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

Chapter Twenty-Four

Isabella

I inch further away from Jacob, my arm slung over my chest that is bit by the New York breeze. Everything aches, everything down to the veins in my neck, my body so taut that it’s a few moments before I realize I haven’t exhaled the breath I’ve been holding.

Sinking onto my side, I watch as Tristan waves his hand through the air, a plentiful bunch of men coming from the shadows with long, chrome guns and permanent scowls. Tristan loops around the group; Jacob is hardly impressed by his attendance here tonight.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier to see him here.

“Take this,” he mumbles, dropping his coat at my fingertips. He turns his focus to Jacob, his gun flickering into sight from the helm of his hip. “You’re not planning on breaking your deal with my boss, are you?”

Jacob rolls his eyes. “That was the deal for when she worked for me! She’s nothing but a common whore on the sidewalk in a short skirt.” He offers a modest, blameless grin. “I’m an easy-going man, Tristan. I like easy women. Let’s chalk it up to nature.”

“Nature,” Tristan mumbles, waving his hand a second time.

A gun fires. A man drops.

Jacob gasps alive as one of his brutes falls lifelessly into an already-forming puddle of his own blood. I struggle to keep the coat on, pinning it together in front of my chest while I inch back, unknowingly bumping right into Tristan’s leg.

Even though he practically saved me just now, he looks down at me like I’m a nuisance.

“You little lap dog!” Jacob snarls. “You can’t just off my men! Not over some worthless—”

“Shut up,” Tristan grumbles. “I don’t take death lightly, Lacey. But I also don’t think I need to tell Carter what you were planning on doing to his new personal assistant.”

Jacob sneers, “Is that really what we’re calling whores nowadays?”

Tristan clicks his tongue, lifting his hand as though to signal another move, another shot—another death.

Jacob steps forward, palms out in mock surrender. “No, never mind. Just leave, dammit. Take her and leave. It was a misunderstanding.”

I revel in the fact that Jacob retires to his old, sniveling ways of cowardice when it comes to having his ego challenged. At least for now, he backs off, Tristan nodding for me to follow, and I do, stumbling to my feet and chasing after him while I try to catch up to his side.

We make it to the car, and my face is still marked with wet, cold tears.

Sitting in the backseat with Tristan, I can’t help but feel my stomach drop, finally feeling a brush of relief fall over my body.

“Clean yourself up. Carter will probably be waiting for you at the apartment.”

I glance out the window, seeing the night sky painted over the city. “I was supposed to meet him at the club.”

Tristan nods knowingly. “Exactly. But in an effort to subdue the tension of business, you’re going to tell him you got caught up at the hospital. I happened to see you walking down the street and offered you a ride. Nothing else is to be mentioned.”

I swallow his words carefully, unsure how to digest them. “You don’t want him to know about Jacob?”

“We have to work with Lacey now,” he mutters. “Whatever qualms you two have between one another is frankly irrelevant to the work that needs to be done. When the election is over, you can sing to your boss all you want about Jacob’s maltreatment of you, but unless he outright puts you in the hospital, Carter isn’t to know what happens. I’ll bail you out of his grip whenever possible, but Jacob Lacey is more important to the business than you are, Isabella.”

I bow my head. “Would Carter think differently?”

The silence is answer enough.

When the car pulls up to the apartment, Tristan tugs on the side of his coat, giving me a stern look. “You spilled coffee on your blouse. I gave you this to wear. Got it?”

I only nod and make my way through the stairwell, feeling somewhat overwhelmed with the way the night has transpired. Sure enough, as expected, Carter is laid back on my couch, his feet kicked up on the table nearby with a cold, unforgiving look on his stoic features.

His eyes drop down to my appearance, and I turn away, quickly brushing my face dry as I probably should have earlier. Carter is behind me at once, crossing the room like an Olympic runner, his hand gripping my upper arm so tight that it makes my fingertips numb.

I sink into his chest, his warmth, no matter how terrifying he is when this close to me.

“You stood me up. Again.”

I don’t dare look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I was at the—”

“Is this Tristan’s coat?” he grumbles, turning over my arm and using his free hand to brush open the interior of the jacket. It’s lined with cold, red silk and smells like scotch and cigars. “What are you doing with his coat on without even a bra underneath?”

