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From Sub to Love Series

Bratty By Nature (Book 1)

A BDSM, Sub/Dom Standalone Novel

T. A. BEAU

Copyright © 2024 T. A. BEAU; All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Being an adult isn’t as easy as my parents made it seem.

At twenty-six, I was sure I’d have it all figured out. Sure, there would be a learning curve, but I remember being in high school and seeing college kids in movies and in real life and being sure they had unlocked the key to life. In college, older adults had the answers. And now that I’m twenty-six, I think everyone except a chosen few who have some kind of cheat codes to life are winging it on a daily basis.

“Rhiann, break’s over!” My boss yells for me, peeking into the small break room we have. Tanner looks me over and nods once. “At least you’re awake. Maybe take a few seconds to take care of those bags under your eyes before you return to the hostess stand.”

Rolling my eyes, I walk to the bathroom and dab on some makeup, covering up my exhaustion. I fluff my red hair before adjusting the style so the slightly rumpled appearance looks intentional.

Doubles are hell, but they keep me from slipping under my bills and being swallowed up. After running my fingers under my green eyes again just to make sure I look like I’m alive, I give the mirror my best smile.

There we go. Stepping back, I smooth out the black dress that I updated after buying it at a thrift store. It used to be a horrible mess straight from the eighties. I ditched the shoulder pads and crazy sleeves, shortened the dress so it stops at my thighs, and replaced the bright patterns that had been blazing across the top layer of the dress with a shimmery black fabric.

As a finishing touch, I’d pulled a few of the deep purple swirls and patterns from the original to frame the neckline and my cleavage so it looks fancy despite the dress itself only costing about ten dollars.

“This is temporary, Rhiann,” I tell my reflection. “I’m just here to stay afloat until I find a way to get that scholarship to fashion school.”

Two knocks on the door say my break between shifts really is up, so I head to the hostess stand.

Based on the crystal chandeliers, the fact that the whole restaurant has a dark, romantic feel with dark wood floors, plants along some of the walls, even water features and a stage for big events, I feel like I should be paid more.

I know how expensive the dishes are. I feel like I should get paid accordingly.

When a couple comes in, I flash a smile and play the game the rich are used to when they bring a date.

“Do you have a table Mr…?”

“Franks, and no.” He moves closer, slipping me a fifty. “But maybe you can help me out with that.” He winks.

I pretend I’m swayed and impressed by the name and the gesture. “Sure, Mr. Franks, this way, please.”

I lead him and his date to the table. “This is the best table in the house. Have a seat and I’ll send over a waiter to take your order.”

“Excellent. The service here is already impeccable.” He gives me another wink, a tell-tale sign that if all goes well, he’ll be a big tipper tonight.

I work my magic over the next hour, coordinating with the waiters and waitresses on what tables are open, who’s overwhelmed, and what sections need to be cleaned so we can get some new asses in seats.

After a few more hours, my feet are killing me, my knees ache from wearing heels and standing for twelve hours, and I’ve gotten three emails about the credit card debt my ex was kind enough to give me when he left.

“Hello, miss,” a deep croon of a voice said, dragging me out of my worry as to whether I’ll ever get those debts cleared. “Are you waiting for a date?”

“Hmm?” I look up from the tablet showing the current seating arrangement in the restaurant and find myself looking at a massive hunk of a man.

I manage to catch my jaw before it hits my podium. This man isn’t just wealthy-though it’s rolling off him based on the effortless style of his suit and the gold tie that brings out the gold flecks in his dark eyes-he’s damn attractive too. Droolworthy.

His thick dark hair has a slight curl to it even though he’s tamed it in a modest, good-looking pompadour. His beard and mustache are trimmed neatly. There’s a daring edge to his dark eyes. I take in the broad shoulders, the fact he has to be at least six foot two, and that he’s dense. I’m betting muscle since most guys who suck in their gut to look built end up red in the face or wheezing through their sentences.

Blinking at him stupidly, I realize he’s asked me a question. “I’m not waiting for the kind of date you’re talking about, but if you need someone to sit with you until yours arrives, I’m happy to do that at the bar ... until someone else needs to be seated.”

“Oh, the hard-to-get route then,” he hums.

“Is being honest the same as being hard to get?” I counter, making sure to keep my smile.

He chuckles, showing a dimple in his right cheek.

“You look like you’re determining my worth, Miss ... Rhiann,” he says after noting my name tag.

I hold up my finger as I step around the podium and study his shoes. Once I’m done, I slip back into place and flash an easy smile. He arches an eyebrow.

