by D. M. Burns
At first, I think it’s Brogan, and my heart shifts. But as my eyes adjust to the lighting, I see that’s not the case. He’s turned in a sideways profile frame gazing off into the distance of my beautiful view that displays light snow and multiple buildings surrounded by light fog. He looks like he’s in deep thought before he swivels slightly to the side.
“Beautiful.” He states as a matter of fact. I slow blink in surprise thinking he’s talking about me but then he points out the window. A slight blush heats my face and I giggle.
“Good morning.” I smile brightly.
When my mystery visitor’s features come into a full-frontal focus, my heart rate triples in my chest. He’s pleasing to the eyes in a devastating way, familiar awareness sweeps in. His murky ink-black hair is groomed well and trimmed perfectly over his ears. The top layer is a little long and greased back.
His pupils look dilated like he just finished up with an eye-exam but the unique gunmetal silver edging around the black holes flare out. There’s a faint rustic red streak above his right ear but his hair is trimmed so closed that it could be the office lighting playing tricks on me. Mouthwatering in a glorified picturesque business appearance says it best for this beast of a man.
Trudging deeper into the room, I place my things down on the side table then pull my coat off. I walk over to the door and hang it up. When I turn back around, the side smirk he flashes my way is identical to Brogan. I instantly flinch. What the F?
“Uhmm, I’m Brealyn,” I advance forward and hold out my hand.
“Miss. Winters… I know who you are. It’s been a long-awaited pleasure.” He stands and walks around the front of my desk taking my hand then covering our connection with his other. It’s a more intimate gesture, personal. So very personal. “Channing Creed.” His voice is rough and dominating. Commanding in texture as it filters through my ears pinging around like a pinball machine.
My mouth hangs open and I just stare at this man. He’s taller and much larger than Brogan. That alone grabs your attention because Brogan is a large finely build machine, a work of art from the God’s above. I snap my mouth shut. Is he a cousin from out of town? Trying to determine how old this man is. Early thirties, maybe. Definitely not older than thirty-five. He still hasn’t let my hand go. Why is he still holding onto my hand? The tingles are working up my arm like a sudden transfusion of heated lava in my veins.
“Are you here to see Mr. Creed?” I wave my free hand out in confusion then continue, “Brogan Creed’s office is down the hall. I can show you if you’d like.” I go to step away but his hold on my hand tightens.
“There will be plenty of time for me to see my little baby brother.” He smiles wide.
Oh God, he’s Brogan’s older, massive, and sexy brother. I don’t remember ever hearing anything about Brogan having any siblings. I would’ve remembered this bit of information. Brogan hasn’t mentioned it either. Matter of fact, I recall reading that Brogan was an only child. Why is he in my office? Maybe this why I never heard back from Brogan after our date.
“Are we working on some type of marketing project for you, Mr. Creed?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side analyzing me. It’s scarily close to a mirror image of Brogan but there’s a devil's warning ringing out like a fire alarm in my head. I try to pull my hand away and he steps into me abruptly. Intrusive in movement.
“Please call me Channing. Soon, very soon, we’ll be working together, and I can’t think of anything I anticipate more, Miss. Winters.”
He lets go of my hand and subtly tucks my hair behind my ear. Any other time I’d offer a first name basis, but this feels dangerous, wrong. His feather-light touch on the shell of my ear has left behind a burning impression. I reach up and rub the spot.
“Ummm, okay. I’m sure it’ll be quite the experience.” My voice is barely noticeable. It’s easy to see that I’m intimidated by this man, completely. His vibe is venomous.
“That I can assure you is facts. One you’ll never forget.” He squints at me then continues, “Brealyn, you’re quite the beautiful creature. So much more than I imagined.”
“Uhmm, thank you,” I mumble.
