by D. M. Burns
It’s nothing short of a masterpiece and The House of Creed is reaping the benefits from that beautiful butterfly. I see why Carson had such a hardon for hiring her. Aside from the obvious outer shell of sexy she exudes, Brea is talented.
“As far as marketing goes for this deal, I only want to work with Brealyn Winters.”
My eyes roam to the far end of my redwood table where the baritone voice filtered from. That demand is tossed out from Logan Monroe. The one and only, Black Stallion. That’s what New York calls him anyway. Like me, he’s a ruthless little fucker and wicked good with the stock market. He’s no Wallstreet God but apparently, he aspires to be. I wish him luck with that because anything that draws the attention away from me, I applaud. The asshole looks directly at me and smiles. Little son-of-a-bitch has balls too.
From what I’ve learned about Logan, he’s a deviant little bastard and about three years younger than me. He’s got nightshade hair with electric green eyes coupled with an All-American pretty boy smile. He leads Highlight’s marketing adventures as a pastime but holds a fair number of shares in the company.
Drowning everyone else out, I tune in for his silent fuckery but get nothing. It doesn’t happen often that I drawback a mental blank from someone but it’s does happen. I tilt my head to the side and his smile only curves upward as he laughs under his breath. My jawline ticks and I get an overwhelming possessive feeling swirling in the pit of my gut. This kid better calm the fuck down. This is my war room of doom. My playground. My house.
Those pictures of me and Brea right before Christmas have been splashed all over the New York tabloids. The speculation of office romance has even been rumored about and topic of discussion for months now. This is something that I’m used to. Goes along with the territory. Paparazzi follow me around like a bitch dog in heat, waiting for the right moment to dry hump my tailored pants.
This assholes request is edging into my backyard though and he knows it. Hell, he’s delighting in the fact. My balls tingle in an angry way and I want to grab this pencil-dick up by his tie, bind him to one of the ceiling fans, then program it on high. He must still be feeling a certain type of way about those snapshots of his ex-girlfriend and I leaving BC Towers together a little over a year ago. How was I to know this bastard was her bedmate? Emphasis on the word was. Shit, I gave her back after that night without argument. There’s no need for revenge where that coat is concerned.
Lance and Carson turn to me expectantly and I quirk my brow at Logan with a chuckle. That demand has not one damn thing to do with business, no. He knows it. I know it. Leaning back into my cushy chair, I strum my fingers across the smooth redwood divider while eyeballing him from across the way.
“Miss. Winters is fairly new to the company, Mr. Monroe but I’ve already lined up Jacquelin Connors for the marketing aspect. She’s been with The House of Creed for many years and handles our foreign account dealings. Not to mention, she’s fluent in Mandarin.” Carson says.
“Am I speaking in Mandarin, Mr. Brooks?” Logan quips. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, but I want Miss. Winters. She’s the best in her field.” Carson’s face and neckline visibly turns a shade darker of red than his normal curious tint.
“We can possibly speak to Miss. Winters and toss the idea out there, but it’d be left up to her on whether or not she decides to take this account on. She’s a New York girl, a local. And the work that’d be needed for a deal such as this will require her presence in China for an undetermined amount of time.” Carson says.
“Accurately speaking, Miss. Winters is a Georgia peach.” Logan tosses out. “At any rate, that recent release for the Lockleer Horizon commercial and advertising had her signature written all over it. She produces spectacular work.”
“Yes, she’s incredibly talented. We’re lucky to have her on our team.” Lance says. His tone holds a note of hesitation and he gives me a side look. Yeah, I’m not the only one that’s picking up on Mr. Monroe’s obsessive vibe.
It’s fucking creepy that he knows personal details about Brea. It grates against my skin with a sandpaper effect. I know something is off with this. Regardless of where she originates from, she won’t be going to China with this motherfucker or anyone else for that matter. She’s staying here with me-within arm’s length. I’ll see to that.
Logan’s smile is one of victory directed at me. It’s like he thinks I’d pimp my butterfly out for this contract. He’d be very fucking wrong. Lance adjusts his tie and I smirk condescendingly while turning my eyes to Wong Chen.
