Wallstreet God (The House Of Creed Book 1)

by D. M. Burns

  “Hooker, no thanks are necessary. You know I’ll cash in on this later. Probably by dragging you to another concern real soon.” She winks at me while stuffing the pizza in her mouth.

  “It should be against the law to eat like you do without gaining a single pound.” I roll my eyes at her.

  “So, have ya ran into the lickable playboy of Wallstreet orgasms yet?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  “And you call me the hooker in this relationship?” I tilt my head at her and flutter my eyes dramatically.

  “If I worked in the same building as that guy, you damn right. I’d be a happy, satisfied, and shameless whore. One hundred, for real-real.” She says with all seriousness. I laugh out loud, but she goes completely serious on me. “You’re holding out.” God, she knows me so well.

  “I’ve met him. He’s intense and downright intimidating to the core of my soul.” He also consumes my thoughts while exciting my dreamland vagina beyond those corporate doors. I shrug my shoulders.

  “If you subtract the money, strip the corporate tycoon label away as well as the billionaire title, and of course the dirty sex aura that his body promises, he’s just an average Joe.” She shrugs.

  “Jesus, Tam… Dirty sex, huh?” I toss my half-eaten piece of pizza in the box and lay back on my fluffy rug.

  “Girl, I would so ride him like the diamond eyed stallion he is but with a hate-fuck happy ending outlook in every stroke of that pony.” I reach out and slap my best friends’ leg while laughing. She’s one hundred percent serious though.

  “Tam, he’s my boss man. I try to steer away from inner office relationships. They tend to end badly, yeah?” I loll my head to the side and peer at her.

  “Damn all that. That’s half the problem with ya, Brea-bee. Not every sexual encounter has to end in a relationship babe. Just get a good orgasm out of it and move on. A hot hookup is just that, sex. A future happy marriage of bliss, no.”

  That’s the thing with Tamera, she doesn’t expect anything from a man but good sex. No financial push. No emotional ties. No follow-up. No relationship. That’s another point of view we don’t see eye to eye on. Giving myself over to someone will have a deeper meaning for me. I’m not wire the same way as her but there will be no judgments, ever. We just agree to disagree and move on.

  “I don’t look at it as a problem I have, Tam. I’m simply waiting for my person to come along.”

  “Babe, it’s not a problem, no. You know I didn’t mean it that way. I just think sexual satisfaction would put pep in ya step and make your little butterfly wings flap more excitedly.” She chuckles.

  “I’m not fishing for bed partners at the workplace either way. Anyhoo, there’s this one guy that I think you’d thoroughly enjoy. Devour, probably.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

  The day I met Damien Reed, I instantly thought of Tamera. She’d eat him alive and enjoy every second of it. Those two would be an epic matchup. They’re a hate hookup waiting to happen with a lot of lusty, hot bang-out sessions around the corner. I feel it in my gut.

  “Okay then, you have my attention.” She says right before she bites into her third piece of pizza.

  “His name is Damien Reed. One of Brogan’s partners. I think you’d both enjoy each other’s company. Probably multiple times.” I giggle.

  “That cup of man mocha was on the cover of GQ magazine. I know all about him. Hell Brea, I’m not going to lie. I know about all of the five horsemen of hotness that lead The House of Creed with their flaming swords.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Most everyone does and each one of those guys are yum.” She shrugs. “I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting him.” I can tell that Tam’s interested and not just for sexual purposes either. I knew Damien’s energetic vibe and glam appearance would be enough to reel her in.

  “Great then. You can be my plus one to the New Year’s Eve bash. It’s a huge deal and a new company social thingy their holding for the first time this year. Mark your schedule for me please.” She nods. Getting her attention through sexy man candy is key.

  “Well, hooker I’ve got to head out. There’s a new band playing at Brandy’s Bar and you know I like to get a musical impression in person. Since I can’t talk you into going, Max is meeting me there.”

