Left of the Slash, page 17
We had sex in her basement, also known as her playhouse, two nights ago, and I can honestly say I've never experienced anything like it in my life. The flogger, the sound of the tails crashing against her skin like waves on a beach, the moans and whimpers she let out from each hit, the way she came for me, the way I came for her—all of it. My mind can't move on from the experience. I fell in love in that basement—not with Olivia, but with the lifestyle she’d told me about after dinner. With BDSM. I've never felt so aligned with my darkness than I did when she was tied to that cross. It was like there was no dark devil anymore. There was only me—the dark devil and Quinn merged into one, fully accepted by the submissive in the restraints. I crave it now. I need it back. If I feel this way, how could she possibly walk past my office without feeling anything at all?
Even after telling me everything before we descended into the basement, I still don't know how she does it. She made me aware of how she felt the night she went to the BDSM club in Philly and discovered herself, and I know she's married to her career and becoming the woman Diego wanted her to be, but the things we’ve done were groundbreaking for me. Earthshattering. She's the experienced one in this lifestyle, but feeling nothing at all is insane. All I can think about is our scene together and when the next one will be. My eyes light up like fireworks when I see her. I can feel the way I'm staring, hoping she gives me a single glance to let me know she's thinking about it, too. But there is nothing. I'm trying to be more like her, but this part is so much harder. How do I learn to be with her so intimately and then completely sever the connection the second it’s over?
Her words keep coming back to me over and over again, and the more I hear them in my mind, the more I realize that I should've fucking listened.
You have a lot to learn.
My computer chimes with a notification of a scheduled meeting set to take place in five minutes, and I have to exhale, blowing out my thoughts of Olivia while knowing I'm about to see her anyway. I get up from my desk and straighten out my shirt, still trying to look good even though I know it will go unnoticed, and I make my way around the desk to head for the conference room. I see Eden on my way. She flashes a red-lipped smile, reminding me that she knows more about my sex life than anyone else in this building who isn't Olivia. I smile back, taking note of the way both of them are able to keep it professional when I want nothing more than to act like a fucking deviant. Then, I'm in the conference room once again. Stephen and Nick come in right after me, as does Eden, and I take my seat at the right hand of the head of the table—the seat formerly occupied by Obsidian’s traitor. There used to be conversation before Olivia walked in to take command of the room, but now that Jon is gone, there is only silence. I'm sure Nick and Stephen had plenty to say to each other before they came in, but they sit across from me now with zipped lips and narrow eyes that look everywhere but at me.
That’s fine. Fuck you, too.
Olivia’s entrance still makes everyone sit up straighter. Now that she's here, it’s time to get to business. She makes her way to the front of the room and begins logging into the computer that will display on the wall for all of us to see. We watch in silence as she navigates through a few pages before settling on one for a bank. Then, she finds a man’s bio and leaves it up on the big screen before taking her seat at the head of the table.
“Good afternoon,” she begins. “The man up on the screen right now is Joel Epson. He is the CEO of East-World Bank. If you haven't heard of East-World Bank, you clearly live under a rock because they are the largest bank in Delaware, with ties to other financial institutions spanning all over the east coast. Mr. Epson himself is worth nearly a billion dollars, and he is a huge political donor as well. He and East-World Bank are what I consider gargantuan. After looking over all of the research each of you performed over the last two days, hunting for our newest addition to the Obsidian family clientele, this is where I've landed. This one acquisition would breathe new life into this company, the likes of which we haven't ever seen before. With this one addition, we would more than double our net worth and create a portfolio that would rival cybersecurity companies much larger than ours. This would put us in the big leagues, people. So, I need everyone to put their heads together and dive into research mode, because in five days, we are going to pitch to Mr. Joel Epson himself.”
I listen to Olivia without thoughts of my own. I don't know anything about Joel Epson, but I see the faces of Stephen and Nick twisting into confusion and disgust like they always do. Stephen raises his hand like a kid in class and waits for Olivia to point at him like the teacher.
“While I understand the ambition here,” he begins. “Isn’t East-World Bank already in contract with Palo Alto?”
Olivia sighs as she nods. “Yes. East-World is already contracted to Palo Alto Networks, but that contract is coming to an end next quarter, so we need to convince them to switch to us. We have a small window of opportunity here, so we’re going to take it.”
Nick leans forward in his seat, feeding off of Stephen’s funky confidence. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't they been working with Palo Alto for years? Better yet, decades?”
Olivia nods again, this one accompanied by a tightened jaw brought on by a strong case of exasperation.
“Yes,” she snips. “While I'm glad to see that you both already know about East-World Bank, I need you to have some optimism. Everything changes if we’re able to bring them in.”
“I know about them because I researched them already,” Nick says. “The second I saw that they were with Palo Alto, a company with three times the clientele that Obsidian has, I scratched them off my list so fast I nearly broke my pencil. They're clearly chained to PA. Why waste time with a pitch that we know won't work?”
