Under His Control

By Lynn Richards

Copyright 2012

Patricia Mason

Wolf Publishing

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WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences only.

CHAPTER ONE

“
Damn, damn, damn
.”

Rebecca surveyed
the damage she had caused. Oh, not to her
beat-up, dented-in, on-its-last-legs Nissan,
but to some over indulgent, brown nosing executive’s
midnight
black BM
W. She could have sworn she had enough
clear
ance before backing
out
of the parking space in
the underground garage.
The long white streak down the perfection of the beamer’s
paint job
said differently.

“
Damn, damn, damn
.”

She sat
in her car
, tapping her fing
ers against the steering wheel.
What should she do? Leave a note? Run away – that’s the one she voted for – or go
to
the security bo
o
th on the bottom floor like the law-abiding
,
good-girl citizen that she was?
Taking extra care to continue backing up (fat lot of good that did her now!) she cleared the space and put
her
car in drive. As she drove
around and around the parking structure
heading toward the exit, she thought
of the
money she
had just earned. It wouldn’t
even begin to cover the repair bill
. She sighed, kno
wing she would have to report the accident
to her insurance company and face the higher
premiums
down the road. She just
didn’t have the cash right now to pay for the damage.

Rebecca worked as a free-lance typist for one of the larger law firms in downtown Atlanta. She’d worked
there
as
a legal secretary for a year before deciding
it was time to take charge of her life and go back to school to earn her teaching degree; something she
’d
always
wanted to do.
At least that’s what she told herself and anyone else who asked.

Luckily
,
the firm
allowed her
to
work around her
class
schedule.
I
t was dif
ficult continuing to work there
, but
it was a necessary evil. Even with student loans
it was proving harder and harder to keep up with
her
bills.
If she lost this job, she would be living on ri
ce and beans and the occasional peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Reaching the security booth, she pulled over to the side and exited her car.

“Hi, darling,” the man behind the glass greeted her. “What’s shaking?”

Rebecca
smiled. There w
as no point taking out her crapp
y day on him. “More than I want to, Larry. I, um, had a little a
ccident on the
top
level
.”

The man’s brow crinkled in a frown. “
Are you okay, Becky
?”

“Yeah, I’m fi
ne.
Not even a scratch on Horace
.” She
refused to give her car
a feminine name. I
t
continued to let her down, just like a
man.
She chewed on
her f
inger
nail before continuing. “Uh, umm,
there’s a
black
BMW
that
might not have fared so well.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Well, shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m going to have to call this in. I’m sorry.” His voice was so
sympathetic
it almost made her
cry.

“
I know.
I’ll just wait
over
here.” She walked a couple of feet away and sat on the curb feeling like a
convict
waiting to be transported to jail.

Quinto
n Sanders pressed the pause button
on
his
d
ictaphone
when his intercom sounded.

“Sir, security is on
the line
for you.”

He frowned, hating to be disturbed in
the middle of composing a brief
. His
secretary
knew that. But then again, she also knew when someone, or something, needed his
personal
attention. Unlike
one of
the other partner
s
in the firm
,
he had a cordial, if not friendly
relationship with his secretary
.
She
didn’t cause him to erupt
like
Mt.
Vesuvius
at the drop of hat.
But then he’d
actually
hired a woman who could spell
‘
brief
’
instead of dressing that way
.

“Sanders,” he barked into the speaker phone.

“Sir, this is security
in the parkin
g
garage. I’ve
got a small situation here
.” The man hesitated as if he didn’t want to say anything more.

“Spit it
out, Larry
, I don’t have all day.” He wanted to complete the brief before
he left
for the weekend
. Not that he
was in any hurry to get ho
m
e
to his empty apartment. Damn, what was the point in making mone
y hand over fist when you had
no one to share it with?
His jaw tightened. Not so long ago he thought he had found that someone.

“
It appears that your car has been, umm, slightly damaged
.”

“What!” He straightened in his leat
her backed c
hair. That car was his baby. He’d restored it himself on those rare long week
ends he spent at
the lake.
This was t
he first day
he’d
driven it
into the city.
“What happened and who did it?” He’
d have
the culprit’s head on a platter before nightfall.

“
I think it’s just a small scratch
,
sir. And it was Ms. Dawson.”

Well, that took the
wind out of his sails, and
put the starch in his pants. At the me
ntion
of the woman’s
name, his dick stood up and took
immediate
notice.

More than a month ago, t
he little bro
wn haired witch
had run away from him.
It looked as if fate
was giving him a second chance.

It was about damn time.

“Get someone t
o escort her to my office
.” Now that
she
w
as so
close to being his once again,
he would take no chance
on her escaping.

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as he disconnected the call, he gathered up
the
notes and court
documents
he’
d been reviewing
and
shoved
them in a drawer
.
Thank God
he
wa
s ahead of schedule on the brief
. If not
,
he knew he’d stand a good chance of being disbarred for failing to represent
his client’s best interests. He
had oth
er plans for the next few hours
.

P
ressing
the intercom butt
on, he said,
“Sally, come in here.”

Rebecca
’s conscience weighed heavily on her as she was escorted through the
fifteen story
building. She looked down at the Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt she wore. S
he was
so
not dressed to
be frog marched past the employee
cubicles
of
the
Greyson, Sanders
,
and Delacorte
law firm of
Atlanta
,
Georgia
.

Since starting to free-lance for the firm, she rarely saw any of the people who had
been her co-workers
. She prefe
rred to drop of
f
her work to
Tara
,
the
paralegal for the big man himself,
Noah Greyson
.
She usually snuck in the back door so to speak to avoid meeting anyone.

Anyone in particular that is.

Maybe she could
appeal
to
Tara
to appeal to her boss
to get her out of
this mess. Whose car
had she scratched anyway that required an escort – an
armed escort
–
to their office?
Why hadn’t they just called the polic
e? She chewed on her
finger
nail again suddenly getting a very bad feeling.

Following her silent
companion
into the elevator she tried to think of a way out of this. The most
obvious choice was to confess,
it had been her fault
after all
,
and hand over her insurance card
and face the consequences
later. The other option would be to hand over her life savings
,
all three
thousand
,
one hundred and n
inety-three dollars,
in the hope
s
that it would cover the damage. That would mean not taking classes in the fall and del
aying her graduation yet again.