by May Sage
The Big Bad Office Wolf
Kings of the Tower
May Sage
May Sage © 2017
Edited by Lisa Bing and Sue Currin
Photography of Andrew by Wander Aguiar
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. The Rival
2. The Garments
3. The Circle
4. On The Way
5. One Night
6. Before the Storm
7. Decisions
8. The Wolf
9. The Club
10. The Ice Queen
11. Change of Plan
12. Lunchtime Tale
13. 180
14. Dinner
15. The Brother
16. Peace
17. In Action
18. Society
19. The First King
20. Vicky
21. The Tower
22. The Checklist
23. Anything
24. Maverick
Epilogue
25. Hotwife
Character Sheet
Deep Down The Rabbit Hole
Other work by May Sage
The Rival
Bryant wasn’t the kind of man who would misplace the responsibilities in order to exonerate himself of any sense of guilt when the shit hit the fan. That sounded too much like being a coward.
That said, realistically, everything that had occurred over the last year could be traced back to one single moment, one single sentence uttered by his older brother. Therefore, logically, the mess was entirely James’s fault.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” his brother said, catching him eyeing a pretty thing bent over a desk to turn her screen on. Then he’d even emphatically added, “Not that one.”
The whole thing was highly unusual. James had never presumed to have a say on whom Bryant chose to ogle, or fuck, for that matter. It would have been hypocritical, given the fact that he was just as much of a player.
Bryant lifted a brow, intrigued. If his brother had kept his mouth shut, he would more than likely have moved on, concentrating on the business they were discussing. She wasn’t the first attractive woman he saw in a professional setting, and, generally, Bryant ignored them. There was a time and a place for everything.
Today, he couldn’t just move on. James had said don’t, and that made it absolutely imperative that he must pay attention to the woman.
He looked again. This time, as she was smiling, chatting away with a colleague, he noticed that the woman wasn’t merely pretty. She had dark, almost black hair, that she wore down. The Hollywood-worthy hair cut, layered to complement her features, must have cost a fortune, and it was worth every single penny. It framed her face, and made soft waves past her shoulders. Her pearly skin was flawless, and delicate. Dark eyes, perky nose, gorgeous, gorgeous purple mouth.
Dark purple. Her choice of lipstick didn’t quite fit her otherwise classic look; it said edgy, daring. Two things Bryant had a hard time resisting.
Her body was made for sin. Her high heels, with their signature red sole, made her legs seem endless. She wore a gray, woolen high-waist dress suit, paired with a neck scarf. Professional to a tee, if it wasn’t for her shade of lipstick.
It shouldn’t have made him hard.
James groaned before pointing his index finger at him. “I’m not kidding, Bryant. Not. That. One.”
Had James actually planned to retain his interest, he couldn’t have done it any better.
“Tapping that?” Bryant asked casually.
James recoiled, looking quite sick at the thought, which made no sense whatsoever. She was perhaps a little young for his forty-eight-year-old brother, but older men had certainly fucked younger women.
“Ew. And, no. That’s Tori,” he said, as if that was an explanation.
For a beat, Bryant frowned, a little confused. Then, it hit him.
“This is Tori? As in, Victoria Brown?” And because that didn’t seem quite specific enough, he added, “As in, your goddaughter?”
A middle-aged man without a wife or any children – that he knew of – James had, understandably, always enthusiastically talked about his protégée. Being fifteen years James’ junior, and quite disinterested in a little kid he’d never seen, Bryant had long ago learned to tune him out when he recited the long list of deeds she’d added to her accomplishments.
If he was entirely honest, when he’d been younger, Bryant had even been a little jealous of the elusive Tori. Back in the day, his father had still been attempting to redefine the notion of midlife crisis, and his brother had altogether departed the continent, putting as much distance between them as he physically could, leaving Bryant alone. But James had been incessantly talking about a spoiled kid, instead of paying any mind to what Bryant was doing. So, yes, as a teenager, Bryant hadn’t been fond of Tori Brown.
That had been a long, long time ago, though. Before he’d learned just how much James had sacrificed for him. And before he had grown a hair on his chin. These last dozen years or so, he’d listened to tales of Tori with a complete lack of hostility, and with just as much interest.
Now he wished he could recall, for sure, whether she’d been doing yoga or gymnastics. Pointless question, really. Either meant she was quite flexible.
He crossed his legs, adjusting himself before reluctantly redirecting his attention to his brother.
“Tori. I’m surprised I haven’t met her yet.”
“That may possibly be because you never come to New York.”
That wasn’t actually accurate. He and his brother generally met up across the world, but Bryant had spent his fair share of time in this city. It wasn’t like he could get New York pizza anywhere else.
“And possibly because I didn’t want you to try anything with her. She isn’t that kind of girl.”
