by Lacey Black
My son. Ryan.
Chapter Two – Business As Usual
Reid
“Carly, can you come in here?”
The phone buzzes instantly with her reply. “Right away.”
My personal assistant, Carly, hurries through the heavy wooden door that separates her workspace from mine. She has been at my side for three years now, and honestly, she’s the best fucking assistant I’ve ever had. Hands down. She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty, stay late, or slap me upside the head when I need it. She works hard and is loyal to a T. She’s devoted to this company right alongside of me. The difference? She works eight hours. I work sixteen.
I was concerned about her having a young child, of course, but Carly does everything she can to ensure that she’s at work as much as possible. Her mother is very active in her life and helps as much as possible with Carly’s daughter, Natalia. And of course, I value her too much so whenever she needs time off here or there, I’m always willing to help her out. I’m not a complete bastard. At least not to her.
Of course, the dynamics of everything changed last fall when Carly reconnected with Nat’s father. Blake is an FBI agent who was going undercover when he met Carly. They shared one night together, which resulted in Natalia. Two years later, they found their lives twisted together tighter than a bread tie when he found himself undercover in a world to take down her father. It was a tangled mess. Total Days of Our Lives shit. But they’ve seemed to come out on the other side semi-unscathed. They’re getting married next month, and even though that shit isn’t for me, I’m truly happy for her.
“Yes, Mr. Hunter?” she asks as she takes the leather seat across from my expansive desk. Her pen and paper poised on her lap, ready to write down anything that I ask of her. I’ve tried to buy her a tablet to take notes on numerous occasions, but she won’t have it. She’d rather handwrite her notes and says she gets joy from flipping through the pages. I enjoy ruffling her feathers every now and then about it, though. I even went as far as to have a tablet delivered to her desk via courier after one stressful afternoon where she misplaced notes on the eve of an important meeting. I still smile inwardly when I think about her wrath practically busting through the wall that day like the Kool-Aid Man.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Reid?” I ask her. Another old argument.
“Don’t start, Reid.” I can’t help the corner of my lips turning upward ever so slightly at her snarly attitude.
“Cruz wants to meet tomorrow morning. I’m tired of him dragging his feet. Every time we get close, he starts renegotiating the terms. We’ve been working this deal for more than seven months now, and I’m done. Either we sign tomorrow or we walk.”
“Can I speak bluntly, Mr. Hunter?” Carly asks from across the desk. The thing is I already know what she’s going to say. She’s been opposed to this deal since it was presented last fall.
“You’re going to anyway, so get on with it.” My tone is clipped, I know it. I can’t help it. Even as my little sister’s best friend, I still keep Carly and anything else personal separate from business. Carly has made her opinion of the Cruz deal very clear. She hates it. She hates the fact that I’ve considered this deal, and even more so that I’m probably going to sign.
“Don’t do it. Don’t sign those papers. Just walk away from this one. You don’t need Bravado Resorts. I know this would fit into your plan for world domination, but it’s not right, and you know it.” Her face is hard, yet so full of concern. Concerned for me as her boss, sure, but also as her friend. Over the last three years, we’ve worked side by side. We’ve developed a friendship that goes beyond employee and employer. She cares about me the way I’ve come to care about her. I will always protect her the way a brother would protect his sister.
“Carly, I appreciate your concern, really. But I’ve had months to think about this deal. It’s perfect for my life.”
“It’s all wrong for your life,” she whispers. The look of sadness completely transforms her beautiful face. Carly is a very beautiful woman with dark, exotic features. With long black hair and dark chocolate eyes, Carly is a walking fantasy. You’d have to be blind not to see it. But that’s not how I see her. Since the day my little sister, Tara, brought her home, I’ve wanted to help her, protect her. Besides my right hand man, Jon, and Steven, she’s probably the closest person I have to a friend. I don’t need friends. Friends always want something in return. Acquaintances: that’s what I have.