  Max Boric is our mutual guy friend that looks out for me and Tam like he’s our pimp. He adds hilarity to our entertaining trio and genuinely loves us. With his beautiful Brad Pitt vibe and his lust for the male population that rivals Tam’s, he fits right in. Even though a couple of times, I thought Max and Tam were going to brawl over their mutual male selection, dirty south style.

  “Tell Max I love him. You guys be safe and I promise to make the next musical outing. I’ve just been pulling late hours getting my project at work wrapped up.” Tam stands and pulls me up off the floor. I move with her to the door.

  “Get a present under that tree for me, hooker.” She hugs me tightly and I thank the big man up above for my best friend. “Let me know the deets on that New Year’s company social and I’m there as long as my schedule doesn’t fill up with work.” She wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the five horsemen. It’s a win-win for me as well as her.

  “Thanks for helping me tonight, Tam. Love you.”

  “Bye, bitch.” She throws the peace sign up over her head as she moves for the stairs.

  Slowly, I shut and lock the door. When I turn around, I stare at the beautifully decorated tree and mentally start to tick off my Christmas list for Tam.

  chapter 11

  brogan

  What the fuck was I thinking when I kissed Brealyn? It’s really simple. My foreign uninvited wants for that woman, that’s all. I was thinking about, ME. My need to have her. My need to know her mind. My need to take her body. My need to taste her. My need to quench the animalistic desires that thrive in me for every fucking thing that is her.

  Yeah, everything about what I want. Giving a shit about anything or anyone else is an unacquainted concept for ME. And fuck Nate Nixon. Other than wanting to crush that so-called presidential blood descendant with my bare hands while seeping his bank account dry, he’s irrelevant.

  The alcohol was pumping in my blood and my mouth kept opening with vocalized answers for her secret thoughts. I didn’t stop there though, oh hell no. I decided to take it a step further by kissing her silky sweet country lips. All my wants simply backfired as soon as I touched her. It did nothing but fuel the high-rise flaring fire that seems to be incinerating my insides to dust.

  My no fucks given newfound attitude when it comes to anything Brea related is what has kept me out of the office for damn near a fucking month now. I haven’t been in Georgia overseeing shit. I pay others damn good money to handle those trivial tasks. I’ve been hiding out in my damn penthouse from a blonde-headed, blue-eyed, marketing director that’s on my payroll.

  After snapping on my god damn partners and losing my shit at The Plaza, I’ve cornered myself off in my building until I can get my shit under control. I’ve never been this out of sorts before and it’s perplexing.

  When I hear the elevator door open, I turn away from my cold squared wall of glass that displays the nightly view of New York. Carson is bouncing his bubbly redheaded elf having self-down the long corridor and my eyeroll is automatic.

  “I brought the files you wanted.” He tosses the vanilla folders out on the bar then tucks his hands into his pants pocket and studies me a moment. “I can’t believe you still do files. Technology is a wonderful thing. You should try it, Brogan.”

  “Somethings don’t need to be found on a computer. It’s wise to remember that. What happened to Geneva? She was supposed to drop this off.” I nod at the files.

  “She had to get home for her husband’s birthday celebration.” Carson edges his way over to the sofa and lounges down.

  “Shit… I need to send something over.” I start across the room for my phone.

  “I handled it. Figured you’d forget.” Carson says.

  “Damn, I
owe you. Thanks, Car. I’m completely losing my god damn mind.” I scrub my hands through my hair.

  “What’s going on with you man?”

  “Nothing.” I pace over to the bar and pour me a glass of Southern Comfort. Changing it up. A tribute to her. God damn it. “We need to set up a meeting with CC Capital’s investors for Monday morning. Let’s move on this deal before anyone else decides to wade in and fuck around with my plans. Once I have this out of the way everything else will fall back into place.”

  “Sure. That’s not a problem.” Carson says. “Is it safe to assume you’ll be back in the office Monday?” I nod my head and dive in.

  “Why did you hire her? And don’t give me that shit that she was in demand, Car.” I tilt my head and eyeball him.