“Because we have to have a massive gain, or Obsidian won't survive the next two years,” Olivia says, blurting it out like a secret she couldn't keep to herself any longer. She sighs and looks around the room. “That’s all we have based on my analysis. I know you all think I don't know shit about cybersecurity, and maybe you're right, but you also know that I worked in finance before taking over as CEO here. I've looked over all of our reports and data, and if we don't make a massive, long-term change, this company’s doors will close in twenty-three months. My father's desire to keep Obsidian small, combined with Jon’s sabotage costing us a fistful of clients, has created a cancer that is slowly going to kill us if we don't do something serious. East-World Bank and Joel Epson are our chemo. While you think it may not work or the idea of pitching to them makes you sick, our death is imminent without it.”
“And what if it doesn't work?” Stephen asks, frowning hard now that he knows Obsidian is on its last legs.
“Then we’re fucked,” Olivia replies harshly. “All of the other big clients we could bring aboard are locked into contracts that are years long. East-World is the only one with an expiring contract, and from what I understand, they haven't begun extension or renegotiation talks with Palo Alto. So, this is our one shot. If we miss, we die. That’s it.”
“What the hell could we offer them that they don't already have with a bigger company?” Nick says, rubbing his chin.
“I don't know yet,” Olivia responds. “That’s for us to figure out when we do the pitch?”
“When who does the pitch?” Nick asks.
Olivia hesitates a second, then her eyes shift over to me for the first time today, finally seeing me. “Quinn and I will pitch to Mr. Epson.”
After all of that flowing conversation, silence suddenly engulfs the room. Usually, this is where all eyes would turn to me and I would be forced to lean back in my seat as if trying to dodge their evil glares, but it doesn't happen that way this time. Stephen and Nick glance at each other, then they look in opposite directions—Stephen's eyes move up to the ceiling while Nick’s drop down to the table. Olivia's eyes, on the other hand, don't linger on me a second longer than they have to.
“Q—I mean Quinn, is the chief information security officer of this company,” Olivia says as a reminder to everyone listening, but the misstep on my name makes everyone’s eyes snap over to her. “He was promoted into this position for a reason, and I will lean on his expertise—”
“Lean on his expertise?” Nick cuts in without any regard to Olivia’s position as CEO. He fires a sharp glance across the table at me like a dart. “Have you ever pitched before?”
I shake my head as darkness quickly fills the corners of my vision. “No.”
He wastes no time going back to Olivia, his face tight with ferocity. “He doesn't have any pitching expertise. Jon and I used to do pitches together, so when it comes to expertise, I’m the only one in this room who has it. I should be doing this pitch.”
“You don't even believe we can pull them away from Palo Alto,” Olivia fires back. “I need someone who actually thinks we can do this, and for what it’s worth, you're still under investigation, Nick, so I don't give a damn about what you used to do with Jon. Until the internal investigation is over, you're on wafer thin ice with me. I do not trust you. I do, however, trust the man who saved us from Jon’s sneaky, sabotaging ass. So, pout about it all you want, but you're not pitching to East-World Bank. Quinn is.”
Nick leans back in his seat, pinching his lips together and shoving his argument back up his ass where it belongs. I can tell he wants to say something else. Words are battering against the inside of his lips like prisoners trying to escape, but he seals them in as he glares at me. I stare back, ready to leap across the table if he keeps looking at me or says another offensive word to Olivia, but Olivia speaks again before I commit assault on her behalf.
“So, that’s the plan moving forward,” she says. “Quinn and I will prep for the pitch over the next few days, and hopefully we’ll all have something to celebrate next week. Any questions?” No one says a word or even moves a muscle. “Good. Have a good rest of your day, and I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Olivia is the first to get up and walk out of the room, followed by Eden and Stephen. Now that I know that my first-ever pitch will be to save Obsidian’s life, I realize how much work I have to do. So, I ignore Nick’s peering eyes and make my way out of the conference room and back into my office. If I'm going to help with this pitch, I refuse to let it be anything other than brilliant. We have to convince the East-World CEO to come over to Obsidian, because our lives literally depend on it. Even the lives of Stephen and Nick are leaning on my next moves. As much as I hate them, if saving them means saving us, then so be it.
I cross the threshold into my office with my mind totally focused on what’s coming. I have been consumed by being with Olivia. Every cell in my body has been locked on her, wondering when we’ll be together again, anticipating how good it will feel to flog her, bruise her skin, and make her come for me. But now she has given me something else to dive into, and I know how important it is. Neither of us has ever done a pitch, but I know she's leaning on me. She needs me and I won't let her down. When I sit down behind my desk, I lock in, but just as I'm about to open a tab for East-World Bank’s homepage, my train of thought is cut off by the sound of Nick stomping into my office and throwing himself into the seat in front of my desk.
He lets out a loud whoosh of air and gawks at me with a canyon-sized furrow in his brow, and before I can ask what the fuck he’s doing in my office, he speaks first and sends me reeling.
“So,” he says sharply. “How long have you been fucking Olivia?”
TWENTY-FIVE - Quinn
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” Nick replies before swallowing hard. I see the tremble in his cheeks as he looks at me, trying to match my energy, but he can't pull it off. My energy is dark matter—not to be replicated or even understood. I'm a fucking black hole ready to annihilate everything around me, and he has no idea that he's a hair’s width away from the event horizon, yet he still trembles.