Carly’s incredibly gorgeous, yes, but she’s also caring and sweet and wears her heart on her sleeve. She reminds me of one other woman. A woman from my past that I have to occasionally push to the far recesses of my mind.
“Duly noted. Call Cruz’s office and set up the meeting. I want it here. I’m not going to his office or to another luncheon. I want it on my terms, in my terrain. If he bitches, cancel the whole thing. Make it clear that this is his last choice. He sought me out to purchase his company, not the other way around. I’ve already spent more man-hours on this deal that I’ve ever put into a contract, and I’ve reached my limit. This is his final chance. Tomorrow, we either sign or we walk.”
Carly writes furiously on her pad of paper. When she looks up, she gnaws on the end of her ink pen. Brown eyes search my face, and the intensity in her gaze leaves me feeling uneasy and undone. Like she can see everything deep inside that torments me, churning in my gut and robbing me of sleep. I guess if anyone can see it, it’s probably her. Though I do a damn good job at masking it from everyone else in my life, I’ve come to realize that I do a piss-poor job at hiding it from her.
Maybe I don’t want to.
“I’ll take care of it, Mr. Hunter,” Carly says. “Anything else?”
“That’ll be all for now. Have Jon bring in the final contract. He was supposed to get it from legal yesterday, and I have yet to see it.”
“He mentioned yesterday afternoon that it was supposed to be on his desk by five o’clock. I’ll check with him right away,” she says before standing up and heading towards the exit. “Oh, I delivered your tuxedo upstairs an hour ago.” With that, Carly leaves the office, shutting the heavy door behind her.
Silence fills my massive office space. Walking over to the glass wall facing the downtown business district of Las Vegas, I take in my impressive surroundings. Off in the distance, I spy the building that was supposed to become mine. The man who gave me my last name currently occupies the space, dictating and dominating everyone within his sights. Getting out from under his grip was one of my greatest accomplishments. Taking down one of his companies and watching him unravel under my hands was another.
Stepping back over to my desk, I get busy reviewing a new proposal from Jon. A small casino just off the strip is floundering, and Jon thinks it’s perfect for Hunter Enterprises. According to his proposal, Jon thinks we can get the property for a steal. It sits adjacent to a larger casino pulling a substantial profit. His plan is to purchase the older one for pennies, remove it from the lot with explosives, and sell off the lot. Mark the property high enough and dangle competition in the face of the adjacent property’s owner, and you have the recipe for a multi-million dollar deal with a lucrative bottom line.
A hard knock sounds at the door. I don’t even look up as I wait for my right hand man to enter. There’s only one person that Carly allows into my office without an announcement first. Jon walks into the room like he owns it before dropping a manila file folder on top of the papers I’ve been reading for the past ten minutes.
“Well, hello to you too, Jon,” I say with a clipped tone.
“Contracts for Bravado. Legal amended the hell out of it and went over it with a fine-toothed comb. They have assured me that every I is dotted and every T crossed. The last round of stipulations are outlined, as per your request. If he so much as breathes funny, we’ll slap him with a breach of contract so fast, he’ll have whiplash before he can even fucking think about moving money to an offshore account,” Jon
says as he plops down on the leather seat across from me. This is why he’s my right hand. He lives and breathes this company. He has questionable morals at times and a deep desire to better our bottom line. He’s also almost as ruthless as I am in business, and our joined deals are somewhat legendary in the small business world. Plus, he’s one of the only men I’ll ever trust with everything I have.
“Did you review them?” I ask without raising my eyes.
“You know I did,” he comments.
After a few minutes of silence while I skim the noted changes, I finally look up at my best friend since college. He sits casually with one leg propped up on his knee in an impeccable designer suit and imported Italian loafers. “Good work.”
“Tonight’s the fundraiser for the Children’s Museum, right?”
“Yeah,” I say before diving back into the contract. Every year I make a sizable donation to the Las Vegas Children’s Museum. It’s a cause that is near and dear to my heart. It’s also something closed off so damn tight in my heart and mind that you’d need a pry bar and a big truck just to peek inside. Every year I go to this event. It’s the one I never miss.
