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  All or Nothing

  Copyright © 2015 by T.L. Reeve

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-844-5

  Cover art by Syneca Featherstone

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  Dedication

  To Dakota, thank you for pushing me to do this story.

  All or Nothing

  By

  T.L. Reeve

  A Beyond Fairytales

  Adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s

  “She Was Good for Nothing”

  Chapter One

  Once upon a time….

  “Why are you doing this?” Quin asked her best friend, Harley. “I don’t think Charlie is going to like knowing you handed me the job.” Even if I could really use it right now. Quin Abraham put her phone on speaker and began to pace the small expanse of her efficiency apartment’s living room. In the last six months, her life had taken a nosedive off a very tall building into shark-infested—no, piranha-infested—shallow waters.

  “Because you need the job and Charlie knows. He’s the one who offered it.” She could practically see her friend shrug on the other side of the phone. “Come on, Q, what could it hurt? You need out of that rat-hole city.”

  Quin glanced around her dilapidated home. Her best friend was right. She hadn’t always been this low on the totem pole. Six months ago, she’d found a Master and a job every girl could only dream of having. Her old apartment was on the east side of town with all the other rich bitches. Then, Tony, her Master and lover for almost three years, brought her to the club and did the one thing she never figured he do—uncollared her in front of all their friends.

  “Yeah, maybe. But, I can’t pay for a ticket. How am I supposed to get there without one? I obviously can’t swim the Atlantic.” Harley and Charlie, her boyfriend, had moved to Madrid a few months back to help Joaquin de la Fuente owner of Fuente Security reestablish his home office. According to Harley, for six long years Joaquin had worked out of their New York branch, but his reclusive brother had made an epic mess of everything. Though the American arm of their security business stayed in the black, the Spanish side, not so much. They were hemorrhaging money like a severed artery bled out.

  “Already taken care of. Check your e-mail.”

  Quin sat down at her dingy table and opened her tablet. When her e-mail icon appeared, she pushed the button and watched as the flight itinerary popped up on the screen. “How do you know I’ll even accept this, Harley?”

  “Because it’s in your nature. You know I’m right about the job, and the scenery, too.” The rumble of a male voice in the background let Quin know Charlie listened in on their conversation.

  “Hi, Charlie,” she called out.

  “Quin.” The deep timbre of his voice penetrated her senses. A shiver of need crawled down her spine. “You’re coming to Spain.” His tone brokered no negotiation.

  “Well, since you asked so nicely.” She snorted. “Do your Dommy thing to Harley; she likes it more.” I’m not worth it anyway.

  “Quin.” He drew out the last two letters of her name. A thread of anticipation she couldn’t quite shake raced through her. What would he do if she kept it up? Nothing. You’re not his. You don’t belong to anyone anymore. “I would hate to beat your ass the minute you step off the corporate jet.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she muttered.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Charlie,” she whined. “Put Harley back on the phone; she listens better.” She heard the Dom laugh and, a few seconds later, her friend’s voice filled the line one more time.

  “So, a driver will be by pick you up in about two hours. The jet will be waiting for you. All you have to do is show your itinerary at the airport and they’ll get you to the plane.”

  God love Harley, but she would kill her friend before this was all over.

  “I don’t know how, or when, but I will make sure Charlie gives you what you deserve for planning this little coup d’état.”

  “She’s getting it right now, Quin. There are certain advantages for having your girl as your assistant. Say good-bye, Quin.” She heard Charlie’s tight groan and rolled her eyes.

  “Good-bye, pervert.”

  Hanging up with Harley, Quin sat there for a moment longer and looked around. The paint peeled in the corner near the front door. Brown water stains dotted her popcorn stucco ceiling. The carpet needed to be replaced. The same could be said about her bedroom’s condition. Maybe her friend had been right. She needed a change and a better job. She’d gone from being an executive assistant to one of the major Fortune 500 companies to working temp jobs with no clear picture of what her future would hold.

  She should have listened to the talk around the club. Should have known better than to believe Tony instead of the girls. But, subs could be vicious creatures when they wanted, and most of the girls at the club were vipers. They struck out at anyone who wanted a piece of their Master’s pie. So when Tabby told her about Tony, she blew it off. Stupid move. Oh well, live and learn. As it stood, domination and submission didn’t rule her life. Yet a part of her still craved kneeling beside her Dom. For now, until she could reestablish herself, she would have to push aside her needs.

