HIDE

EPISODE 9 - DIRTY DARE.

Clenching his jaw, Brandon scoffed and lifted his chin. “Right. There’s nothing you can do to make me quit. My mind is made up to stay so, I am staying. Make peace with that.”

A dangerous gleam appeared in Wilson’s dark eyes, something almost amused but with a hard, cruel edge to it.

Brandon swallowed, feeling like he might have pushed him too far. “Shall we test that?” Wilson said.

Before Brandon could begin to process what that was supposed to mean, Wilson said, “Fine. Book a reservation and contact Audrey or Michelle. Tell them I will be free by eight.”

Brandon raised his eyebrows. “Audrey or Mitchell? Like a threesome? Both of them at once?”

“Don't try to be funny. I am very singular in my relationships. One of them.”

“You seriously have no preference? That’s harsh, even for you.”

Wilson fixed him with an irritated look. “Why would I have? It’s just s*x. A mutually beneficial arrangement. No one is getting used if all parties have an understanding that it’s just sex.”

Although Brandon didn’t agree, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He could see that Wilson was dangerously close to losing his very limited patience. “Fine,” he said slowly, still not really understanding what that had to do with Wilson testing his resolve to keep the job. “I’ll call one of your booty calls and tell her to come to your—penthouse?”

“Don't even dare do that if you don't want your body found in the dumpster,” Wilson said, his gaze already on his computer. “ Get a different hotel. Discreet one but top-notch. Nothing less. Or, she could come to the office.”

Right. A little bewildered, but figuring that Wilson just intended to leave work as soon as the woman arrived, Brandon muttered, “All right.”

He left the room, his boss’s discarded shirt still clutched in his hand. He scowled at it before dumping it into the laundry hamper and pulling Wilson’s phone out of his pocket.

His scowl deepened as he glared at the contacts before he found a message from someone called “Audrey” who described in gross, indecent detail what she would like to do to Wilson’s c**k. Really, how was this his life?

Brandon sent her a message. Eight pm, Louisiana Enterprises. When seven o’clock came around, there was the sound of high heels before a stunning redhead appeared by Brandon’s desk. “Edward is waiting for me,” she said. “I’m Audrey.”

Right. The woman who wanted to get her throat wrecked on Wilson’s c**k before taking it between her—admittedly fantastic—breasts.

Unable to meet her eyes,

Brandon nodded and led her into Wilson’s office. “Your—Your eight o’clock is here, sir.”

Wilson didn’t even lift his gaze from his computer.

Audrey smiled and walked over. “Hey there, handsome.” She plopped down on Wilson’s lap and kissed him, her manicured fingers burying in his hair, then running down his chest, and scraping against the bulge under—

Flushing, Brandon took a step back, but before he could close the door, a commanding voice stopped him. “I didn’t say you could leave yet.”

Confused, Brandon stopped and reluctantly looked back.

Dark eyes were fixed on him with a strange expression Brandon couldn’t quite read. “Shut the door and come over here.”

Brandon could only stare at him in bewilderment, but his legs were already moving. f**k, Wilson really had him trained well.

“What do you need him for, Eddy?” Audrey pouted teasingly, kissing Wilson’s perfect jawline and neck.

A flash of annoyance flickered through Wilson’s face at the beautiful nickname, but he didn’t stop the woman from kissing and groping him, even though his eyes remained on Brandon.

“Come here,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Brandon approached the desk, a knot of discomfort forming in his stomach. His instincts were screaming that Ferrara was up to something, that he wasn’t going to like what his boss would request.

“Undress.”

He froze, his eyes going wide. But then he exhaled, realizing that Wilson was addressing the redhead. Not that it was much of a relief. He watched numbly as Wilson lifted Audrey and put her on his desk.

The woman giggled and started undressing. Just like that. As if Brandon wasn’t even there.

“Uhm,” Brandon said. “I’ll go—I’m going home—Done with today's work”

“You aren’t going anywhere yet,” Wilson said, looking at him with those black, creepy eyes.

What?

Brandon watched, frozen, as Wilson started unbuckling his belt before unzipping his suit pants. Oh, f**k. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be f*****g happening. It was happening. Wilson was pulling his c**k out. His half-hard c**k.

Staring at it, Brandon had a sudden, frantic thought that the asshole wasn’t lying about the condom size.

“Get me a condom,” Brandon said in a low voice.

Right. A condom. Of course, that was why Wilson wanted him to stay. To get him a condom. But wasn't this asshole concerned about what Brandon thought? What if he leaked this to everyone else? Well, as far as Wilson was concerned, he was a 'you can go f**k yourself, man.'

His relief nearly making him dizzy, Brandon reached into the desk drawer he’d put the condoms in and retrieved one, hating himself a little for how well Wilson had him trained by now. “Here,” he said, handing it to his boss. Wilson didn’t take it.

“Put it on,” he said.

Brandon stared. He opened his mouth and then closed it. “What?” he said faintly.

That cruel, amused gleam appeared in Wilson’s eyes again. “You heard me. You’re my assistant. Or are you saying you can’t assist me?”

And Brandon finally got what this was about. 'If I really put my mind to it, I wouldn’t even need to fire you. You’d quit yourself.' He remembered Wilson's threat.

Rage fogged his throat. Brandon could only stare at that dickhead in helpless anger.