Channing smirks then steps around me and I turn to watch his back as he exits my office. I’m rooted to the spot. Channing glances over his shoulder. In my tunnel vision view, he winks at me then continues his suited-up swagger down the hallway toward Brogan’s boardroom whistling a wicked tune. What the actual heck?
chapter 16
Brogan
When I enter through my side entrance, I saunter over to my desk, grab the remote, and click the TV to life then bump the mouse to power on my computer. As I watch the scroll at the bottom of my screen to see how my Wall Street bank account is fairing for the day, I reach over and tap at the buttons on my phone to buzz Brea.
Seeing her before the boardroom bloodbath introductions begin is the plan. It pisses me off that I didn’t get to see her yesterday, but an interesting stock tip was thrown my way. Research was needed because the IPO is steadily approaching. For those that don’t known, an IPO is an initial public offering.
To be honest, I’ve been trying to harness that hysterical urge that I have for her. Control is key. Just when the line connects Carson bounds through my door. I cut the call and focus on him with irritation lacing my features.
The asshole looks like he’s in need of a stiff drink. Considering its only eight in the morning this is a little concerning. He runs both of his hands through his frazzled red hair. It scarily resembles Penny the clown from that movie It.
“What the fuck? Bouncing through my door first thing in the morning is becoming a pattern for you.” I push off my desk and stand to my full height crossing my arms over my chest.
“God damnit. If you’d answer your phone when I call, you’d know what the hell is going on.” He moves in closer. “The CC Capitals crew is in the boardroom already.” I look down at my watch and nod.
“I was on the phone the entire ride here but that tends to happen Car when you schedule meetings. People show up. They’re early but they can wait.” I arch my brows at him.
“Dude… Who’s Channing Creed?” He throws his arms out at his sides as if that should tell me why he’s acting like a mental patient.
“Let’s bypass the twenty-one questions, Carson. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” I lean forward and growl the last part. I want to talk to Brea and this asshole is getting on my nerves.
“Man, this motherfucker says he’s your brother and he’s in the fucking boardroom with the CC Capitals crew.” He motions his hand out toward the door, damn dramatics. “He said fucking around with his legacy is something you definitely don’t want to pursue.”
I tilt my head and latch my hands behind my back. The actual fuck… My dad would’ve told me. There’s no fucking way.
“Is this some kind of god damn joke, Carson?” I ask.
“Does it look like I’m laughing, you dick?” He starts to pace the floor in front of my desk.
“Brother, huh? And let me guess, his legacy is Vick’s fucked for Forbes company. I’ve already played with that to the point of what’s leftover is nothing more than my unwanted and unfinished TV dinner special but it’s still mine.” I walk over to my view of JP Morgan and smile wide. “Vick’s phantom protégé in the flesh is supposedly none other than a long-lost brother, huh?” I chuckle. This is priceless shit right here.
“Yeah. Listen, Brogan, this guy looks just like you… Just more… More manic and menacing in nature. I didn’t think that shit was possible. Anyway, did you know about this guy?”
“Didn’t have the first clue. Sadly enough, I don’t give a fuck either. He won’t deter me.” I cross my arms over my chest. There’s more to this long-lost sibling bullshit. “Better question is; if he knew about me, which he obviously does, he knew this wouldn’t cut the edge off my efforts nor stop me. What does my brother from another mother really want?”
I watch Carson in the g
lass reflection as he swings his hands out again in exasperation. Damn. He needs to get laid or a nice stiff drink. Maybe a Xanax.
“Only one way to find out, right?” I turn around and face him. “Shall we?” I hold my hand out for us to exit the door.
“Should I get the other guys?” Carson asks. I slowly shake my head no.
We step out of my door and descend in the direction of my boardroom. But I hear her silently speak out to me. Blocking everyone out but this one bursts through, always.
Does he know his brother was lurking in my office this morning? Why didn’t he mention him? This is bad. I can feel it.
My eyes find Brea holding her doorframe up or maybe it’s the other way around. She looks worried and there’s no need for that. I wink at her and she visibly relaxes. I turn my focus back to the redwood doors in front of me as I push through to the other side. I allow the unsaid random whispers to seep in for a moment.