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

“You have an excellent tailor to customize your blazer and while I normally don’t recommend any shoe color other than black, the gold accents on your shoes work well with the tie and your cufflinks. Although, I’d say that the black and black blazer and button up only works for funerals and John Wick.”

“Oh, only him?”

“Especially since you already have dark hair. Some balance would help and a colored button up would move the eye over your chest more so you could impress with how broad your shoulders are,” I finish.

“So you’re not impressed?” he asks, leaning on my podium.

I stare at his elbow pointedly, but he smirks. “Rhiann, are you impressed or-”

“I’m not impressed with someone putting their elbow on the only thing I’m allowed to lean against here,” I tease.

“Oh, well, then I’ll have to make up for it, and show you I’m capable of impressing you without bothering you,” he says lightly.

I open my mouth to keep teasing him, but he cuts in. “I’m betting sending you a drink or complimenting your dress is something you’re too used to, so what can I compliment?”

“Are you asking for permission?”

“No, no,” he says, straightening to his full height. “I don’t ask for permission, I give it.”

“I bet you do when you manage to find a date to actually accompany you to a restaurant,” I assure. “I can seat you at the bar so you don’t feel the sting of that burn.”

“Or you could sit down with me,” he offers.

“It’s not that kind of restaurant. I’m a normal hostess,” I tap my podium. “I live here except when I walk you to your table to keep you from getting lost.”

“So there’s no way to convince you to be my company tonight?”

“Let’s see ...” I tap my chin. “No name offered up, tells me he doesn’t ask for permission, dressed in all black like a criminal, and wants my company for dinner because he didn’t bring his own to a restaurant … If it were you, is that something you’d say yes to, stranger?”

The attractive stranger in question rubs over his jaw, drawing my attention to his very attractive mouth and the little scar on his chin. As much as I’m enjoying our playful conversation and teasing, I can’t help but consider what he’s saying. He’s the first person to talk with me like a person all night, not just bribe me to keep up appearances.

“My name is Arlington, and I think joining me for dinner will be worth it,” he finally decides. “Call Tanner over.”

I blink at him. “Whoa. Money or not, I don’t need my boss to seat you. I’m perfectly capable of doing that.” I check my tablet and see four open tables. I give him a cheeky smile anyway. “In twenty minutes. Maybe a few drinks will cool you off.”

“Who says I want to cool off?” he asks.

In a move I don’t expect, he slides around behind me, crowding me against the podium as his cologne floods my senses. It’s spicy and masculine with earthy tones to soften it. He smells mouthwatering and his warm body sliding around mine as he grips either edge of the podium feels dangerous.

His voice drops to a low, husky, intimate growl. “Be a good girl, Rhiann. You might not be used to it, but it will feel good.”

Two sentences and goosebumps rise on my skin and my nipples harden. I force myself to swallow and look back at him over my shoulder. “I’ll seat you when-”

“There are three open tables in the back and one right here, close to you. Give me the closest,” he orders.

“That’s not how this works. You’re the customer, I’m behind the podium. I make the decisions here. How about you be good and stop crowding my space?” I sass.

He chuckles and raises his hand. He strokes through one lock of my half-curling hair, following it to my ear. Just when I think I’m going to have to call security, he pulls my earpiece free.

“Tanner, I’m stealing your hostess for dinner. Get someone to replace her,” Arlington says without room for argument.

I glower at him. “I’m not a possession. You can’t just steal me.”

“In that dress, it might be a little difficult to get you out of the restaurant without tossing you over my shoulder, but I think I can manage a meal,” he says just as Tanner appears.

“Rhiann, who was that on you- oh, Mr…?”

“Tanner, find a replacement for Rhiann here.”

“Ah, yes … sure. I can do that,” Tanner stutters, something he never does. “It’s okay, Rhiann. I can take over.” My boss smiles.

I look at Arlington, speechless.

Who is this man?

Arlington sets my earpiece on the hostess stand and reaches around me to tap the table he wants, but I batt his hand away and choose one in the back so no one will see us. He arches an eyebrow.

“You want a nice private spot?”

“I don’t want the entire staff to see me slacking off,” I snap. “And I’m determined not to enjoy this.”

“We’ll see, won’t we, Rhiann? Who knows, you might just enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll enjoy being off my heels, but you’re going to have to work a lot harder to impress me,” I counter, grabbing menus and leading us to the balcony to sit.

“I haven’t done the job?”

“Nope. You back slid. The conversation was fun until you slipped into my personal space,” I huff.

My heel catches on the top step and I stumble, falling into Arlington. He stares down at me, his gaze sizzling across my skin. “Your personal space is just so tempting, how could I resist?”

“Are you buttering me up for something? I should make it really clear … when you leave, I’m going back to that podium,” I state clearly.