A small, infuriatingly arrogant smirk touched Wilson’s lips. “It’s all right if you can’t do it,” he said in a soft voice.

Brandon glared at him. Screw him. He was going to f*****g wipe that smirk off that face.

Brandon tore the wrapper with shaking hands and then looked down from

Wilson’s hard eyes to his hard c**k.

Holy Cow. That thing was… it was big and thick, the c**k head very red and fat, with a drop of pre-come glistening at the tip. It was the most disgusting thing

he’d ever seen, especially considering the fact that Wilson was unimpeachable dressed otherwise.

Swallowing, Brandon reached down with trembling hands and rolled the condom on. Or tried to. His fingers were too clumsy, and it felt like it was his first time trying to put a condom on. To be fair to him, it was the first time he was attempting to put a condom on someone else’s c**k. Jesus, the thing, pulsed in his hand. It was so warm.

His face radiating with disgust, Brandon finally managed to roll the condom on. “Done,” he said with a relieved smile, lifting his gaze and meeting Wilson’s eyes. “Anything else, sir?"

A muscle jumped in Wilson’s cheek as his jaw tightened.

Brandon smiled wider.

“You may go,” he said briefly, the irritation rolling off him in waves.

Brandon had never left a room so fast. He had no desire to watch his boss f**k that redhead.

Once outside the room, he breathed out, grinning in triumph. Ha! He’d f*****g won. But his grin faded as something suddenly occurred to him. If there was one thing Brandon absolutely knew about his boss, it was that he had a sharp and retentive memory. He hated to be defeated. And, walking over him would just land you in further trouble. f**k! Brandon just got himself in more trouble for making Wilson feel like a sore loser.

*******

Nate arrived at work the next day with a knot of nervousness in his gut. But nothing happened. Wilson was his horrible self, but no more than usual. He didn’t act any differently. He certainly didn’t act like he’d basically dared Brandon to put a condom on his c**k yesterday—and lost the dare.

After waiting for him to act otherwise to drop all day, Brandon finally relaxed by the time he left the office. His sister was actually home too, and they enjoyed a rare evening out.

The next morning, Brandon was in a much better mood as he arrived at the office. Clearly, Wilson had let it go. He had nothing to fear. He should have known better.

The day stretched with the EW Group getting a treating lawsuit from Edward Snr., if they failed to comply. Wilson gathered all the Directors, seeking a solution and anyone with a reasonable answer. Half the Directors were fired because he thought them to be useless, as they could not come up with a very plausible solution. It was still a miracle how Brandon had his job, since he hadn't uttered a word all day. Just staring at the unfortunate victims. At long last, the chaos was over, leaving Brandon and Wilson alone in the conference room

Brandon eyed his boss warily. “That was so intense. You shouldn't be so harsh on them, since it is nobody's fault that your father cannot commend and approve handwork.”

Wilson didn’t even glance at him, his gaze still at the documents in front of him.

Frowning, Brandon forced himself to shut up and mind his business. Looking at Wilson's face, he was very much in the mood to fire anything fireable. Talking might get him into that situation and that would be a major drop for him considering that he had a little time left.

Brandon got out his notepad and began putting recipes together. Something he did whenever he was uncomfortable or bored. At this point, both of them were his condition.

The silence stretched.

There was some form of weird tension between them. Unlike other times when he felt the least uncomfortable around Wilson no matter what, today, he was super on his toes. Was it the d**k situation that caused it? Maybe they needed to talk things through and solve this awkwardness. But, Wilson wasn't in a great mood for something like that.

Brandon had thought that after the occurrence, it would lighten the kind of intimidating and superior aura that emanated from the man sitting opposite him. But, it didn't absolutely nothing. Not even stopping Brandon from being scared at the inhalation of his cologne.

Chewing on his lip, Brandon stared absentmindedly on his notepad. What could he do to remedy the situation? Wilson seemed more of a god than a man at the moment. This was total bullshit. Get fired or talk to Wilson about the redhead disturbing situation. He made up his mind and chose the one that might backfire. After all, he was also a victim who did not only witness the disturbing scene but, got Wilson's pre-c*m on his hand in the process. He had every right to make sure that things were settled. If Wilson was mad because he lost the dare, he could man up and show it instead of being a coward and hiding behind the mask of the Company's busy schedule.

“So, are we not going to talk about it?” His voice came out a lot less brave than he had intended.

Slowly, Brandon lifted his gaze to him. “About what?”

Shrugging, Brandon smiled mischievously. “About the fact that you tried to scare me into quitting just to prove a point? Sorry, but you exaggerated your d**k size. Sir.”

Part of him, the part that was still thinking sensibly, told him to shut up and to stop playing with fire. But it was too late.

“Is that so?” Wilson said in a quiet voice, looking at him unblinkingly.

Brandon shivered, gripping his notepad hard in his hand. “Yep,” he said. “You really thought making me put a condom on your c**k would scare me?” He chuckled, but it sounded too loud and nervous even to his ears. Shut up, i***t, he told himself, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Why was he trying to infuriate his boss up?

His eyes narrowing slightly, Wilson regarded him for a moment, something reflective about his expression. It made Brandon nervous.

“You were right,” Wilson said, looking at him with an unreadable gaze.

Nate blinked, taken aback and suspicious. “What about?”