“This is a very pleasing deal to each person lining these seats at this table as well as both our companies. We all stand to prosper but make no mistake.” I turn my ice whites back to Logan then continue, “The House of Creed is not hurting for business, no-no.” I tsk him. “Those are known facts. My partners and I call the shots here.” I tap my index finger into the wood a little harsher than necessary but I’m making a point. I want to drive it home. Like a stake in the middle of Logan’s chest. “You have no say with how we choose to run our daily operations, Mr. Monroe. Between you and I, if you want to blow this deal over past pleasures and endeavors then that’s on you.” I quirk my brow at him. He knows that I’m referring to the coat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I trust you can show yourself out.”
Lance and Carson both try to stifle their laughter. I stand and button my coat while moving for the door. “Gentlemen let me know when you're serious about making money together otherwise your wasting my time. Maybe when you decide to round back to us this deal will still be on the table; doubtful but stranger things have developed.”
I can hear Wong Chen spitting off his native tongue in the background. His Mandarin dialect sounds like deadly samurai swords cutting through the atmosphere. His tone is something that I don’t need a translator in order to interpret his hostility.
That’s one pissed off CEO and I wonder whether or not Mr. Monroe will have his prestigious position by the end of the day, not that he needs it or gives a shit. Little fucker almost makes bank like me from Wall Street. At any rate, blowing through a thirty-million-dollar deal would be enough for me to reevaluate someone’s position in my company. But hey, that’s just me, and that asshole Monroe is not on my payroll.
“Wait up, Bro…” Carson calls out once we’ve both cleared the hallway. But I keep my footfalls moving forward while motioning over my shoulders for him to follow me into my office.
Rounding my desk, I fall into my seat and scrub my palm over my jawline while eyeballing Carson. He shuts my door and banks his ass in one of my chairs. His jolly green eyeballs dance around with a great deal of excitement.
“Looks like the Black Stallion hasn’t forgotten or forgiven your little slip of the dick with his girl.” He laughs. “Bringing it in the boardroom was tacky though. Can you believe that guy?” Carson shakes his head.
“Of course, I can. Hell, I’d make that same request for Brea too. With or without a bruised ego hanging over a coat from over a year ago. But my demand and timing would’ve been after obtaining a signed contract in hand.” I smirk. “Fuck Monroe though. Him knowing that personal bullshit about Brea is disturbing to me. I want you to make sure that no matter what takes shape with that deal, that Monroe doesn’t get anywhere near her.” He nods his head while seemingly contemplating my words.
“Did you see her marketing masterpiece though?” He rubs his hands together in excitement.
“You know I did. There’s nothing that goes out for televised viewing that I don’t sign off on.” I shrug. What can I say? I’m a control freak.
“Right-right… One of us needs to tell her about Highlight and their interest in her work. If nothing else, out of respect for her position. Then we can talk her down from the task.” He says.
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. Brea’s not going anywhere. Just the thought of her being mildly interested makes my mind swirl with aggravation. That’s not happening so there’s no sense in discussing it with her.
> “Fine, that’s your call but let it be known that I think it’s the wrong one to make. Now, are you going to tell me why the other Creed brother has his hands in her pretend panty drawer?” He asks.
My eyes squint at Carson as I recall her cries the other night. The way she sobbed in Channing’s arms was a fucked for life moment. For her. For me. Even for that prick Channing. He was head underwater and he knew it. My fire escape view was shit but I was there all the same. At this point, I have zero shame. I rub my hand across my chest where it hurts the most, push out of my chair, and move my ass over to my view.
“Apparently, that asshole can see the future or so he says.” I look over my shoulder. “But I know for a fact that he can set it on fire and I’m speaking from experience.” Carson’s eyebrows go up into his hairline at that and I smirk. “So, file that knowledge away for future reference and stay out of his way, Car. No more house calls, yeah? I’m not sure what I’m dealing with yet.”
“We had a little chat, that’s all.” He chuckles. “Other than flame-throwing, does he have any other talents that you know of?” He asks.