James’s jaw was set. Bryant didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. His brother knew exactly what he was into – he’d opened the doors of that world for him, and Bryant had never looked back. Still, he didn’t make every woman he screwed kneel for him. In fact, these days, it rarely happened.
Bryant smirked, amused by his brother’s protectiveness. “So says every father ever about their own daughters.” He just couldn’t help teasing him. Getting under James’ skin wasn’t usually that easy. “It always baffles me. I mean, wouldn’t a good father want his beloved child to have orgasms on tap?”
The poor man winced, holding his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t go there. You said you didn’t have a lot of time, and we have things to discuss.”
They did, unfortunately.
At long last, their father had given up the ghost. It could have been a sad affair, but, as the man had died of a heart attack, his face buried between the legs of a prostitute much, much younger than him, all they could do was clap their hands and have a toast.
Openly, anyway. Bryant knew he and his brother had been affected by James senior’s demise more than they liked to admit.
Senior had died unloved by either of his sons, and alone, in Amsterdam. And now, James was wondering whether he – whether they – were going down the same path. Hence why his brother was contemplating the ridiculously premature notion of retirement. And the considerably more ridiculous notion of making Bryant take his place at the head of his company.
There was no doubt that James was offering him the position because he knew Bryant needed a breather, an out from his own issues. His situation in London had become complicated, to say the least. Still…
“I’m a lawyer, James. I may have interned for you a lifetime ago, but I have no idea how to run a mar
keting agency.”
“You own your own firm; that means you can deal with employees. That’s the only thing that matters - my team are the best. The best account manager, consultants, designers. They can get clients, and keep them, too. They need a CEO, not another marketing expert.”
Bryant would have told him to get his board to appoint someone they trusted, if James’s business actually had a board, but his determined brother was the founder and sole owner of the business. Over the years, and regardless of how bad the market had been sometimes, he’d only accepted two investors: Bryant, and William Brown, Tori’s father, who’d passed away.
“How about her?” he asked, tilting his head left. “She owns twenty percent of the company. Your goddaughter has as much right as anyone to take your place. More than me: she actually works here.”
Bryant knew the answer before his brother even opened his mouth.
“She’s twenty-six. Has worked for us for three years. And yes, she’s the best goddamned coordinator in the whole firm, me included, but you know what they said when I employed her? ‘Nepotism.’ Then, when I took her from the mail room and made her an account manager, with a lower starting salary than any of theirs? ‘Maybe she’s screwing the boss.’ I need to give her a promotion, and it’s going to be bad. Practically everyone hates her on principle.”
“And they won’t hate your brother?”
James shrugged. “You don’t have a vagina.”
He sighed. Crude and unfair as it was, it was the world they all lived in. If the company’s image took a hit because they had the wrong CEO, they might as well sell out now.
Bryant wished he could tell James to fuck off. But he owed his brother. He owed him everything.
“Here are my terms: I’ll take a five-year contract. At the end of that contract, you’ll replace me. Ideally, with that woman, if her vagina has stopped being a liability for your company. But whoever the fuck you want.”
And, with a bit of luck, in five years he’d know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
The Garments
Tori found herself contemplating what had happened over the last year, and looking back, she had to conclude that everything was Lexi’s fault.
Lexi Taunton, one of the admin assistants at Croft Advertising, was indubitably the only person employed there who didn’t own a voodoo doll at Tori’s effigy. There were a few people who sent her fake smiles and occasionally tagged her on kitten videos, but Tori was too smart to pretend she didn’t realize they all talked behind her back. Lexi didn’t, though. She’d been epically awesome from the start.
“I’m a pretty, blonde, ex-cheerleader, and you’re the career gal. No one else will ever like us, so we may as well stick together, honey.”
Tori loved the smart mouth her friend only made use of when no one else was within hearing range. So, when Lexi asked her to tag along on her shopping trip that lunch break, she hadn’t hesitated.
The boss was throwing a party to celebrate their successful quarter; Lexi, as a new recruit, had never attended one of these in the past. She wanted Tori’s opinion on what to wear, and Tori preferred sitting outside fitting rooms than trying to ignore her co-workers’ glares and whispers in the break room for an hour.
The animosity was at an all-time high these days. She’d just received a well-deserved, and perhaps overdue, promotion. Instead of saying ‘well done’, her colleagues had acted like she’d admitted to shooting cute little ducklings and kittens for fun. Cowardly as it may seem, she really needed a minute outside of the building.
Tori was pretty certain that her descent to hell had started in the changing room of a department store, when she helped the assistant unzip the dress she was trying out.
“Wow!”
Tori liked sausages as much as the next heterosexual girl, and lady bits didn’t do it for her at all, but her jaw still dropped, because, damn. The reserved, and lively, petite blonde was hot underneath her business casual.
“You’re going on a date later, or something?”