“And if someone else tries to slip behind it and touch you, I hope you give them twice the sass you’ve given me,” he says with a bright, perfect smile while leading me to the table.

I expect him to get quiet the second we sit down, start barking orders, or make things awkward. It makes it twice as surprising that he sits across from me, asks for my recommendations, and then talks to me for the entire meal. Limited flirting, no hints at wanting me to go home with him, and he doesn’t flash his cash around.

It leaves me with the dizzying question: Who the hell is this man?

{1

Chapter 2

I grip the sheets on my bed as he spreads my legs and thrusts into me hard. Our bodies slap together, but his hands are soft on my thighs, moving to my hips to pull me closer. I smell his spicy, woodsy scent all over me, feel his mouth across my breasts, his huge hands claiming more of me as he growls my name against my throat.

“Rhiann,” Arlington moans.

He sinks into me again and again, igniting an aching pleasure that’s just not enough to push me over the edge.

In a move too fast for me to understand, he lifts my ass off the bed, so I brace myself on my shoulders. He fucks me while standing on the floor, holding me up so I’m levitating. His face is shadowy, but those gold flecks in his eyes, his warm hands all over me, heat me to the core. I’m either going to spontaneously combust or come.

“Say my name. Be a good girl. Say my name if you want to come,” he orders, his voice a low, intimate growl that comes from everywhere and reverberates through me until all I can do is moan.

He chants, “be good”, over and over until I’m right on the edge, his body rubbing against mine, his cock so thick, so perfect inside me that I don’t know how I’ve ever lived without having him before.

Right as my head falls back and I’m about to let myself fall into the best orgasm of my life, I wake up. My eyes open slowly and I beat my pillow, frustrated that I can’t even come in my dreams! It’s not fair.

I’m wet, panting, hot all over, but I don’t get to finish.

Snorting, I stand and go through my morning routine.

Arlington has been a regular this past week. He’s been present four times already and always requests me to join him for dinner. The first time, I was pissy, the second time, I was surprised and sassier than I was on our first meeting, but the last two times … There were no awkward breaks in conversation. He kept up with my sarcasm and sass easily, laughing with me and firing back without fear.

He never failed to comment on my dresses or outfits, asking where I got them and then pressing me for information when I told him that I’d made them.

Thanks to him, I’m almost sad that I have today off.

I have a lazy morning, playing with the fabric I didn’t use from some of my creations. I want to make something that will catch a designer’s eye and earn me a scholarship from one of the two fashion schools in the city.

Thanks to my ex and my destroyed credit, a loan is out of the question, but a scholarship or grant ... I could earn that. I have to be good enough if someone like Arlington wants to show me off to people like he’s hinted at-or maybe he’s just trying to get under my clothes and into my pants.

I groan and try to get back to sketching my next design.

An hour later, my phone rings, distracting me from sewing, and I pick up for my best friend, Maggie.

“Please tell me you have today off!” She groans.

I look at the time-2 p.m. Maggie should be at work.

“I am. What’s going on?”

“Meet me at Cup of Joe in thirty minutes?” she asks.

“Yup,” I say simply.

I take my time getting dressed, choosing a casual crop top I made from the only useable part of a prom dress, then pull on high-waisted shorts. After finding wedges and styling my hair and makeup, I head out.

Maggie is already set with our drinks, sitting outside alone. She’s dramatically bent back over her chair, nearly sighing in frustration. Not a great sign.

I sit down and she groans. “I’m convinced that humans aren’t meant to work five days a week.”

“What happened?”

“It’s been such a bad week! Fridays are supposed to be good. Instead, I lose my friends with benefits because he wants to try dating someone. My boss got mad that I was actually clocking overtime instead of working off the clock like ‘the smart ones do’ and sent me home early, and … and the student loan company has sent me three bills telling me I’m past due. As if I can afford to spend another four hundred dollars a month!”

“I’m sorry, babe,” I say as I sip from my iced caramel coffee.

She rubs the back of her neck and keeps venting. I listen, tell her how dumb her boss and f.w.b. are, offer to help her fix things, until she’s talked herself out. She slumps, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“I know I have no room to complain. I’m not stupid, you know? A lot of people have it worse than me, and I shouldn’t ...” Her eyes meet mine as I sit back, and she shakes her head as she reaches for my hand. “I don’t mean you, Rhiann.”

“Yeah, I know,” I assure.

“I’ve clearly been complaining too much. I must sound like a whining bitch. How was your week? Have you explained to your credit card companies that your cards were stolen?”

“He didn’t really steal them.”

