Stroke of Midnight

by K. Webster

  Me: Good night.

  He doesn’t send me one hundred, he sends me five.

  Winston: Good night indeed, my darling girl.

  Me: Thank you. Oh, this is a freebie . . .

  I send him a selfie of just my face this time, my red tongue sticking out.

  He sends me five hundred more. It’s both thrilling and stressful all at once. I almost feel bad for taking this man’s money. Almost. I’m sure, at the end of this, I’ll hate his guts. It’d be harder if I weren’t so damn attracted to him. Something about him calls to me. I’m going to get myself in so deep with this fucked-up man.

  After I clean myself up, I find I’ve missed a text from him. I nearly choke on my tongue when I see the picture he sent. It’s him, in his bed, shirtless and eyelids heavy with fatigue. His usual perfect hair is messy, and his smile is genuine—not one of his predator grins.

  Before I think twice, I send him five hundred back.

  Winston: What was that for?

  Me: It’s a good pic.

  He doesn’t respond after that. I feel like maybe I messed up by sending him money. Or maybe crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to cross. At the end of the day, though, it’s probably for the best. It was a good couple of days, and I made more money than some people make in half a year.

  Tomorrow I’ll look for a real job.

  9

  Winston

  After my usual morning greetings, I stop at Deborah’s desk. Her lips are pursed, and her eyes gleam with frustration. A typical Monday at Halcyon. She flutters her fingers toward the all-glass enclosed conference room. I follow her movement, biting back a groan to see my baby brother sitting at the head of the table, spinning in the chair like a child.

  Fucking wonderful.

  “This won’t take long,” I growl. “Push back my eight-fifteen to nine.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I’ll deal with him.”

  Bypassing my office, I stalk over to the conference room and push open the door. It closes silently behind me. I walk over to the seat next to Perry and set my bag on top of the table.

  “You know you need to schedule your meetings,” I bite out, hoping to sting him with my icy words. “Some of us are busy bringing in the money for those who work feverishly to spend it.”

  His jaw clenches, and he crosses his arms over his chest. Outwardly, he’s a man. Hell, he can probably bench more than me these days, but inside he’s a brat. Perry might be twenty, but he’s still the oops baby who stole too much of Dad’s time when he had an empire to run.

  “I can contribute,” Perry argues. “When you start treating me like a part of this family.”

  “We’re not doing this here.” I crack my neck and stare at him with disdain. “What is the investment?”

  “It shouldn’t matter. It’s my money.” He scowls at me. “It doesn’t have to be this difficult every time, Winston.”

  “If it weren’t, you’d have bled your fund dry by the age of sixteen. There’s a reason Dad made me the executor of your trust fund. Because I can keep a leash on you.”

  “Fuck off,” he snaps. “Forget it. I’ll get a loan then.”

  At this, I laugh, cruel and mocking. “That’ll piss Mother off. Her sweet, golden child taking handouts. You know that’s a shitty idea.”

  “It’s not a handout. It’s a loan. Or, better yet, I’ll find investors.”

  “No one is going into business with a Constantine. We own them all already.”

  His eyes narrow. “Not all of them.”

  Sitting up in my chair, I thread my fingers together on the table and shoot him a murderous glare. “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  “Indulge me, brother. Tell me who you’d get into bed with for a few hundred grand.”

  “Lucian Morelli.”

  My teeth grind together. It’s one thing to taunt me, but it’s a whole other thing to throw out that fucking family name.

  “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve misspoken,” I growl, giving him an opportunity to backtrack. This is the one bridge no Constantine can ever cross, and him even bringing it up is a slap in the face.

  “Morelli has money, and if you won’t give me mine, I’ll borrow his until I turn of age.” Perry flashes me a triumphant grin that reminds me of Dad whenever he’d financially end an opponent in a brutal way.