“Besides the internal inferno, crystal ball, and brute strength like me, no.” I turn my gaze back out my window. “But that’s all I know for now.”
“Shit…” He sounds like he’s letting that turnover in his mind. “What’s his fixation with her though?” That shits easy.
“He loves her or at least he thinks he does.” I deadpan.
If I didn’t believe that shit, I wouldn’t speak those words into existence. But after seeing Channing the other night with Brea when she fell from grace and shattered into a million pieces in front of his face, even I can admit that the motherfucker cares. I press my palms into my eyes trying to rid myself of the memory when her body trembled out with violent sobs. I can hear her words. Every last fucking one of them echoing out in my head. Shit.
“And apparently that’s his future wife.” I turn around and tuck my hands into my pockets while gauging Carson's reaction. He looks almost as disturbed as he was a few weeks ago before he found out that the baby mama drama was a false baby bump alarm.
“The fuck you mean…?” He stumbles those words out while slowly rising from his chair with one eyebrow cocked.
“When Brea was at my penthouse before Christmas, she admitted to me that she had dreamt of my home before, reoccurring. Hell, she freaked out about it when she saw the place but when I touched her man… Fuck, I was able to see the shit scene through her eyes. Not only was Channing there, but a war gone wrong had taken place and, in the aftermath, laid her lifeless body between us covered in blood.”
“Shit… Okay…” He runs his hands through his hair and grips the back of his head. “That’s why you were passed out on the kitchen tile and showed up at the Sky Lounge on with that frigid bitch, huh?” I nod. “So what? That only means you can see her dreams, Bro.”
“When I confronted Channing, he said that was her future life with me… Death.” I shake my head and stare at my shoes. “But with him, she lives a full life, no restraints of pending death. No matchups with the Grim Reaper.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Carson shakes his head in aggravation. “Tell me you don’t believe that shit, Brogan.” He starts to pace the floor at a rate that’d have you believing his clown suit was on fire. “That’s really convenient for Channing, huh?”
“Carson, you have no idea what I saw. It was beyond sinister and the bad part about it was, that’s what she dreams about, man.” I growl.
“If that asshole was there too, then how the fuck do you know that it wasn’t him responsible for that dream scene?” He stops and throws his arms out at me. “Listen, you better pull your head out of your ass, Creed. Channing’s full of shit. Is it only me or are you missing the main factor in all of this?” I quirk my brow. “IT WAS JUST A GOD DAMN DREAM.” He shouts.
“Shit… Calm the fuck down, Carson.” I turn back to my windowed wall thinking that this is all the sharing taking place until he gets his dramatics under control. Or at least pops a Xanax. He acts just like a bitch sometimes. “You have no idea how bad I want that to be the case.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this, you keep up with the bullshit your pulling and the only thing that’s sure to perish is any chance you have with her. You’ll push her right into his arms. Something I’m sure he’s hoping for.” He chuckles.
“If you knew that your actions could possibly harm the one you care for, your telling me you’d be okay with that?” I grunt out. This is something I’d like to know.
“I think some shit is simply out of our control and much bigger than what your mind can comprehend, period. And honestly, even with the superhuman shared bullshit amongst you two brothers, no one can determine the shifts that lie ahead in the future or that of someone’s heart. You guys feel superior to God, but I promise you, you’re not. You’re playing into Channing’s games. Never thought I’d see the damn day where someone would be better at the brain game than you, Brogan.” He chuckles while turning around heading for the door. “After all the mega mogul deals you single-handedly concurred, the company you built from scratch, the assholes who’ve tried to take it from you, and failed; this is where you fall short?” He shakes his head and laughs humorlessly. “Fucking priceless shit, man.”
“What do you want me to do, Carson?” I whip around and spew my angry words out at him. He’s pissing me off.
“What you do best, you dick… Go after what you want. What you deserve, which happens to be her, and fucking claim it.” He turns back around to me with that leprechaun smirk firmly in place. “Because I can promise you this, Channing’s damn well not letting nothing get in his way, not even you.” He shakes his head and walks out of my office slamming the door behind him.