  “God, I’m such an idiot for falling for his tricks.” Quin walked to her bedroom and began packing her bag for the trip. “At least being submissive isn’t part of the job package,” she muttered while grabbing what she needed.

  She glanced around the plain bedroom with the drab curtains and frowned. Shouldn’t she feel any kind of sadnes
s at leaving her life behind? Or excitement for the journey yet to come? No, not right now. Right now, her only thoughts consisted of her getting the hell out of Dodge. If she never returned, well the owner could have her shit. She’d buy what she needed while in Spain. Maybe starting over somewhere else would do me some good.

  When the car pulled up in front of her home, she took one last look around. “See you when I see you,” she said to no one in particular as she opened the door and stepped out.

  If she didn’t have bad luck, she wouldn’t have any at all. The drive took longer than expected. An accident on the freeway left them sitting for well over an hour. By the time she arrived at the airport, she had to hurry to find the private jet terminal. The bright side to all of this? Being able to see the plane sitting on the tarmac waiting for her.

  “Me name be Nicodemus, and ye be needing a tale to calm your nerves.” A man no taller than a child stood before her leaning on his cane as she glanced around the terminal.

  Wearing a red button-down shirt and green breaches, he reminded her of a garden gnome right down to the pipe in his free hand. His wiry beard curled and sprang in different directions, like weathered bramble dried by the elements. It fluttered, separating the brittle strands as a set of electric-blue legs appeared, followed by the body of a spider.

  “No thank you,” she whispered, cringing at the sight of the tarantula. Right now, all she wanted was on the plane and in the air.

  The man studied her for a moment. The corners of his eyes crinkled as a mischievous glint filled his gaze. “A worrier ye be.”

  “Huh?” Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t even paid attention to the little man after a polite refusal.

  “I knew a woman like you. For a coin I be tellin’ ye about her,” Nicodemus prodded.

  Quin blew out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. Maybe she could use the distraction after all. She turned back to the man. “Fine, let’s hear this tale.” She opened her purse and pulled out a dollar. Placing it in the hat sitting before the man, she watched as the spider climbed down from its perch and picked up her donation. The little arachnid chirped and whistled the whole way back up its owner’s arm then deposited it in the man’s hands.

  “Such a good little spider,” he said, rubbing the tarantula head.

  “I’m sure.” She suppressed a shudder.

  A soft chuckle passed his lips. “Once upon a time….”

  ***

  “Sir, your new assistant is here for her tour.” Joaquin de la Fuente glanced up from his computer. Charlie had told him about Quin last night over a round of shots and the latest financials.

  “Thank you, Rita,” he said, standing up. “Did she get settled into the apartment the company set up for her without any problems?”

  “Yes. Harley called to say she’d made it in late last night.” His secretary grinned before backing out. She’d been with the company for almost forty years. His father had hired her right out of high school and she’d been loyal to them ever since. Joaquin hated to see her go, but with a new grandson and another grandbaby due in a few months, she wanted to spend more time living than working. He couldn’t fault her.

  Following her, Joaquin straightened his tie and buttoned two of the three buttons on his jacket. He stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders while lifting his chin. He wanted to come off as being in charge, but not as a total prick. As he came around the corner to the waiting area, he spotted her right off. Her curly, dark-brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun and a pair of glasses sat on her pert nose. The muted frock she wore did nothing to flatter her figure.

  “Miss Abraham?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.

  “You must be Mr. de la Fuente.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she took his hand in a firm handshake.

  “Welcome to Fuente Security. Did you enjoy your trip?” He didn’t want to remove his hand from hers. Joaquin took great pleasure keeping her delicate palm tucked within his.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered, avoiding his stare.

  “Well then, let’s begin your tour, shall we?” His fingers brushed over her wrist, and he felt her pulse accelerate.

  “Uh, sure.” She licked her lips.

  He placed his hand at the small of her back and bit back a groan. Heat radiated where he touched her, and his dick went hard at the scent of her floral shampoo. The strong, visceral reaction surprised Joaquin, since it rarely happened anymore.

  She pushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear as a blush stole over her cheeks. “The apartment is fantastic too. The scene I woke up to took my breath away.” Her apartment overlooked the Manzanares—a natural waterway that gave life to the sublime architecture surrounding it.

  “Excellent.” He beamed. “I picked out the apartment for you myself. I know the furnishings are sparse, but I had a feeling you’d rather buy your own. Harley has a list of stores we use around here. She’ll help you pick stuff out, and you have an open account to purchase what you need.”