  “You take one phone call with Lucian Morelli, and I will destroy you, Perry. Blood or not, you’ll be gone. I’ll ruin you in ways you’ll never recover from. Mother will hate you. Our siblings will hate you. You might as well marry that bastard, because you’ll be dead to the Constantine name.” I slam my fist down on the table, making him flinch. “Have you forgotten his father killed ours?”

  He lets out a huff. “Allegedly. There’s no proof. It was an accident. For all we know, it was one of Dad’s other enemies. Not every bad thing that comes our way comes from the . . .” He pauses, thinking twice about uttering their name again. “Them.”

  “You’ll get your five hundred grand by lunchtime.”

  He relaxes some. “I wasn’t really going to call him. I would never do that to Mother or to you. I know what they are. Really, Winston.” He gives me an earnest look. “I wouldn’t.”

  “I should hope not.” I rub at the tension on the back of my neck. “I work tirelessly like Dad did to keep this machine well-oiled and gushing money into our coffers. It’s insulting for you to run to the enemy at the first sign of distress. Loyalty is absolutely important in our world. You have much to learn.”

  “Then teach me, Winny.”

  I cringe at the name he used to call me when he was a toddler. The same name he took to calling me at fifteen years old just after Dad was killed, when he’d sob and ask why God would take his daddy away.

  “Winston,” I correct, unable to meet his sad stare.

  “Give me a job. Let me pull in a salary. I won’t have to bleed my trust fund so much.”

  I scoff at his words. “You want to work here? You quit college last year. You’re barely qualified for the mail room.”

  “Then let me work the mail room,” he grumbles. “I can work my way up.”

  “A Constantine doesn’t work the mail room,” I snap. “It’s embarrassing to our family name.”

  “There’s something I can do. Just let me.”

  “What about your business venture?” I demand. “Suddenly not so important?”

  “Not if I can work here.”

  I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this.

  “Associate economic intern,” I concede begrudgingly. “You’d have to work with Nate a lot, but I could involve you in some of my projects. It’s a paid internship for a year. I’ll write in the contract you’re not allowed to pursue any business ventures for the duration of the internship.”

  He grins, boyish and fucking goofy. “Seriously?”

  “I’ll only pay four hundred grand for the year.” I lift a brow, waiting for him to argue.

  Though he flinches slightly at the smaller amount, he doesn’t argue.

  “After the one-year internship, if you do a good job, we’ll offer you a senior economic analyst position that pays three times your internship salary.” I drum my fingers on the table. “Travel to London, Reykjavik, and Moscow will be required and expenses reimbursed. You’ll be given a company car budget of five hundred grand and your own company-approved secretary. Do we have a deal?”

  “Hell yeah!” He offers me his hand. “Thanks, Winny.”

  I shake his hand, irritated by the fact I’ve given this toddler a job. But it sure beats the alternative of him getting himself into trouble out of boredom, especially with the Morellis. At least by him working here, I can keep an eye on the reprobate.

  “Have Deborah call my tailor. Whoever you use, frankly sucks. If you work here, you have to look the part.” I rise from my seat and grab my bag. “Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t,” he vows.
>
  At least he seems to believe his words.

  It’s nearing five, and I’m agitated beyond words. Meeting after motherfucking meeting today, all of which I’ve had to lash out and threaten each person. I’m on edge and tense as hell. To make matters worse, Perry has popped into my office no less than fifty times to ask questions. I know Nate gets off on this shit. He enjoys the hell out of seeing me frazzled.

  I’m so over it.

  And I didn’t even get to play, not once today.

  My thoughts drift to Saturday night. I’d been surprised at how far Ash went with me. She may be a shitty maid, but she was born for this job. To please me. My dick twitches at the reminder of her riding my thigh and the way she whimpered when she came. I thought she needed space after that, especially after our argument afterward, but then she shocked me again by texting me.

  Now that I can take a fucking breather, I text her.

  Me: I want you to become my full-time house maid.

  Ash: Is that all?

  The sarcasm drips in her text, making me smile for the first time today.

