by Jenn Hype
It was still early, but Reed would most likely already be in, so I headed to the stairwell. The second level wasn’t as large as the first. It was an open space that had originally been used as an employee lounge. Now it was used entirely for surveillance. Yeah, Reed had his own floor. He needed it in order to have room for all his hundreds of computers, mostly for the ventilation. I rapped on the wall twice, wincing when a worn-out looking Reed looked over his shoulder at me.
“Dude, do you ever go home?”
He didn’t answer me, but he didn’t have to.
“It’s time, man.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t start this again, CJ. You know I work alone.”
I sighed. So fucking stubborn. I’d been trying to hire another techy to work with Reed but he’d resisted me every step of the way. Truth was, there was too much work for one person. Reed was going to work himself into an early grave if we didn’t hire someone to relieve him once in a while. Man already looked like death warmed over - twice.
“We’ll fight about this later. Right now I’m here to ask for your help.”
Reed spun around in his chair, giving me his full attention.
“I need someone to help me get rid of Blake.” I delivered the request with no amount of malice, yet Reed looked at me like I’d just asked him to help me bury a body.
“Hey man, you know I love working for you and all, but I don’t know about this. Sounds personal to me.”
I fought the urge to cross my arms. Going on the defensive wouldn’t help my case. “It is personal. It became personal the minute my mom became involved. This is my damn company, yet I was bullied into hiring someone against my will. I’m not looking to ruin her life. Hell, we can even find her another job so she doesn’t walk out the door without options.”
My skin bristled under Reed’s scrutiny. It was insulting that he appeared to be questioning whether or not I was lying. I was nothing if not moral, and while it was a little underhanded what I was asking him to help me do, it shouldn’t affect my integrity. After all, I was the victim here.
Finally, he nodded. “What’s the plan?”
At his agreement, I was shocked to feel the typical buzz of adrenaline I used to get in combat. I’d been running the business for so long, I forgot what it felt like to be out in the field. Determination and a little bit of excitement invigorated my tired mind.
That enthusiasm quickly deflated when I registered his question.
I frowned. “I don’t actually have one. I was hoping we could dig up something to use against her.”
“Like blackmail?” An eyebrow quirked in surprise.
“No, not fucking blackmail,” I bit out. “More like, find out what her pet peeves are and annoy the shit out of her until she’s had enough and quits on her own.”
Understanding dawned on his face. His smile made me want to punch him.
“Ah, I get it. You don’t want to piss off Momma Rose.”
I cursed and ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “See? That’s what I mean! Blake gives my mom a nickname, and all of a sudden everyone is referring to her as Momma Rose.”
Reed laughed, then choked it down when I glared at him.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
I hesitated, eyeing him warily before nodding for him to go ahead and ask.
“What is this about, really? I get that she was sort of pushed into your life, but shit happens that’s beyond our control all the time. I’ve never seen you worked up like this.”
My body sagged as I fell into a nearby chair. His question, while reasonable, still bordered on prying. Instead of feeling defensive like I normally would, I felt exhausted. Because the truth was - I had no idea what the hell my problem was.
Yesterday I’d hit my breaking point when I overheard Liam and Malcolm talking. They were done for the day and headed to meet Blake for dinner. At once I felt betrayed and jealous, neither of which made any sense. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something with the guys outside of work. They had no idea they were about to dine with my enemy. Yet the sting of betrayal remained, no matter how much I tried to lessen it with logic.
Truth was, even while I considered them two of my closest friends, they probably didn’t feel the same. The closeness between Malcolm and I had taken a hit when we joined different branches of the military, but mostly our falling out was my fault. I’d closed myself off from everyone, and even though I’d immediately offered Malcolm a job, it hadn’t done a damn thing for our friendship. He tried for months to get me to grab a beer after work or share a meal and catch up. Eventually he gave up. At the time I’d been grateful. Now I hated myself for being such an asshole to the man who’d been my best friend since second grade.
When Liam joined our team, he and Malcolm hit it off right away, making him my friend by proxy. I trusted Malcolm’s judgment, and Liam was so laid back it was hard not to like him. I’d never felt threatened by his presence, but suddenly his closeness with Malcolm was bothering me. Why? Somehow Blake’s uncanny ability to piss me off had unlocked some sort of vault where I’d unknowingly locked away all of my emotions. Thinking about my childhood buddy and his new partner in crime made me feel like a third wheel. Blake had reduced me to a thirteen-year-old girl, crying because her bestie had replaced her.
“For fuck’s sake.” I wiped my palm down my face. I needed to get my shit together.
Reed was still waiting for an answer, so I gave him the first excuse that came to mind.
“I’m just getting too fucking old for this shit. I found a grey hair this morning.”
Reed’s lips twitched.
“Fuck you. I’m not vain, but it’s a sad day when you find your first grey hair. And the worst part is it wasn’t on my head. I found that fucker when I was washing my junk.”
My lips were the ones twitching now as Reed’s head fell back and laughter exploded from his mouth.