Trembling in his tight grasp, I stammer to push out the words Tristan had fed me earlier. “I had coffee at the hospital, and it… it spilled all over my chest and… and Tristan was driving by and offered me a ride. B-but my shirt was hot and wet so… so he gave me this to wear.”

He pulls me in closer, his lips brushing my forehead with his angry, exasperated exhale. “You’re nervous, dove. Are you lying to me?”

“I would never lie to you, Carter.”

“You say that, but if I bend you over my knee and punish your ass, would it change your answer to me?” he ponders.

I shiver in place, unwilling to sell myself out so easily.

He drags me across the living room and does just as he threatens, holding a hand to the back of my neck as he pushes me over his lap. I hiss a breath, my ass on full display through the short skirt, and I can feel him maneuvering his opposite hand to undo the clasp of his belt.

Technically, I work for Carter. I should tell him the truth.

But seeing Tristan so easily call for a kill outside tonight, I don’t think I want to cross my boss’ right-hand man.

“Want to change your story, dove?”

I squirm, my stomach aching. “N-no, it’s the truth.”

If I take another round of spanking, Tristan better hold up his side of the deal and make sure Jacob backs off again in the future. I think it’s been made clear that if he is willing to cross his deal against Carter, then crossing Tristan is hardly a stretch.

“Go change clothes,” Carter mumbles, smacking my ass with just the palm of his hand before putting me back on my feet. My nerves settle as he redoes his belt around his waist, keeping the leather strap off my backend for another night. “You come home in coffee-stained clothes next time,” he adds under his breath. “I never want to see you wearing another man’s clothes again. Ever.”

I nod, ducking behind the room separator.

Picking out an outfit is difficult when I don’t know where we are going, but I can only assume it’s the club where I was supposed to meet him earlier. Carter kicks down the partition, and I jump, seeing it on the floor while he goes back to his spot on my couch.

He parts his knees, casually leans back, and drinks down the sight of me as I slip out of my clothes.

My core throbs, and my blood runs hot, a sheen of sweat carving around my temples while I undo Tristan’s coat, drop my skirt, and slowly slip into a set of matching panties and bra. The black lace stands stark against my pale skin, and the red stripes of my earlier punishments look faded under the delicate lace.

It’s the most expensive pair I own and one of the only sets that matches, but it seems to please my boss. He hums a noise, shifting slightly to accommodate his budding arousal.

I grab a warm sweater and aim to slip into it.

“Not that,” Carter snaps, his tone leaving little room to negotiate. “Pick a dress.”

I set the sweater back onto the rack and reach for a long, flowy summer dress.

“Shorter dress.”

Without trying to show my aggravation, I tug the short dress off the hanger while watching Carter’s expression soften. It’s a tight, pink dress I had picked out to graduate in, but since that day never came, I hung it up to remind myself of the defeated misery I held when I had left college once and for all.

“Perfect,” he purrs, waving me over.

I stand before him, his hands pressing into my hips and forcing me to turn in a circle, his eyes lacing expressions against my body as he scales his cold glare around my trembling, nervous exterior.

“I like this tight little number on you,” he hums, his palm brushing the curve of my ass like he’s trying to trace it into his mind for memory later. “It’s perfect for tonight.”

“Are we going to the club?” I stutter.

He smiles broadly, looking at the clock on the far wall. “Not a chance. It’s almost two in the morning now. We’ve got work to do, little assistant.”

“Work? At this hour?”

He shrugs, standing as he adjusts the crisp, glassy roses of his cufflinks. “Unless you want your trial month to end now, I suggest you keep your preference of hours to yourself. When there is work to be done, it will be done immediately. Understand me?”

I nod, feeling a little embarrassed by my questioning. I’m not in any position to be turning down a powerful man like Carter Blackthorne. Instead, I slip into some shoes and follow him outside, shivering on the sidewalk as my dress does little to keep me warm.

Carter turns from opening my door, sliding out of his coat and maneuvering me into both.

He kisses the side of my neck gently, more gently than he’s ever been with me before, and ushers me into the backseat beside him.

“To the office,” he breathes, the driver taking off accordingly. Carter gives me a sideways look, his eyes sensually falling down my frame in his coat. He smiles. “Perfect.”

I can tell now his frustration wasn’t because I was late to the club or that I was so unsteady about my explanation when I arrived home. It was that I wasn’t in his coat, in his scent, like a prideful animal angered by opposition crossing into his land unwarranted.

I am Carter Blackthorne’s territory now.