  Me: Among other things. Name your price.

  Ash: Your place is immaculate, Win. You don’t need me.

  Me: Incorrect. I need you available at all times. We both know calling you a maid is a ruse and a way to get Harold off my back later when he discovers how much money I pay you.

  Ash: Harold sounds like a real hardass.

  Me: Most accountants are.

  Ash: You seriously want to pay me to hang out in your condo all day waiting for you to come home like a sugar baby?

  Me: When you talk dirty, my dick gets so fucking hard.

  Ash: Gross. I’m not talking dirty!

  Me: But you could, and I’d pay handsomely for it.

  Ash: I’m not in the mood today.

  Me: To talk dirty?

  Ash: To talk to you period.

  I smirk at her response. Testy.

  Me: Name your price so we can agree and move on.

  Ash: My bird comes with me.

  Her fucking what?

  Me: Is this teenage slang for your friend? Because I only want you.

  Ash: No, my friends all got scared off by the Terror Triplets. I’m talking about my bird. A real one. His name is Shrimp. He’s a good boy.

  This girl is serious.

  Me: Send me a picture. If I like it, I’ll pay you for it.

  Seconds later, she sends me a selfie with her and a goddamn pink bird. Her smile is broad and happy as she looks at it. Fuck me. I hate animals. But I don’t hate how pretty she is, and I certainly don’t hate that smile. I shoot her a hundred bucks.

  Me: Fine. Bird can come.

  Ash: His name is Shrimp.

  Me: Shrimp is welcome. Now let’s negotiate your salary.

  The dots move for a bit as she no doubt considers what her pay would be. When she replies, I’m confused by her answer.

  Ash: Fifteen an hour is what I made at FGM Services. I guess that will suffice since I’m not exactly the best maid.

  No wonder she didn’t do shit. I’d laugh in someone’s fucking face if they offered me fifteen an hour to clean. Fuck that.

  Me: Fifteen hundred a day, five days a week. I want you at my home from eight to five during the work week.

  Ash: WINSTON, NO!

  Me: I don’t hear that phrase often, little girl . . .

  Ash: You’re not paying me thirty grand a month to sit and play with my bird all day!

  I can imagine her plump lips parted in shock. It makes me want to rush to her place, kidnap her, and lock her away in my condo forever so I can keep that scandalized look on her face always.

  Me: Take it or leave it.

  Ash: Leave it. I’m not accepting those terms.

  Me: That’s just the base pay. All the “odd” jobs I’ll request of you are in addition to that salary.

  Ash: Why are you so difficult?

  Me: It’s really quite easy, Cinderelliott.

  Ash: Don’t call me that.

  Me: You’re about to become my maid. I think it’s fitting.

  Ash: You’re not Prince Charming, for the record.

  Me: No, I’m the villain in our story. Now accept my terms, woman.

  Ash: Can I leave Shrimp at night and on the weekends? I can come feed him and play with him. You can deduct that money from my pay.

  I frown at her strange request.

  Me: I’m not good with animals.

  My phone rings, and I lift a brow to see that she’s FaceTiming me. With a quick swipe, I accept the call, drinking in her young, pouty lips.

  “Please, Win. He doesn’t feel safe here.” Her brows scrunch, and she chews on her bottom lip as she awaits my answer.

  “I get to kiss you,” I offer. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it.” She beams at me, her hazel eyes lighting up. “Thank you!”

  We didn’t settle on a number, which means I get as many as I want.

  “Deal. I’ll watch the bird for you as long as I get to kiss you.”

  Someone knocks on my office door, making me scowl in frustration.

  “I’ll call you later to finish this discussion,” I vow. “I have a visitor.”

  “Bye.” She wriggles her fingers at me and then the screen goes blank.

  “Come in,” I bark out, seriously peeved at whoever interrupted me.

  If it’s Perry one more time . . .

  “Your panties are in a major wad today,” Nate says as he strolls in. “Care to share what’s eating you?”