I wanted to pluck that fucking hair out, but I didn’t have any tweezers (because I’m a man) and even if I had, I wasn’t about to go yanking out pubes. Just the thought made me cringe. How women waxed down there - and willingly - was beyond me.
When Reed’s laughter finally died down, I gave in to the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Reed shook his head. “Alright, old man. Get out of here so I can dig up some shit on your girl.”
I started to correct him. She wasn’t my girl. I didn’t want her to my employee, my neighbor, my anything. But most especially, I did not want her to be my girl.
The second I stepped out of the stairwell and onto the first level, something felt off. A few of my employees who spent more time around the office and did tasks that required more desk time had their own office, but everyone came and went so often that private spaces weren’t really necessary. I glanced at the watch on my wrist. Not quite eight yet, but at least a few men should have already arrived for the day. The quiet was odd, but not so unusual that I felt alarmed. If anything were off, Reed would have mentioned it.
I took the time to admire the place while I crossed the floor to my office.
Before I purchased the property, it had been a local financial institution. Being built in the early 1900s, the building had unique properties that were invaluable to me. Things like a vault with five-foot-thick concrete walls reinforced with steel rods and a metal door filled with copper alloy. In other words, practically impenetrable and impossible to break into.
The family who owned the building had specific requirements that most buyers couldn’t meet, so the prime piece of real estate had sat empty for nearly two decades. Having been passed down through multiple extremely wealthy generations, the owners weren’t interested in money; they were interested in reserving the integrity of the building. Most of their offers had come from new age restaurant owners looking to capitalize on the vintage aspects of the building, using the vault to create a unique ambi
ance, but that required more renovations than the owners could stomach.
I, on the other hand, had no desire to change a damn thing about the building. It was perfect as is. Of course, it had taken months of meetings, a dozen legal documents drafted by several overpaid lawyers for me to wear them down. The family I bought the building from were the first ones to tour it after I did the small changes necessary, and they were so thrilled I’d kept my promise to preserve the integrity of the structure, they became one of my first clients. In the end, they were instrumental in helping my business take off as quickly as it did, seeing as how they referred all their equally as wealthy friends to me for security.
Sitting in my chair, I booted up my computer. That niggling feeling of something not being right tugged at me again.
Hushed conversation just outside of my office drew my attention. By the time I reached my door, two of my men were retreating to the stairwell and turning left to go down. What sounded like several men yelling at once drifted up, only to be cut off as soon as the door to the stairs closed.
I jumped and ran after them. The second I swung the door to the basement open, I saw every single one of my employees shouting like they were cheering on an underground fight that they’d bet their life’s savings on. A few steps closer and I came face-to-face with a live reenactment of Fight Club. Everyone had formed a semi-circle, inside of which was Blake. Her hands were taped up, her feet bare. She wore tiny athletic shorts and a tight-fitted tank. Her hair was up in a ponytail that whipped back and forth every time she hopped from foot to foot.
Everything and everyone faded to the background. My mouth went dry as my eyes scanned over her toned shoulders, down her thin waist, stopping on her lean, muscled legs that flexed with every move. Blake worked out. A lot. Her entire body was tightly coiled; like a feral cat on the prowl. Both arms bent, her fists framed her face. One arm shot out in a jab. I followed it, seeing for the first time that there was someone in the circle with her. Liam dodged her fist, but just barely. She followed it up with an uppercut to the right side of his torso. He stumbled backwards, blowing out a harsh puff of air. Still bouncing on her feet, she waited for him to stop clutching his side and stand up straight before trying to land another shot. He blocked it with his hand, and they circled each other. A drop of sweat dripped down her temple and her lips were puffy from hiding a mouth guard.
It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen in my life.
My dick twitched to life and I was forced to readjust myself so everyone wouldn’t get an up close peek at the semi I was now sporting. From the corner of my eye, I saw one of my men doing the exact same thing. He wasn’t leering at Blake or being overly creepy, but I wanted to punch him in the face all the same. Something primal, possessive, took over. I had the distinct urge to stab every single man looking at her in the eyes before throwing a tarp over her head and hiding her from the world.
A guttural roar tore from my throat so loud it was heard over all the cheers and shouting. The room came to a standstill as everyone turned to look at me, though I only noticed from my periphery. My eyes were glued to the woman who was smiling widely and waving. Her black mouth guard covered her perfectly straight, bright white teeth. Some of her hair had fallen from her ponytail and was sticking to her slick skin. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck and chest, disappearing into the line of her cleavage. Not letting my eyes follow its trail was as painful as my still-growing erection.
The only thing keeping me from unleashing on her were the men still lingering in the room. Once everyone was gone though?
All bets were off.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BLAKE
“You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it.”
- Robin Williams
“Everybody out!”
Queue eye roll.
