Chapter Text
Buffy’s heels ground into the small gravel of the parking lot as she rushed towards the black car. Luke barely stopped before Buffy pulled open the back door. She slammed it behind her. “Where is he?” Her tone was sharp.
“Mr. Taylor is driving him back to the penthouse now. Mr. Grey is requesting that I take you there as well.”
Who is that? Buffy angrily pushed against the back of the seat and crossed her arms. “Good.” She started to fidget with the charmed necklace Willow had given her.
===
Buffy let go of of the necklace and rushed out of the car, slamming the door again. She squinted at the man standing by the elevator. “Luke?”
“Miss Summers, this is Jason Taylor, Mr. Grey’s personal security guard.”
She looked back at Luke, “So why haven’t I met him yet?”
“Make no mistake, Jason’s been around, but Mr. Grey wanted to ensure that you and I were acquainted properly as I am assigned as your personal security.”
Jason extended a hand. “Miss Summers, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Grey is expecting you.” He pressed the elevator call button.
She cracked her knuckles. “I hope he’s expecting an ass-kicking then.”
Jason and Luke exchanged an amused glance. The elevator doors opened and Jason reached his arm in to ensure they did not close as Buffy entered.
===
The scent of whiskey wafted through the elevator. Buffy looked down at the dark stain on her white shirt. Reinvigorated to yell, she closed her fists and took a deep breath. The elevator doors opened into the loft and she stormed through.
Christian sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, glass in hand.
Her heels clicked loudly against the expensive flooring. She threw her shoulders back, losing her jacket and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. “What is wrong with you?”
He kept his eyes focused on the bubbling champagne and took another sip.
She slammed her hand on the counter, noticing the bottle next to him was nearly empty, as was his glass. “Don’t you dare try ignore me.”
“What do you want me to say?” His voice was was rough, matching his tone. His shoulders were noticeably tighter under the thin cloth of his v-neck tee.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I want you to tell me why you acted like such an ass.”
Christian looked up at her, his eyes much more glossy than they had been at the bar. “Oh, I acted like an ass? I’m not the one trying to fuck random guys in bars while I’m supposed to be working.”
She shoved the glass from his hand and across the counter. “Listen, buddy, you don’t own me.”
Christian stood and looked down at her, a grimace distorted his attractive face. “Well I'm paying a lot of fucking money for you to be here.”
Buffy pushed her hands into his chest, shoving him lightly.
“Don't.”
“You’re paying for my Slayer services, not me .” Her phone beeped loudly.
“Go ahead and check it. It's probably your new fuck toy. Looking to see where his whor-.”
Buffy's palm flew at Christian's face. He caught her wrist and squeezed tightly, raising her arm enough that she was forced forward, nearly closing the distance between them.
Her heart pounded in her ears. She felt a sudden ache between her thighs.
Christian could feel the heat of her body and it made him hard. I could bend her over the counter right here and fuck her until she submits.
Without thought, they had begun leaning towards each other. Their lips close, Buffy reached her free hand and placed it against Christian's chest.
He pushed her away with a sudden, violent force. “Don't touch me!” He shouted as Buffy felt the impact of the counter into her back. His breaths were fast and heavy, his eyes wide eyes stared back at hers.
Buffy's mouth hung open, her heart racing. What just happened? She couldn't get the words out.
“I can't,” his voice barely above a whisper. His head was spinning; “I can't be touched here.” He motioned to his entire torso.
She started to ask why before her phone interrupted with a loud ringing indicating an incoming call.
“Go ahead.” He turned around, trying to catch his breath. Fuck. Keep it together.
Buffy stepped out of the kitchen, giving each other some needed space. She looked at her phone and sighed with relief that it was Willow. “Hey, Willow.
“Buffy!” Willow's cheery voice was much needed comfort. “I'm so glad you answered. Is your hot boss still making you flustered?”
Buffy ran her fingers through her hair. “Something like that.” Her voice shook.
“Is he around?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay okay, I won't make it awkward. Giles and I have been really trying to analyze those pictures you sent, but there's nothing we could see that matches any kind of religious, pagan, or demonic imagery.”
“Nothing caught my eye either. But I went to the bar tonight. I thought maybe I could scope out any shady characters.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. The bar owner's brother took interest in me. He's an artist. He graffitis.”
“Hmmmm…”
Buffy began to fidget with the charm. “Yeah. So I'm going to lunch with him tomorrow. Maybe I can get close enough to find out more info. His brother was definitely shady looking. He sat in the VIP section surrounded by several armed men.”
“You think they could be behind it?”
“Well, all those victims had one thing in common, that bar was their last seen location. Oh! And get this, there was a bouncer standing guard outside , facing the alley. That wasn't in the reports.”
“That is kind of weird. But was a bouncer always there or did that start after the murders went public?”
“Good point, Willow.” Buffy paced near the couch. “I'll try to find out.”
“Be careful.”
“I will be.”
“Text me.”
“I will.” Buffy disconnected the call.
“The owner's brother?” Christian's voice was softer, his shoulders slumped slightly as he stood at the end of the living room area.
“Yeah. His name is Jesse. He said he's an artist. I asked if he does graffiti and he said yeah.”
“Maybe some.of his handy work is in the alley?” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Exactly.”
Christian took a deep breath. “You’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow?”
“Yes, eavesdropper.” She smirked a little, trying to break the tension. “Him and his brother are too suspiciously connected. I want to find out more.”
“Well this blows the whole ‘girlfriend’ angle.”
Buffy walked passed Christian to the foyer and picked up her jacket. “Actually, I can still use that. I can tell him that I do actually know you. We just broke up.” She bit her lip in thought as she put her coat back on. “That would give me a really good out if he starts to get too” she paused “intense.”
Christian crossed his arms; the jealousy began to warm his body. Deep breath. Don’t lose it again.
“So what happened to the bombshell you were dancing with?” She caught Christian’s gaze. “Ya know, the brunette ? Just your type.”
I don’t want her. I couldn’t even get a chub with her ass grinding against me. “Probably went home with someone who didn’t act like a drunken fool and get kicked out of the bar.”
“Ha. Too bad. You could’ve been having a much better night than arguing with me.”
“I think I’d rather fight with you than fuck anyone else.”
Buffy squeezed her phone, her eyes were wide. She cleared her throat. “Well, you seem to know where all the anger buttons are. Glad it’s fun for you because it’s frustrating for me.”
Christian stepped close to Buffy. “How frustrating?” I want you so fucking bad.
She felt the reignited ache between her thighs as she looked up into his grey eyes. She opened her mouth to speak when her phone beeped again. Saved by the bell.
Fuck. Christian ground his teeth.
She glanced at the message and noticed the time. “I should be going. It’s getting late and apparently lunch for some people really does start at noon.”
“I’ll be in meetings all day tomorrow, but if something happens, you know how to reach me.” He reached for the elevator call button. “Oh, and Mr. Sawyer is at your disposal. I may be untrusting of most people, but I do trust him to at least help get you out of a situation you don’t want to be in.” He put his hand up as she opened her mouth to respond. “I know, Miss Summers, you are more than capable. Just have him drive you, that’s all I ask.”
Buffy took a deep breath as the doors opened. “Okay.” She entered the elevator; Christian headed to his room, unwilling to watch the doors separate them again.