  This question has been turning over and over in my mind until the last puzzle piece snapped into place. I already know. It took me a minute to figure it out but this asshole knew I would eventually. I want to allow him the opportunity to tell me himself.

  “Well…” He rubs the back of his neck and looks off to the side. “She was a part of the Crossover Financial buyout merger that we single-handedly killed two years ago. We were responsible for landing her in the unemployment line. That shit didn’t sit right with me.”

  “Her and five hundred other people. But we completed job placement and severance packages for every person.” I shift out from around the bar and creep closer to Carson. It’s her. I fucking knew it.

  “Why are you asking me? You already know it’s her Brogan. She was the only one that denied the compensation pay and job assistance.” He smirks. This little bastard.

  “That was a stupid fucking move on her behalf too. Companies are bought out every day.” I deadpan.

  “It’s an admirable trait, stubborn but admirable. Plus, she has no idea that it was us that bought the company out, Brogan. There’s no reason for her to find out either.” He shrugs.

  Carson and I bought out a small company that was family-owned and operated and incidentally Brea worked there. Normally, I don’t bother with small company’s but it was all about location. It was perfectly placed right in the middle of a multi-million-dollar real estate deal that I was after. I needed the damn site location plain and simple.

  After threatening to cut off their resources and drain the company dry, my attorneys drew up a contract, and presented it to the owners. My reputation is widespread; known and felt. Ultimately, it was either sell or I would wait them out, and eventually, they’d go belly up forcing them to file bankruptcy. They reluctantly agreed to sellout, but only if I consented to give all their employee's severance packages.

  My only financial stipulation to that was to deduct the expense from the sales price. The old businessowner didn’t bat an eye. He only cared about his employee’s welfare. Two months after the sale I learned that the elderly man died. It’s the only business decision in my career that I’ve ever truly regretted. Unlike all my other deals that dealt out death to my target, the owner was a good man and well respected. Everything was handled behind the scenes, and our names were kept confidential.

  A week later when Carson and I went to scope out the facility location, we stumbled upon Brea ranting and raving with our company attorneys. The southern belle was the only employee to raise hell. I remember her clearly now. She stood her ground with our corporate attorneys and tried to stand up for the greater cause. Fight the righteous fight for the elderly owners she loved and cared for so much.

  Captivated and enthralled by her I was, and totally confused by the effect she had on me. She was fierce, compassionate, and beyond fucking pissed. Much like things are now, I was intrigued and hung onto her every word. Carson picked up on it. Me being the dick that I am, I denied it. I thought I’d never see her again. For God's sake, it’s fucking New York. What were the chances?

  “I don’t understand why you’d hire her and place her in my god damn building. Are you trying to drive me insane, Carson? Is that it?” I seethe.

  “Don’t act like I’ve committed treason. She’s perfect for the damn job and qualified. Say what you want, but she fascinates you, asshole. I’ve never seen you like that before or after for that matter.” He flips his hand out as if to say deal with it. “Do what you should’ve done years ago and ask her out, Brogan.”

  “Fuck you, Carson.” I turn up my glass and kill the liquid as he laughs out loud. “Mark my words, this’ll end badly.” I point my finger at him.

  “Only if you fuck it up. Now tell me something… Why was Brea asking HR for a copy of our companies’ policies and procedures?” He asks with humor glinting on his facial features. I simply stare at this redhaired ass clown. “Right. We have no policies in place that prevents the employees from dating clients. Hell, we don’t have any policies against inner-office dating for that matter. But you already know that you, selfish prick. If you’re going to start making up rules that benefit you then we need to get with HR and lay that shit out. Just be careful not to cut your own throat.” He winks at me. I really hate that this little bastard calls me out like this.

  “That’s your department. Handle it.” Having the cushion and legal structure in place only covers the company as a whole. I live by my own set of rules though and Carson knows this.