“Okay, well, you didn’t max out your card buying a PS5, you didn’t even take out that second and third credit card. He said he was paying the other-”

“I know. Okay, Remi did wrong by me, but I never said no and this is the consequence of dating someone who didn’t care about me,” I say with a shrug.

“Babe, you deserve better.” Another shrug answers her until she lightly swats me. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Maggie-”

“I’m serious.”

I roll my eyes and go through the positive self-talk she’s made me memorize since the breakup four months ago. “I’m a good person. I’m a great designer. I don’t deserve to be yelled at, ignored, used. I shouldn’t make myself less than just for a man, so I won’t. I’m a whole person by myself.”

“Do you believe that?” she asks seriously. “Because it’s all true. He was afraid that if he didn’t steal your confidence and ruin your future, you’d leave him because you’d see how much better you are than him.”

I play with my straw. “Well, he did the leaving, so-”

“No, he did the cheating and tried to blame that on you, too. I’m glad you put your foot down and forced him out.”

“If only I’d grabbed the credit cards,” I sigh.

“Seriously, you need to fight those charges. It was and is fraud. I’d know, considering I work in the fraud department at our bank,” she hints. “Once you clear that debt, you can go to fashion school, where you obviously belong, Rhiann. No one has style like you and no one I’ve ever met can turn terrible thrift store dresses and tops into couture the way you can. When are you sending your application … for fashion school and the scholarship by the way?”

“In a couple days. Finishing up on the cover letter. I’m so nervous. What if I don’t get it?”

“Honey, you will. They’d be a fool not to let you in. C’mon …”

I smile and we get around to talking about what’s new. Nothing for Maggie, since she spilled it all, but I find my cheeks heating.

“Spill! Oh my god, you have to spill. When you make that face, I know you have something good to share. So give it to me.”

“I don’t know if it’s anything, honestly,” I insist.

“Oh, that means it’s really juicy. Come on, take pity on my terrible week,” she says with a pout.

I nibble my bottom lip and sigh. “There’s a guy at work. I mean, he doesn’t work with me or anything, but he keeps coming in and, for some reason, my boss is fine with this guy stealing me for whatever meal he has. And they’re never like a quick thirty minute lunches or dinners either. It’s at least an hour and a half every time.”

“Oooh, skeevy or hot?” she asks.

I roll my eyes. “Somewhere in the middle. He’s gotten really flirtatious. Yesterday, he asked what it would take to get me out of the restaurant and on a real date that doesn’t end with me walking to the podium and telling him to come again.”

“Oh, he wants to be able to say that to you,” she giggles.

I blush.

“I bet he’d love to watch you come and keep you coming, chanting his name, sassing him, all the way through breakfast,” she teases.

“Shut up! It’s not like that. He’s hot and I’ve flirted back, teased him, been sassy. But he can be really intense, too,” I hint.

“Oh? Good intense or bad intense? Like the kind that makes you feel like the only girl in the room, or the kind that makes you feel like you’re going to be on Dateline?” She presses.

I tell her all about our last dinner. How his eyes didn’t miss a single thing, how he said I shouldn’t be hiding behind a podium when I have so much more to offer the world. He outlined a whole date on a yacht, he flirted and teased me with double entendre that I used to sass him. But Arlington doesn’t forget anything I tell him and always brings it up the next time I see him.

Then I hesitate as my face goes as red as my hair.

She leans forward. “Oh my god, did you already have fun with him? Tell me! Now. Right now. Whatever that face is, I need to know!”

“Not in real life. But I had a pretty hot dream about him last night … today morning actually. Woke me up …” I admit, slurping my drink until there’s only ice.

She moans. “Fuck. I might just have to show up at your job tomorrow and haunt the bar at the front to see this guy.”

“Mags, don’t get your hopes up. I’m still not ready to date. After Remi, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Plus, I need to focus on designing!”

“So you’re going to pass up on a guy you have chemistry with because you’re distracted?” She sighs. “I know you want to be a designer, I know you work like crazy, but don’t you deserve a reward for doing all you do? This guy could be the reward, Rhiann.”

“I don’t know.”

“Promise me you’re not going to sabotage this just because it’s new,” she insists.

We end our lunch on a pinky swear that I’ll take a chance if it feels right and then I spend the rest of the night sewing, drawing, and planning out new ideas while ignoring my household chores.

By the time I head to work at noon on Saturday, I feel like I haven’t had a chance to refresh from my one day off.

However, when I walk in, I see all the staff gathered together, sitting at the tables up front while Tanner paces. I walk in and sit next to the bartender, James.

“What’s going on?” I hiss.

“Apparently we’ve been bought out. Tanner’s all anxious about it. He says nothing is going to change, that we’re not closing, we’re all keeping our jobs,” James says.