We’d of course expected CJ to find us at some point. The guys who didn’t know the reason for our gathering looked a little intimidated, but most everyone just rolled their eyes right along with me before filing out of the room one by one until CJ and I were alone. Part of me wanted to call out and beg them to come back. There was so much emotion roiling behind his dark blue eyes. The pit in my stomach and the ever-increasing feeling of dread tried to crawl up my throat, but I forced a smile and swallowed it back down.
Rose had warned me that first day not to fear CJ. At the time I’d thought she was a little crazy for even mentioning it. It never dawned on me to be physically afraid of CJ, even with how intimidating he could be. What Momma Rose seemed to have overlooked was the real danger that CJ posed - my rapidly growing attraction to him. Rose wanted me to keep screwing with him in an attempt to force out his emotions. I hadn’t considered just how much it might end up screwing with me.
Since the very first time I looked at him outside our apartments, he’d consumed my every thought. I’d gone to bed that first night trying to drum up ways to intentionally run into him. My first impression on him had sucked. (Understatement.) I wanted to make a better one. Initially I’d hoped to gain a friend, but the more I laid there picturing his strong body pressed against mine while his big hands trapped my wrists above my head, the dirtier my thoughts became.
The only way I’d been able to fall asleep was to give myself an orgasm while picturing his face. My body was still buzzing from all the very naughty things he’d done to me all night - even if just in my imagination - when I saw him that morning for my interview. Fear that he’d heard me call out his name while in the throws of an orgasm through our thin walls made my heart seize in my chest. the night before or somehow knew all the ways I’d violated his body in my dreams. When he didn’t call me out on it, my nerves settled just enough for me to act like an absolute lunatic. My behavior hadn’t gotten any better since.
Of course, it didn’t help that I was now intentionally riling him up - something I was growing more unhappy about by the day. My fantasies of him were vivid and sprung up during very inconvenient waking hours. The draw I felt to be near him was intense. When we were apart, my chest ached. When he was near, my lungs constricted. No matter the circumstance, I was suffering. I wanted him. Badly.
I honestly wondered how I would survive working with him on a daily basis. Especially when he was looking at me with heat in his eyes that, if I didn’t know better, I’d think was lust. Butterflies took flight in my stomach. And not the normal, sweet butterflies. These were some sort of mutant, kamikaze butterflies, all suicidal and possibly hopped up on speed. They didn’t flutter, they zipped back and forth at warped speed, like they were trying to barrel their way out by force.
He was dressed up again today, sans tie. The grey slacks fit his muscular thighs perfectly and the white button-up dress shirt tucked into a shiny, black belt stretched taut against his chest. I wanted to undo every button with my teeth, unbuckle his belt and slip my hand down his pants to find out what kind of sound he would make when I gripped his dick with my fist.
As he closed the distance between us, I mentally willed him to look down. My already tight tank top was damp with sweat, making it stick to my skin and the built-in bra put my nipples on full display. I wanted him to see the affect he had on me. I wanted to know I had the same on him. One glance at my chest would be proof enough. He’d see the goosebumps spreading across my skin and my nipples straining like they were reaching for him.
Not that I have freakishly long nipples or anything. My nipples are normal sized, not finger-like, I swear.
And that mental image was enough to snap me out of my lust-induced inner rambling.
“Hey, Mr. Jade,” I said cheerfully, thanking my lucky freaking stars that my voice hadn’t come out all breathy and porn star sounding. It killed me to address him so formally. He probably took it as sarcasm. Really, it was my one little compromise. He told me to call him Mr. Jade, and I was already antagonizing him in so many other ways, I figured it was the least I could do.
“What’s going on down here?”
I l
ooked around innocently and shrugged. “Nothing now.”
CJ was amused as ever - as in, not at all.
After more silence than was comfortable, I let out a huff and crossed my arms. “Fine. I mentioned yesterday in passing that I was a pretty good fighter. None of the guys believed me. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, so we decided to come in early so I could kick Liam’s ass. I’m sorry if you’re mad. I hoped since it wasn’t during work hours you wouldn’t care, though everyone did try to convince me that you would be pissed. So if you’re going to be angry with someone, be angry at me.”
“How do you know how to fight?”
I eyed CJ curiously. I’d expected yelling and maybe him threatening to fire me. Him being inquisitive wasn’t a reaction I’d prepared myself for.
“My dad was a cop. He’s retired now, but he always wanted my sister and I to be able to protect ourselves. He taught us some self-defense moves when we were younger. Michelle lost interest and moved on to girlier things, but I liked the adrenaline high so I took some classes. A little Krav Maga, a little boxing, nothing too crazy. If you put me in the ring with a real fighter, I’d totally wind up getting my ass kicked, but I can hold my own when put up against a novice. Or someone like Liam, who claims he isn’t holding back, but totally is.”
I winked and CJ’s eyes widened fractionally. Then he walked away. Well that was rude.
I thought that was the end of it, odd as the interaction had been. But then he surprised me, picking up one of the hand wraps sitting on a table to the side and started unraveling it. When he looked up and saw me watching, he smirked. Not a flirty smirk. No, this smirk had something devious behind it. It scared me as much as it turned me on.