Lexi was wearing lingerie; sexy, edgy pieces of cloth strategically placed to hide her sensitive flesh, but most of the fabric was cut off, showing plenty of smooth skin under some mesh.
“Mh?” Lexi asked, cluelessly. Following Tori’s gaze, she looked down at herself, and chuckled. “No, I just wear kick-ass stuff for me. You power-dress with those sharp suits, I start a layer down.” She smirked. “Makes me feel powerful, I guess.”
Tori sort of understood. She wore her clothes as armor; a new, sharp, severe suit said “I’m professional” like nothing else. When she’d first started in the firm, she’d made the mistake of dressing down. She’d been in admin, like Lexi, and staff who didn’t see clients were welcome to dress as simply as they liked. Bad move. Some – in other words, practically everyone – had taken it as an invitation to walk all over her. Get her to grab their dry cleaning, pay for their coffees off-site, and other basic bullying techniques borrowed from The Devil Wears Prada. She’d put a stop to it by becoming a cold bitch, calling them out on it right in front of everyone. If HR had gotten involved, at least a dozen asses would have gotten fired, and hers wouldn’t have been one of them.
Two years later, she still played the part of a ballbuster, and dressed for it, too. That would never make her win popularity contests, but it bought her some peace.
Still, it had never occurred to her to wear decadent pieces of underwear at work. That was the sort of thing reserved for…well, never, in her case.
Tori grumbled, “I prefer being comfortable,” which only served to amuse the assistant.
“Why people assume that expensive lingerie isn’t comfortable, I’ll never know.” Lexi turned around, entirely getting out of her dress. “The red was really too much, wasn’t it?”
Tori’s mouth still hung open, and Lexi’s smile showed she noticed.
“Sorry, err- yes. We can get away with the full length, high-split-on-the-leg combo at the Christmas party, though. It’s generally very glamourous. Which you’d know, as your department is planning it.”
Lexi sighed. “Like I’d get my paws on something half as interesting. I’m still fetching coffees and sorting mail.”
Tori winced. She knew the drill.
“There’s room for growth in the firm,” she assured her. “Every quarter, Croft Advertising has been in a position to expand – get a new team set up, open up a new department. They always try to hire from within, so put your name in the hat whenever something better opens up. You’ll get somewhere.”
Contrary to what everyone she worked with seemed to believe, that was exactly how she’d made her way up the ladder. She’d applied as an administrative assistant, despite the freshly printed business degree somewhere in her personal files at home. She was picked by HR, unbeknownst to her protective, slightly overbearing godfather, who’d been half amused, half pissed when he’d found out she’d gotten herself hired in his firm.
“It’s going to be harder for you here than it would be in any other company in the city,” he’d warned her. “I’m not going to hide you’re my favorite girl, because they’d find out and assume the worse. I’m not going to help you, but they’ll all still think I am. Whatever you achieve will be because you’re my goddaughter. It’s going to be an absolute nightmare.”
She’d nodded along cheerfully. Finally, James had sighed. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
She’d shrugged, and he’d let her go back to filing letters.
Years ago, James had watched her doodle some things on a corner of her notebook, and said she was talented. She hadn’t believed it, because, as much as she liked art, her teacher kept giving her Cs.
“I mean, I wouldn’t put this on a wall, but I like how you’ve showcased the shoes. The woman can be anyone; her face is irrelevant, her hair is interchangeable, but the shoes jump from the page. You’d do well in advertising.”
She’d never been able to put it out of her mind. A junio
r without much direction, she’d started to take marketing and business courses, until it had grown on her.
By the time she went through her final internship, she knew exactly where she wanted to work: Croft Advertising. The boutique firm was gold dust. There were older marketing companies, and bigger ones, too, but Croft won over ninety percent of the contracts they went after. They were it and she wanted in.
Lexi just laughed at her encouragements. “I like how everyone thinks we all want to have an impressive career. No offense, but I know how many hours you work. I’m good with doing my job for eight hours a day, going home, and having a life. I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something a little more interesting every now and then, but I’m happy to be an assistant.”
Tori contemplated her words, feeling a little inadequate. Lexi was right, she did pack an awful lot of hours of work in each week, and honestly didn’t have much of a life left. Once, perhaps twice a month, she met up with a bunch of friends, but that was about it.
Suddenly, she wondered how long it had been since she’d gotten laid.
Tori blinked, as the realization hit her. No. It couldn’t have been since Jimmy, just before graduation, right? Oh, god. Not that anyone could blame her; Jimmy-the-quick-shot and all his panting was enough to make any girl re-evaluate her life choice, and even contemplate taking the veil, but still! Three years…
She winced.
The assistant came out of the changing room wrapped in a shimmery, metallic V-neck dress; it had spaghetti straps crossing over her bust, and a pleated skirt that moved with each flip of her hips.