  “Thank you for the offer.” Her cool, even tone spoke volumes about her predicament. Any other woman would have gone insane at the prospect of going shopping, but Quin seemed unfazed by the idea. “What I have there now will do. I gather up what I can, when I can.”

  “Whatever you are comfortable with, Miss Abraham.” He pulled the door open. “This is the hub of the company. Our team of technicians runs three shifts here. Each section of this floor covers a different sector of the globe. Our techs are taught the ins and outs of each system. They know them better than our installers, and the installers know them better than our creators. At Fuente Security, we strive to make sure all of our employees are treated like family and an integral part of the team. Once a month, we have classes where each member learns about the system upgrades, what our new projects are, and if there are any changes with the current hardware and software.”

  “Wow,” she murmured. “So pretty much anyone could install and build their own security packages?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t they just start their own firms? It seems you give away secrets left and right here. Anyone could steal your technology and move on.”

  He liked the way she thought. So did his cock. The randy bastard pushed against his pants, demanding her attention.

  “Good question. We have had instances where some people have left and gone on to build smaller companies. However, when they couldn’t keep up with the innovations taking place here….” He shrugged. “They disappeared. Nevertheless, if a team member creates a better, more efficient system by tinkering with a current model, we pay them a substantial amount for their invention. We take care of those who take care of us, Miss Abraham.”

  “Please, call me Quin.” She stepped away from him and strolled to the middle of the floor. Her eyes closed and he wondered what she was thinking. Phones rang, and the soft murmur of associate chatter filled the room. “Where to next?” she asked once she turned her attention to him.

  “Our design floor. I thought you might like to see our systems before they’re installed.” He directed her to the back corridor. “This is the most interesting part of the tour,” he said opening the door for her. “You’ll be able to see the coding we use along with the actual components it takes to create our top-of-the-line systems. Did you happen to read the notebook I left on the jet for you?”

  “I did. I find your business model fascinating and was saddened to hear about the issues you’re facing here. Yet, I have to believe some things happen for a reason.”

  “I agree. When I found out how bad off our home office had become, I knew the time had come to revamp the company. In the last few weeks, Charlie and I have overhauled everything. Right down to the screws we use to put our products together.” Once she started to relax, it became easier to talk to her.

  “I have a suggestion if you don’t mind hearing about it, or would you rather I wait till the end of the tour?” Her words came out in rapid-fire succession.

&n
bsp; “I love suggestions. Tell me.” His voice became a sensual purr, and he could have sworn she shivered. The dominant inside him sat up and took notice of the woman in front of him. Something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

  “I think we could make your technical-support room work more efficiently. From what I read on the flight over, all of your technicians also answer courtesy calls. Some people call just to say they like the product or to reconfirm appointments. Your workers are averaging an extra ten point two seconds per call for nominal things. If you broke your tech support into a subgroup, so the simple calls aren’t inundating your techs, those who have real issues will reach a live person quicker than with the current system.”

  Joaquin paused to contemplate Quin’s words carefully. “Are you sure?”

  “Off the top of my head and from the little information provided in the notebook you gave me, yes. Of course, I would have to sample your call volume to get a firm number, but my guess should be right on the mark.”

  Brains and beauty; today must be my lucky day.

  “The information will be waiting for you Monday morning when you arrive. Now, here we are.” He opened the outer door of the facility and pointed to the white suits hanging up on the rack. “We wear these to make sure dust particles don’t get into our sterile environment.” He handed her one of the smaller suits. “This should fit over your clothes.” When she took it from him, he began pulling on his own.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your rate of recall due to contamination?” Quin pulled the garment over her clothes and zipped it up, then pulled the hood up and placed on a pair of goggles.

  “Less than one percent,” he answered, blown away by her complete enthusiasm and knowledge.

  “Pretty good, but what if I told you there are companies without an isolation chamber like this one with the same rate of contamination. See, it’s not the actual parts that cause a breakdown. Although screws and plates and parts can break, they’re not the sum of the whole. When the chips are created, or when the software is uploaded into the hardware, that’s where most of the corruption occurs. I have a feeling those recalls you did have were due to a series of coding which might have had a glitch. Now, if said glitch caused a certain part of the hardware to overheat causing wires to melt or to fry out a chip or sensor, it is logical to believe the burnt part would cause a system failure.” She shrugged. “Theoretically speaking, of course, wearing these fancy little white suits is just a fashion statement. You don’t really need them. Where you have to be careful Mr. de la Fuente, is in the upload of your software.”