  “I’ve got to run. I’ll have my PA set up the meeting for Monday with the CC Capitals crew.” Carson stands and heads back down the hallway. “She’s been dating Nate Nixon, asshole. Stop fucking around.” He says as he steps into the elevator. Motherfucker…

  Chapter 12

  Brogan

  Watching Brea from her fire escape is an all-time low for me. That is, if you don’t count all the other unannounced visits where I’ve found myself sitting outside her living room peering in over the past three weeks. I’ve never had the urge to go out of my way for anyone and damn sure never found myself lurking around their fire escape like a god damn corporate serial killer.

  My insane side is rearing its ugly head. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of dangerous territory, firing squad style. My control is slipping fast, and it all has to do with this woman that’s sprawled out on a furry rug watching Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, back to back.

  Long blonde wet locks of hair are fanned out and her freshly showered face is gorgeous. That make-up free look only seems to make her more attractive to me. Her cutoff sweatshirt and boy shorts show off her flat stomach and long toned legs. She’s naturally beautiful. I scrub my hand over my face and continue the motion through my hair. Fuck this.

  Passing through the weathered brick wall is easy enough. As soon as I enter her space a new plum fruity scent hits me and I inhale deeply. My body hums with awareness for everything that is her. The crazy fucking thing is she senses me too. Brea shoots up into a sitting position and looks around as if she detects my presence. Unseen but felt. I’m like the wind; transparent but causing a universal shift all around her. It’s eerie how her eyes start to follow my movements like she sees me clear as day. My invisible lips tip-up.

  Continuing through her front door, I scan the deserted hallway to make sure no one is about to witness my rebirth to the flesh form. People tend to get a little freaked the fuck out, understandably so. Chaos ensues if individuals can’t rationalize what their eyes take in.

  I knock on her door. Waiting through the multiple chains and deadbolt sounds one by one. When the door opens her beautiful blue lanterns light up in surprise that’s quickly replaced with disbelief that her boss is at her front door. That’s something we both have in common at the moment, denial.

  “Uhm, hey…” She rests her head against the doorframe. “Brogan, what are you doing here? Or better yet, how did cha know where I live?” Her body is leaning into the door reluctant to allow me access into her cozy loft.

  I tilt my head and concentrate on barricading her personal thoughts out. I want her to give those up to me willingly. Taking those from her doesn’t seem right anymore. Why I feel this way ma
kes no sense to me at all. Hell, I just walked through her house uninvited. I’m losing my shit.

  “A personnel file would be an easy assumption, but I have my ways, Brealyn.” I give her a sideways smirk. “Can I come in?” I quirk my brow at her. She takes a step back and opens her door while motioning me in with her hand.

  “Sure. Is everything okay or do you make it a habit to drop in for a visit with all your employees?” Her face scrunches up and she studies me. I don’t need to read her mind to know she’s probably screaming, What the ever-bee-loving heck?

  “Everything’s fine and no. Other than Carson and Geneva, you’re the first house-call.” I trudge deeper into her loft and take my time this go around scoping out her personal space as an unexpected but welcomed guest. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened at The Plaza.” And hopefully, fuck you out of my system lady.

  “With the ex-girlfriend?” She lets out a giggle. This woman comes with jokes.

  “There was that too but no. And Cassia was never my girlfriend. Nor will she ever be.” I say.

  I turn my attention away from the pictures of what I suspect to be her grandparents. She’s wringing her hands together and I know she’s nervous. I shrug out of my trench coat and toss it on one of her bar stools.

  “Nice place.” It fits her personality, warm and comforting.

  “Thank you. I’m sure you’re just being kind considering what your place must be like compared to mine.” She smiles shyly.

  “Cold and lifeless best describes it.” I deadpan. Her smiles falls right off her face.

  “Oh. I, well… I don’t know what to say to that.” She says. I shrug my shoulders.

  “Nothing to say, Brea. Just stating facts.”

  “Did you get everything taken care of in Atlanta?” She moves over to the couch and sits down then pats the cushion beside her as an invitation. Well, fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do.

  “I wasn’t in Atlanta,” I say as I lower myself down beside her.