Never thought I’d find myself in Central Park but here I am. Casually moving at a relaxed paced and spying on my blonde-haired Marketing Director. She occupies a bench while staring off into the sunny landscape of thick trees and a spectator’s view of a few sprinting bodies as they coast by. Brea finds her way here sometimes when the weather permits and today is a beautiful day. The temperatures are still cold, but the sun has managed to make an appearance.
Leaning into a tree, I look down at my shoes then back to her. All the while, I’m thinking she needs to smile. She needs to breathe lightly. She needs to come to life again. She also needs to eat. It’s evident that she’s lost weight and that’s bothersome. She stays pretty much closed off in her office now. I don’t blame her. I hurt her and she’s trying to deal. Figuring out an even balance is a harsh design to draw, I know.
Earlier in the week, she collided with me as she was hustling out of the breakroom. It reminded me of a certain elevator incident between her and Cassia less the coffee tray, thank fuck. My case of blue balls is the last thing that needs to be doused with hot fucking liquids.
I placed both my hands on her shoulders to steady her and that only caused her to flinch upon contact. The thought that my touch does that to her now stings deep. A sad smile tipped her lips up as she whispered hello as well as an apology then slipped on by me to escape back into her office.
She wraps her hands around herself in an attempt to block out the wind. I miss her smile so damn much. Right now, I’d give my fortune to have it back. It’s time I help her out with that, and I know just how to accomplish it. Resting my head against the tree's body, I smile as I catch sight of a beautiful solid white butterfly fluttering its large wings around her upper body.
“Oh my God… You’re so beautiful.” I hear her whisper out in disbelief. Yeah, it is baby-your beautiful.
Brea instantly perks up as it lands on her shoulder, still framed. It’s like a long-lost friend taking a seat and anchoring in for a long-overdue catch-up session with her. When several smaller identical white butterflies swarm around her that smile becomes so bright that I can’t pass this opportunity up. I pull my phone out of my pocket capturing the only butterfly I’ve ever cared for,
her. My new screen saver for future programming.
When the butterfly on her shoulder moves to the tip of her nose, she’s smiling like the carefree country girl that I miss so damn badly. I’m transfixed until I catch sight of him walking her way. Prowling like a gangster predator. My eyes turn into demonic white slits tailored for destruction to a brother.
Channing’s trench coat, red scarf, and fitted business suit coupled with black gloves make him look like a beefed-up mobster on the hunt for a mark. My eyes scan back to Brea as the butterflies fly high into the sky and disappear. Her shoulders visibly deflate and that has me gritting my teeth.
Channing slides in beside Brea and bumps his shoulder into hers. The sad smile she gives him makes my insides delight in the action. It’s wrong to feel victorious knowing that bastard’s presence doesn’t bring her joy. Not the way mine would, no.
Channing’s eyes roam around the park in search of me no doubt. I decide it’s time to head out and turn around marching my ass back in the direction of BC Towers. Carson’s words come at me like missiles being fire from a deadly enemy, hitting the center of my chest with precise aim.
GO AFTER WHAT YOU WANT.
chapter 7
brealyn
“Come on, sunshine. Let me take you out for a celebration dinner.” Channing says as we move into my loft. “You deserve it for that marketing promo. That’s some fire ass skills.”
Giggling, I pull my coat off and drape it over my stool. When I turn to his friendly smiling face, I release a long-tired sigh. Stepping into my comfy friend zone that is this man, I frame his cheeks in my hands. Does he not see that we’re meant to be close friends, nothing more? I know he can’t really think that this is the only level of emotional feels between two people. That would be a sad ending within itself.
I’ll be the first one to tell him how very wrong that is. I know. Trying to describe the jump from cliffside feelings that take over your heart and consume the mind when you find your lifelong design makes anything less non-negotiable. I shake my head slowly from side to side knowing he deserves that and so much more. These mediocre and meaningless subpar feelings he thinks he has for me are nothing compared to the real love of his life that is sure to come his way eventually.