“Who’s the hot date for tonight?” Jon asks with the hint of a cocky grin.
“No date,” I tell him. I never take a date to this particular fundraiser. I don’t want some plastic doll arm candy draped all over me like a cheap suit.
The package might be different with each woman, but they’re all the same on the inside: money-hungry socialites who are looking for that perfect piece of man willing to share their riches. Every one of them easy, offering to drop to their knees before the limo even pulls out of the parking lot.
I’ve enjoyed the hell out of plenty of willing women. A single date. That’s all they get. At the end of the night, after fucking away whatever weighs down my mind, I head home. Alone. That’s the way I want it, and that’s the way it will always be. I make it crystal clear at the beginning of the night what I’m offering. One night. Period.
The problem that I’ve discovered somewhat recently is that no amount of fucking really kills that ache in my chest. It only masks it for a little while, bringing me a temporary reprieve. It’s usually about the time I hit the car for the ride home that the loneliness and emptiness set in. That’s when the night starts to swallow me whole, leaving behind an empty pit of darkness. But I don’t fight it. It’s what I deserve.
Some women try to change me, sure. Plenty think that I’m controlled by my dick, not my head. While I might lose myself in their sweet bodies for a while, I always come back to my senses. The fact remains that I’m a cold-blooded asshole who only wants one thing from them. Then, I want them gone. End of story.
The thing I’ve discovered about women, especially the older I get, is that they don’t give a shit if you’re an asshole. As long as they think you have money to throw around and the dick to back-up your talk, they’ll throw themselves at you and say just about anything they think you want to hear; just as long as the checks keep coming. Even the ones who aren’t exactly single.
“What time is Cruz going to be here tomorrow?” Jon asks, snapping me out of my funk.
“Carly hasn’t confirmed the time yet. I want to meet with him first thing in the morning, but knowing him, he’ll put it off as long as he possibly can just to fuck with me some more.”
“So…you’re really going to go through with this deal? I mean, you’re sure this is what you want?” Jon asks, raising a well-manicured eyebrow up towards his dark hairline. He has been surprisingly quiet about this deal since the very beginning, so it pisses me off that he’s actually starting to grow a fucking conscience right before the deal is done.
“Yes.” I’m curt. There’s no other answer to give him. Except maybe no. If he were to ask me that question in the dark of night when I’m being strangled by the silence and sleep fails to find me. That’s when I’d actually consider telling him no.
“Well, I just want to make sure you’re one-hundred percent in this thing. There’s no room for half-assed when it comes to this deal, Reid.” Jon starts to stand up, bringing his full six-foot height towering before me. It’s an intimidation tactic we’ve both used since we were old enough to use our height in our favor. But Jon’s stature does anything but intimidate me. Especially when I’m a good three inches taller than he is.
Standing up to face him, I answer, “I’m in. One-hundred percent.”
After staring at me for several heartbeats, he finally throws me that cocky smile. “Good.” Turning and heading towards the door, Jon throws a final, “Have a great time tonight,” over his shoulder before leaving my office.
My heartbeat has kicked up as I stare at the doorway my best friend just went through. Shit, my only friend. Even the guys I hung out with in college have moved on with their lives. Married, divorced, moved away for jobs, working seven days a week to support the lifestyle they’ve always wanted, it’s all part of the reason we’ve become estranged over the years. And that’s okay. It’s not like I have time for friends, anyway.
After confirming tomorrow’s meeting with Cruz, Carly headed out at about five-thirty. She was mumbling something about an appointment with the wedding venue for next month’s big day. It warms my heart to see her so damn happy. Even if that happiness is something I don’t want or need, I’m pleased that Carly has finally found her bliss.