  I lean back in my chair, glowering at him. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact you sent Perry in here a thousand goddamn times to annoy the shit out of me.”

  He barks out a laugh as he sits down in the chair across from me, making himself at home. “You hired him to intern. Interns must learn. It’s the way of the world, man.”

  “I’m regretting my decision, and it’s only been one day.”

  “Sounds like you need a night out. Let’s go for drinks. My treat.” His face quirks up in a devious grin. “We could show Perry what it means to be a real man.”

  At this, I scoff. “That shit isn’t learned after a day.”

  “No, but it’ll be funny to give him shit. Watch his face turn beet-red. When Deborah yelled at him earlier, he blushed so fucking hard.” He cackles. “Maybe he’s into older women.”

  I may dislike Perry most days, but I’m pissed that Deborah yelled at him. He’s a fucking Constantine. I’ll deal with her later.

  “Fine.” I pick up my laptop and shove it into my bag.

  “Fine? Seriously? I usually have to beg a little more to get you out.”

  “I just hired my maid full time and would like to celebrate with her. Let me know where we’re going, and I’ll meet you there.” I zip up my bag and lift a brow at him. “Stop staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.”

  “I mean, she’s hot as fuck, but since when do you fraternize with the help?”

  “When she’s not cleaning my place, she also works as my personal assistant.” A small lie, but one I’ll no doubt turn to truth soon.

  “Does she suck your dick too? Again, how do I get me one of those?”

  “No,” I grind out. “She doesn’t. I pay her to do a job, and she does it well.” To please me. That’s her job.

  “So sensitive today. You’re such a little bitch when you have to financially maim people. If you weren’t such a money hungry slut, I’d say you hate doing it.”

  “Bye, Nate. Send Deborah in on your way out. Tell Perry to wear something respectable.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.” He mock salutes. Fucking child is what he is. “I’ll text you the place later.”

  As soon as he leaves, I shoot a text to Ash.

  Me: I’ll pay you two thousand for every event, dinner, or meetup you attend with me. Clothes, shoes, and accessories are also included. Say yes, and I’ll see about hiring a personal shopper for you. Choose something short, tight, and sexy for ton
ight. I need your shoe size. I’ll be providing those.

  Ash: Slow your roll. How often are these events?

  Me: As needed. Tonight, you’re needed. Shoe size, woman.

  Ash: 7 and we have to drop Shrimp off at your place first.

  Me: I’ll send a car to pick you up and bring you to my condo. And if anyone asks, you’re my maid during the day and my personal assistant at night.

  Ash: This is going to get messy, Win.

  Me: Good thing I have a maid to clean it all up.

  Ash: What if I embarrass you?

  Me: I’m hoping for you to only embarrass yourself.

  Ash: Special requests at these events will cost you. Embarrassing me is a very special request.

  Me: All you have to do is name your price, Cinderelliott, and it’s yours. Be ready to head my way in an hour.

  After confirmation that she’ll do as requested, I finally give my secretary who’s standing primly by my door my attention.

  “We need to discuss the way you speak to a Constantine, Deborah,” I growl. “Shut the door.”

  The tears begin to fall before she even gets the door closed.

  They won’t work. I’m unaffected by tears. All that will get her out of trouble now is a heartfelt apology and a vow to never do it again. By the time I finish ripping her a new asshole with my vicious words, she’s docile and eager to show she’ll behave.

  “Oh,” I say before she scurries out of my office. “Hire me a personal shopper. I’ll need her to measure my new personal assistant. Make this your priority, and send them to my condo first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Deborah murmurs, her face splotchy from crying.

  “Good girl. Don’t disappoint me again.”

  She shakes her head in vehemence, sending more tears skating down. “Never again, sir.”

  10

  Ash

  “We’re totally doing this,” I tell Shrimp as I cap my matte-red lipstick. “I’m nervous, but this is for the best. You’ll be safe there. It’s quiet and huge. More space to fly.”