Tanner looks around at us and goes over that information again. “Like I said, there’s no reason to go searching for another job. The day to day is staying the same for the most part, but there is going to be a transition phase, so if something comes up, we’ll email you. If you haven’t provided your email, put it on the tablet ... Rhiann ... there you are, can you pass that around?”

I go get it and start passing it around.

Once it’s halfway around, Tanner leans towards me. “Go to the office.”

“What?” I ask.

“The new owner wants to speak to you specifically,” Tanner says clearly.

With that bit of cryptic information, I head to the back office on the other side of the kitchen. I start to get anxious jitters-am I about to lose my job? I can’t afford to miss out on any paychecks. It would set me back a couple of weeks, and with my well-thought plan to work on my portfolio and submit for the scholarship, I couldn’t afford not having this job-literally.

It will be fine, breathe… I tell myself before knocking on the open door.

“Close the door, Rhiann,” a familiar voice says.

{1

Chapter 3

I shut the door and the swivel chair behind the desk turns, revealing Arlington. I gape at him. He’s not wearing a blazer today, just a deep red shirt and gray slacks that suit him a whole lot better than black on black. He’s taken my advice?

Staring at him feels like the right answer now that we’re in the half-dark office alone together. I swallow as I stare at him. Arlington stands up and looks me over. “You look so good in black.”

“Why ... why are you in the office?” I ask, unwilling to believe what’s obviously going on right in front of me.

He walks around the desk, then rests his ass on it as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You know the answer to that. I know how smart you are.”

“You ... your company bought out the restaurant?”

“Not a company, just me,” he says simply.

“Why ... why would you do that? To eat free or something? That seems like a big waste of money when it’s probably cheaper to-”

“I’m the boss so I control your pay and hours,” he says simply. “And, since you’re obviously the person who organizes everything here, when you are at work, I get more time with you.”

“Asking a girl on a date is cheaper.”

“I don’t care about price,” he dismisses. “This lets me do more.”

“You mean have more power,” I counter.

He chuckles. “Maybe both.”

“I’m not going to do anything sexual for my job. If you’re going to fire me or try and bribe me to get a promotion or raise or something, it’s not going to work.”

His face goes from warm to stoic in a second. “Is that what’s been suggested here before, Rhiann?”

I can’t keep up with his train of thought today. I’m too shocked by everything else that’s going on.

Arlington takes a step closer to me. “Did Tanner or anyone in management ever imply that if you did something for them, if you blew them, flashed them, even let them touch you that you’d-”

“No! No one. Tanner … no. If he had, I wouldn’t still be here and he’d be walking around with one testicle instead of the two I assume he has,” I say loudly.

The corner of Arlington’s mouth curves up. “Fierce girl.”

“This is ... a lot to take in. So you bought this to get a return on your investment and pay me more?” It still doesn’t make sense.

“And to see you more. I like the food, I like your company, and I like seeing how efficient and organized you are,” he hums. “It might be a little over the top.”

“It’s very over the top and you know it,” I whisper.

“It’s not easy to get your attention, Rhiann. I’m not some playboy that flirts with every attractive woman he sees,” he informs.

“You just flirt with the ones that sass you and basically tell you no?” I ask.

He takes another step closer. “You’ve never told me no.”

I open my mouth to argue, but realize he’s right. I’ve told him that if he’s planning to ask me out, the answer is ‘no.’ I’ve told him not to say certain things. I’ve sassed him, been sarcastic, but I haven’t said no to any serious question he’s asked me.

Arlington takes another step closer, reminding me that I only come up to his chest. I stare up at him. “Don’t say you did this for me.”

“I was biased, but it’s not just for you. However, wages are going to change. I didn’t realize how low everyone was being paid. No one is going to have to rely on tips anymore to pay their bills, that’s for damn sure,” he says seriously. “And you-you specifically-are not allowed to work back-to-back doubles.”

“But I-”

“Forty hour work weeks and overtime if needed, but there will be a cap on that. Fifty hours is the max anyone is to work a week, and you-”

“Stop changing things … it’s too much,” I say, holding my hands up.

“You are going to learn that obedience can and will be rewarded, even if I do like your sass,” he croons, taking one of my hands and pulling me closer.

I brace myself on his chest, not really sure what to do right now. I don’t push against him, just stare up at him. “This is happening too fast. There’s too much going on. All these changes! I took one day off. You’ve known me for a week-not even a week!”

He lowers his head. “Rhiann, I know what I want. I’m a very focused person and so are you. I want to spend more time with you … I’ve made it happen. I’ll give you a week to settle in, but I’d like you to take next weekend off.”