I stare at him, my mind imagining me vaulting over my desk and wrapping my fingers around his throat until he can no longer speak a word about Olivia, but I stay in my chair with hatred spewing from my irises. After having refound his arrogance and audacity, shitting all over Olivia’s idea to pitch to East-World Bank, and throwing a hissy fit over not being able to do the same pitch he didn't even believe in, Nick has the nerve to step into my office and hurl accusations around like monkeys throwing shit. He somehow manages to sit in front of me with that smug look on his face, completely unaware of how ridiculous he is. I don't know how some people manage to do it, but this group of assholes at Obsidian has mastered the art of having the fucking gall.
I want to hurt him. Bad. Being with Olivia is doing a number on my ability to keep my dark devil at bay, because I feel the lines between us blurring. It’s becoming harder to figure out where I end and it begins, but I have to keep it together. I just got promoted, and this is a game being played. This corporate life is a giant chess board, and I don't win if I stand up and knock all of the pieces off the table. That’s exactly what they want us to do—lose our shit over their audacity so they can say we’re violent DEI hires who don't deserve the positions we’ve earned by being twice as good as them. I can't let that happen. If I want to win, I have to maintain my composure, but it is becoming so fucking hard.
I clear my throat and flex my jaw. “Nick, the only reason I'm not fucking you up right now is because I just got promoted and I don't want to be fired just yet, but you're pushing it. You don't know shit about me or Olivia, so I advise you to close your mouth and get out of my office as quickly as possible.”
“Interesting,” he says, rubbing his stubbled chin. “I heard threats, and I heard arrogance, but I definitely didn't hear denial. So, it’s true then? You're fucking Olivia?”
Hearing him say it again sends my body into autopilot. Against my better judgment, I snap, hopping up from my seat with my finger pointed.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” I snip. “I see what you're doing—coming in here and saying that bullshit as loudly as you can just because she didn't pick you to do the EWB pitch. Get over yourself, bitch. The reason you did pitches with Jon before was because he was the CISO. He's gone now and I'm the CISO, so I'm doing the pitches the same way my predecessor used to. If you don't like it, go cry in a fucking corner until you dehydrate and die, but do not come in here with accusations that have the same amount of evidence as you have common sense—fucking zero. Now, I'm not going to tell you again, get up and get out of my office.”
Nick lets out an aggressively loud huff as he slams his hands on the arms of the chair and stands up, his face reddening as his nervous breathing makes him stammer. “This … this is bullshit. Maybe I should fuck the CEO and get promoted to a position I don’t deserve, leap frogging two guys with more seniority in the process. Talk about special privileges and favoritism. Since you claim you're not fucking her, maybe I’ll shoot my shot and see where it gets me.”
The heat that engulfs me from the inside is hot enough to send steam shooting from my ears. I don't know where it comes from. My emotions sneak up on me and catch me by surprise, and the next thing I know, I'm nose to nose with Nick, my fists balled so tight my knuckles threaten to pierce my skin. My glare is menacing as my nostrils flare and my breathing picks up. I’m ready for war in a matter of seconds. If I don't tighten up, it’ll be a checkmate for my career.
“Say that again,” I tell him, but it’s not a demand. It is one hundred percent a threat. “I fucking dare you to say another word about Olivia. I promise you won't walk out of this office if you do. Somebody will have to carry you out.”
“Oh, you want to fight me over the woman you're not fucking?” Nick says.
I'm like a coiled viper ready to strike, and what's worse is that I know he's right. He may not have any evidence or proof, and he's just fishing for anything to make himself feel better because that’s what pussies do, but he's right and he doesn't even really know it. So, as much as I'm feeling an uncommon sense of protectiveness over Olivia, my anger is also fueled by the fact that I know I'm lying. The people who tend to be the most defensive are usually the ones who know they're being found out, and I hate that I fit that mold, but it doesn't stop me from acting out. I hate that being with her has me behaving this way, but I can't fucking help it.
“Say her name again,” I say in a voice resembling a pitbull’s growl. “That's all I want you to do. Say her name. Fuck all of this talking. Say her name … see what happens.”
Nick and I stand frozen, face to face like two ice sculptures, until we’re startled by another person stepping into the room.
“Whoa, what the fuck is going on in here?” Rob’s voice booms. “Did you know we can hear you two from down the hall? That’s enough, man. Come on, Q, step back, bro. Don't risk your career over this. It’s not worth it.”
I keep staring at Nick, but his eyes shift to Rob before cutting back to me. “Yeah … Q. It’s not worth it. I’ll just head back to my office and start looking into which cybersecurity companies are hiring in my position or higher, because if we’re depending on you and her to save Obsidian, we’re all fucked.”
I scoff, refusing to step back. “Save us all the trouble and just quit now, while you still have all of your teeth. You saw what happened the last time one of you bitches tried to run up on me. If you can't remember, just ask Jon. Oh, you’ll probably have to wait until visiting day for that, huh?”