My eyes snap from face to face. Shit… He looks more intimidating in person. This was a bad idea. I didn’t want to come here in the first place. This guy is going to annihilate Channing. I hope I have a job after all is said and done. And even one lonesome blonde that came only to catch a glimpse of me in person says, sexy man suit. All background noises. I cut them off.
I’m fairly certain that wanting to kill the suspect brother that I’ve never even laid eyes on before is a bad god damn start. This relationship won’t be a healthy one. Brother dear has made some fatal mistakes today. The first was coming to The House of Creed. Seeking Brea out was his second but mortal mistake. No one fucks with her, she’s mine.
Training my eyes on the motherfucker seated in my throne, I feel my restraint slipping slightly. MY SEAT. The evil glint he’s sparing me confirms that he knows exactly what he’s doing too. He’s playing a dangerous game. Catching a glance at the twelve other skirts and pants that have accompanied him here warming the seats of my round table is also noted. But my attention is focused on the set of balls rubbing against MY fucking leather seat.
My Tree.
My Palace.
My Backyard.
My Stomping Ground.
I smirk and continue my methodical decent forward until I’m standing in front of a slightly older version of me, of my dad. No denying the family resemblance. Undoubtedly, he’s not fucking smarter or his ass wouldn’t be in my building running off at the mouth half-cocked. None the less, occupying my god damn boardroom chariot.
Well, well, Brogan… You’re almost as handsome as your older brother, me.
We share abilities, fucking great. The tick in my granite jaw is like a roller coaster moving up the highest hurdle, on a countdown for a devastating descent. I stare at this asshole debating my next move.
Send them out so I can tell you how things are going to be little bro. Or only one man will be getting a financial fucking today. And spoiler alert, it won’t be me.
This guy’s delusional but paint me fucking curious as to what he might have to say. “Excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. Give Mr. Creed and I, a moment. This won’t take long.” My voice is composed, boardroom boss style.
“Brogan…” Carson’s voice is uncertain. My head slowly turns to him and I nod. Carson files out behind the others and shuts the door behind him.
“Not the best first impression, huh?” Channing says.
I turn my ice-white eyes back to this DNA surprise. Now, I somewhat know how it feels to be on the Maury Show. You are not the brother. Anyone?... Anyone?... Fuck.
“You could’ve handled the initial introduction better.” I nod. “This won’t change CC Capitals' fate. Maybe we can do lunch afterward though. Fill in some blanks. Like, you know… Where the fuck you came from? Because what you want is obvious but also, not going happening.”
I try to scour his thoughts. What is this shit all about? Did he know our father? Did dad know about him? Why the fuck didn’t I know about this long-lost brother?
“That’ll do you no good. I can’t read you, just like you can’t read me.” He smirks and rises from my seat. The guy is a good six inches taller than me and much larger in bulk. “We can communicate silently. Of course, only what we choose to share amongst one another. But other than that, our thoughts are ours and on lockdown. Dear old dad didn’t teach you that, huh?” He asks.
Shit, I always wondered why I couldn’t read my dad. I chalked it up to him being more powerful than me or an ability that I simply didn’t possess. Sharing that or anything with this prick isn’t happening. My expression is schooled and remains blank.
“I’ve been studying you for quite some time now. You’re a ruthless little fucker. I’ll give you that. Hell, I’d even be proud of you, if you weren’t after what’s rightfully mine.” He paces the length of the tile floor casually talking in the scenery beyond the windows.
“Our dad built that company alongside Vick. Vick took that from him, and I’ll rectify that before I’m done.” I grit out. He whips around to face me.
“YOUR FATHER.” He sneers. He rakes his hand through his hair trying to reel his temper in and compose himself. Channing looks at me with empty holes and tsk me then continues, “He only provided the Seed Of Sin that made me little brother, then took the fuck off. Know the difference. Vengeance is not mine and if you haven’t noticed, Vick is dead. You took just about everything that man had before he died. Now, CC Capitals is mine.” I slowly shake my head and eyeball this literal bastard standing in front of me.