At six-thirty, I head upstairs to the apartment I keep for late nights. Swiping the keycard in the private elevator in my office, I’m silent as the elevator sweeps me up to the floor above my office. Stepping inside, I can smell the stench of expensive perfume. My stomach instantly rolls with disgust. After firing off a quick text message to Carly to have the cleaning crew scrub down my apartment as soon as I leave tonight, I grab the glass decanter of scotch. Pouring two fingers into the tumbler, I relish in the feel of the burn as it slides down my throat. The welcomed pain reminds me that I’m alive.
Refilling my glass, I head into the only bedroom in the apartment. The stench of last night’s date still fills the room. Rebecca is the soon-to-be ex-wife of a business associate. Not only did I take his company from him, but I bedded his wife the weekend after I took the company that he’d spent a decade building. I say wife only because they haven’t finalized their divorce yet. Rebecca had been anxiously waiting for the moment we signed the papers so she could get her half of the 3.5 million dollars I just shelled out for the floundering casino.
Pushing the thought of Rebecca and the deal out of my mind, I strip down to jump in the shower. Taking another pull from the crystal glass, I walk naked into my bathroom. My phone dings with a text message, and I read Carly’s confirmation that the cleaning crew would arrive at eight o’clock tonight. Excellent.
Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed in the new tuxedo I had delivered for the fundraiser, and I’m ringing Steven to bring the car around. It’s a short drive to the Children’s Museum, one that I fill with sending more emails from my phone.
The limo pulls up in front of the massive building, and I put away my phone. Steven is at my door moments later and opens it. These fundraisers always draw a large crowd of local media and paparazzi. Celebrities and the rich and famous always show their faces at big fundraisers, dropping big money on over-priced vacations or exotic cars. The only reason they come out to these events is to be seen, not to support the charity at hand.
Jesus, when did I become so cynical? Oh, the answer would be always. I’ve always been this way. Well, except for one night…
Pushing that night out of my head, I flash my full-watt smile at the flashing cameras as I step inside the museum. The room is packed with high society. Designer dresses and custom made tuxedos are everywhere; it’s wall-to-wall money. A passing waiter offers me a glass of expensive champagne. The liquid courage is just what I need before diving deep into surrounding conversations of business and money.
After talking with several area business owners about their latest contracts to take over the wor
ld, I make my way over towards the silent auction tables. Spying a trip for two to the Caymans, I throw my name down on the sheet of paper with an obscene dollar amount next to it. It’ll be a great wedding gift for Carly and Blake. I know she’s talked about holding off on taking a honeymoon, saying that with Natalia being so young and the purchase of their new house, they both decided to wait on a big, expensive trip.
“Hello there, handsome,” I hear behind me in a seductive, sugary sweet voice moments before claws dig into the arm of my tux.
“Good evening, Gabrielle,” I say without a smile.
Gabrielle and I spent a night together a few months back. She was definitely one of the women who didn’t want me to leave. After begging me profusely to stay the night with her and her offering up every sexual favor known to man, and me still refusing, I’ve found her at several of the events I’ve attended since our night together. She always seems to appear right when I least expect it. Each time, I get that uneasy feeling in the pit of my gut that tells me our meeting is definitely not a coincidence.
“You look well,” I tell her automatically.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she leans in, offering me a cheek.
I cringe inwardly as I lean forward to place a peck on her cheek. Her perfume assaults my senses as my lips reach her skin. At the last possible second, Gabrielle turns, leaving my lips against hers. I fight the desire to push her off me; I’m in the middle of a room full of money and cameras. Instead, I keep my mouth closed, even though she clearly has every intention of deepening the kiss.
“Darling?” I hear behind me. Thankful for the save, I look up and see the son of one of Vegas’ largest casino owners. Broderick Flanders stands behind Gabrielle looking pissed as hell.
“Broderick, darling. I was just saying hello to a dear friend. You know Reid Hunter, right?” she says with a wicked smile. She’s playing her date like a fiddle as she strokes my arm up and down. Broderick’s eyes are instantly ablaze with heat as he watches her hand settle on my bicep.
