ISABELLA
I practically ran out of Voss International the second Rafe — Mr. Voss gave me the rest of the day off. My face was still burning from his public dressing-down, and my neck ached under the scarf I kept yanking higher. Every step sent fresh aches through my thoroughly used body, reminders of how the Reaper had claimed me all weekend while the billionaire CEO had just humiliated his “Ugly Betty” assistant in front of the entire executive floor.
God, the irony is going to kill me before he ever does.
I felt so small, so pathetic. The same man who had me cuffed to his bed, choking on his c**k and begging for more, had looked at me today like I was something disgusting stuck to his shoe. He couldn’t even recognise me. I’d surrendered everything to him; my body, my signature on that