“Big brother you’re no match for me in the boardroom,” I smirk and tilt my head at him. Taking a step forward, I close the gap. “If you were, you would’ve stopped me when good ole Vick was getting that thorough financial ass pounding from yours truly before he went ten toes up. I’ll finish what I started and that company that my dad built will be Creed Capitals. This meeting today was only a formality.” I shrug. “Schematics that I view as a waste of my time.”
“Brogan, a part of my talents is having the ability to see the future. I’ve seen yours and I gotta tell ya…” He shakes his head and tsk me again before continuing, “It’s not favorable.” His demonic silver slits fill with humor and equal amounts of evil intent. “When shit goes down and I’m here to tell you, it damn sure will if you choose this route, just remember that I tried to reason with you.”
“Not that there will be one, but the next time you step into my boardroom, just remember…” I brush my hand across the back of my chair and pat the leather lining then continue, “You’re welcome to any other ass catcher in the room but this one right here. This is my fucking seat. The god damn boardroom boss. The Wallstreet God. Mine.”
“Tell me something…” He smirks. “Is Miss. Winters fair game? Or does she belong to the Wallstreet God too, hummm? Because I fully intend on helping myself to that. Did dear old dad teach you to share your toys like a good little brother?” He chuckles.
Without a second thought, I grab him by the back of the neck and drive his face into my fifty-eight-thousand-dollar table with superhuman strength. “How’s that for sharing?” I growl. There’s some brotherly love for you bro. My massive table cracks down the middle splitting it into two pieces then collapses creating one helluva crashing sound that is heard and felt throughout The House Of Creed.
He rights himself only for me to swing my arm out in a palm punching blow to the center of his chest launching that ass high into the air. My growl is of pure sadistic joy mixed with evil. His body collides into the cathedral wall where it meets in the crease of the ceiling's center with the impact of a mac truck.
The sheetrock crumbles and cracks down the middle where his back imprint is firmly dented into my boardroom. Fresh spider veins breakout across the drywall in various directions. A renewed artistic statement and approach is happening here. Might be the launch of a new up and coming design trend. He hits the floor with a deafening thud.
“Did you see that coming, brother? With that futuristic fundamental fucking foresight, you have and all.” I chuckle. “
I forgot to tell you that I work out, a lot. Minor details.” I casually saunter over to him as he tries to stand. He laughs out loud.
“Impressive you are. Gotta say that I’m a little jealous of the super-strength. But it looks like dear old dad forgot to teach you to respect your elders though.” He quirks his eyebrow in question as he stands.
“You get near her and I’ll show you some other shit that’s sure to impress the life right out of you.” My chest is rising and falling. The urge I have to kill this motherfucker is real. “That’s not a threat, Channing. It’s a god damn fact. Get out of my fucking building. Pack your god damn office up at CC Capitals because that’ll soon be my building too.”
The door swings open and his twelve suited up disciples rush in. They run over to their disheveled leader, but he waves them off. Other than sheetrock dust on his suit, the asshole is fine, for now. My fucks are not given. Carson comes barreling in with Lance, Brock, and Damien right behind him. They take their respective spots at my side.
“See you soon, little brother. But if I don’t see you before next week, have a Merry Christmas, yeah?” He rakes his hand through his hair, dusts off his shoulders, winks at me then turns for the door.
“Did he just call you brother?” Damien asks with eyes wide. “Damn, you guys do look alike. Son-of-a-bitch.”
“What the actual fuck happened to the table?” Lance asks. “And the fucking wall? What the hell, Brogan?”
“Holy shit, Geneva’s going to sling a rod.” Brock whistles out.
I follow behind the flock of assholes marching down my hallway and watchdog over them as Channing moves for the elevators. Brea startles as she comes out of her office, stopping abruptly to avoid a head-on collision into their entourage. Channing looks back at me and smirks.
He takes Brea’s hand and kisses it while stroking his thumb over her skin, winks at her then continues his exit. Motherfucker… My chest expels a growl and I find my footing moving forward to finish off the job I started. Brea’s eyes jerks to me, back to Channing, then back to me again.
