SUV.

He slides into the backseat with me, another well-dressed driver leaving tire marks on the worksite concrete road as we peel out of the lot. I release the breath I’ve been holding, hiding my face in my hands, just in case I do break down because of mortification or relief.

“Thank you,” I whisper into my palms.

“He had it coming,” Tristan replies. I catch a glimpse of him texting on his cell phone, engulfed in his screen for a long moment. “I just told Carter about it. He will handle Jacob accordingly.”

I wonder if he will handle it like he handled the man in the mayor’s office, but I don’t ask.

The SUV slows down before a downtown physician’s office. Tristan holds my door open and then takes my wrist in his long, lengthy fingers. We walk into the doctor’s office, the walls lined with white lights and photos of beautiful, healthy people.

Tristan skips past the receptionist and takes me to the back of the office, letting me into an examination room. He moves too fast for me to ask questions, pushing me to sit on the examiner’s table and motioning for me to stay here.

He returns with a man in a white coat who holds a variety of items in his hands.

I spot a new syringe in plastic and back up, jumping off the table in horror. “What is that for? I really don’t like needles.”

Tristan nods for the doctor to set up, and he does so on cue. He looks at me next, unbothered. “It’s a birth control shot, Isabella. It’s mandatory.”

My eyes widen in terror. “What? Why is it mandatory?”

“You’re sexually active now. It’s a safety measure… unless you feel like getting pregnant at twenty-two years old while dealing with your father’s medical bills on top of it all.”

As insulted and surprised as I am, he’s right. Even if I don’t ever sleep with Carter again, it would be nice to have this done for free, so I won’t have to worry about it later. I sit back on the examiner’s table, and the physician loads up the needle.

My head feels light, and the pinch in my upper arm is highly uncomfortable.

I sway, Tristan keeping his hand against my shoulder to steady me upright. I blink back misty, pathetic tears. I jump off the table, the doctor muttering through instructions with Tristan. I toy with my new Band-Aid and follow him back to the awaiting SUV when we’re done.

The car drives right to my apartment building, and I freeze, more confused than the first time.

“You said you were taking me to Carter,” I wonder.

Tristan nods, pointing up at my decrepit building. “He’s waiting for you upstairs in your apartment. He will take care of you from here.”

I force out a simple “thank you.”

The stairwell is lined in yellow tape around an odd crevice in the wall where it looks like someone rammed into it with their skull. I look past the gruesome sight and stalk into my apartment, the door already unlocked.

Carter Blackthorne is already inside, pacing the little living room.

He looks up and grins, my back leaning on the door to shut it. “Hey, dove. How did everything go today?”

I bow my head in shame. “Jacob was furious.”

“I heard about that,” he adds, his voice stiff again. “I’ll take care of Jacob Lacey. Other than that, did the doctor’s appointment go well?”

I blush. “I wasn’t expecting it, Carter.”

“I know,” he whispers, standing against me, pinning me between his chest and the door. “I just couldn’t stand not getting to come inside of you like I wanted to last night.”

A million questions are left in my head, but I chose the most pressing.

“Am I your sex toy, Carter?”

He hesitates, his face going cold and his brow furrowing. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You offered me a job, and I don’t even know what it is,” I admit. “You had sex with me this morning and then the birth control appointment—it was a lot to process in one day, Carter.”

He brushes my cheek, sending waves of excitement through my body. “You’re my personal assistant, dove. You are at my beck and call all day, every day. In turn, I’ll pay you a decent salary, and if we ever become naked and impulsive again, you’re protected.”

Impulsive doesn’t even begin to describe sex with Carter. It was hungry and brutal and demanding—it meant everything and nothing, all at the same time.

He kisses my cheek, and I moan.

His smile turns mischievous. “Feeling impulsive?”