Seed of Sin (The House of Creed Book 2)

by D. M. Burns

  “Now, you’ve got my attention,” I say. He pours himself another brimming helping and downs that too. Holy shit. “Just know, if you get shitfaced, I won’t be carrying your hefty ass outta here.” I point my finger at him.

  “Whatever, asshole. I’ve already told you that alcohol has no influence on me unless I’m calm. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been anything but that since meeting you.” He scrubs his hand over his jaw.

  “I’m curious… What was I right about?” I ask.

  “Sunshine was never meant to be mine. Don’t get that confused though. I love that woman. I’ll beat your ass for that bright spot in this shit world should you fuck it up. It’s just, hell, I don’t know…” He shakes his head and I nod in agreement because I know where this is going. “Shit…” He tries to chuckle but even that’s an epic fail.

  Channing is really worked up and while he’s having a mental break, I think I’ll take advantage. I tap into his thoughts. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol that makes him unaware of my intrusion or the simple fact that he’s not opposed to me knowing these details. My smile grows wide and he flips me off.

  “Stay out of my head, you little prick.” He snarls.

  “Blue-eyes, huh? She refuses to answer your calls or open her door for ya.” My head falls back, and I bark out laughter that bounces off the walls around us.

  “Fuck off.” He growls while bartending his glass contents again. “Where did you buy a house at?” I point toward the TV behind him and he turns around to see the estate for himself. “Nice… Better get some security for sunshine.” He turns back to me.

  “You know I’ve got that handled. It’s not too far though. Movers will have everything sorted tomorrow.” I say. “I’ll text you the address and you can come out. She’ll be happy to see your ugly ass.”

  “You know what that crazy woman done?” He asks. It’s not really a question so much as it is a statement.

  “I suppose you mean, Tamera,” I say. He nods his head.

  “That batshit crazy she-demon doused my suitcases in itching powder the day we left Greece.” He shakes his head in aggravation. “Try wearing a pair of infected boxers with that shit laced up your ass-crack and not realize what the fuck until your sitting across town in a board meeting.” My chest erupts into laughter. “Shit’s not funny, you little prick. My balls are still stinging from digging my nails into the fucker for some type of relief.”

  “Well, I’m no expert in relationships but the offer of dusting off her vagina with some of that eleven inches of confident pussy therapy that was sure to fix her perpetual resting bitchface turning it into a joyful constant smile that beamed brighter than a fucking midnight star…” I arch my lonesome eyebrow at him then continue, “That might’ve been your downfall, player. I could be wrong though.” I shrug unaffected as I turn my drink up.

  “Yeah…” He laughs. “There was that.”

  “Or maybe it was after you tossed her into the pool,” I say.

  “She plowed my last cupcake into the back of my head.” He rolls his eyes and chuckles some more. “Tamera’s feisty.”

  Channing helps himself to another Macallan’s refill and I eyeball the almost empty bottle. Being the good brother that he is, he graciously fills my glass up with the remaining droplets left unconsumed. I should be pissed that he’s pretty much cleared the contents, but I can’t bring myself to be mad at him right now. His shit situation is bringing me a lot of joy.

  “Have you had any more insight that involves Brea?” I ask. Trying to school my facial features is a feat, so I look down into my glass. I can feel my jaw locking up as his silver holes study me.

  “No, nothing.” He kills his drink then sets his glass down pushing it back across the table. “You?” He asks. I look up at him and shake my head slowly no.

  “Her thoughts have become nothing more than whispers now. Or at least the ones that I can pick up on. I don’t know what the hell is going on. I’ve never had this happen before.” I admit.

  “Brother…” Channing’s voice is stern with that one word. Swear to Christ, if I didn’t know better, I’d believe my father was in the room. “It’ll work itself out.” He’s lying but I appreciate his willingness to go to hell on my behalf.

  “No wonder you suck as a corporate warlord. Your poker face is shit.” I deadpan.

  “Whatever, you prick.” He chuckles.

  I stand and pull my phone from my coat tapping out a quick message to Lincoln then send Channing the new address to the house. “Since you filtered through the boozes, I’m going to head out. I sent you our address. Let me know when you’re planning to come by and for my own comedic pleasure, I’ll get Brea to invite her girl over.”

  “See, this brother bullshit is working out just fine. Same time next week, yeah?” He smirks at me then claps his beefy arm across my shoulder. I shrug him off and move for the exit. He’s still an annoying bastard.

  chapter 27

  breayln

  Breaking the seal on my closed door at The House of Creed, I yawn an embarrassing long tired sigh as I step out into the hallway. It’s the kind of yawn that requires you to cover your mouth as to not offend anyone. I had forgotten how tiring moving was but that was three weeks ago. My body just hasn’t bounced back yet.

  Brogan had movers and hired help handle most of the task, but I’m particular. I was adamant about putting my things away myself. It wasn’t like I had a lot to begin with but what little I do have, I wanted to tackle that chore alone.

  The Creed Manor is what I call our home. It’s like one huge resort with an airy, bright, and beautifully built open floorplan. A better terminology would be a whimsical palace. The place is so big that I’ve still yet to venture through every room. I still can’t believe he purchased it for us.

  When I first took it in, my thoughts immediately concluded that he had purchased a fairytale castle. I waited for him to tell me how he planned to flip it or turn the purchase into a pot of gold. Then he brushed the words across my face that he had bought us a home and I was momentarily stunned. I wasn’t quick enough with a response though and he assumed I didn’t like it. I internally kicked myself snapping out of my shocked silence. (My thoughts were consumed with two people; him and I, being the only ones to enjoy such beauty.)

  Looking around, I notice that the workplace is eerily calm and dead for a Monday morning. Shrugging off the weird uneasy vibe I have, I move for the breakroom. I’m going to need coffee if I plan on making it through the day without curling up under my desk for a quick nap.

  Mindlessly, I go through the process of preparing my coffee then turn to make my way back to my cave for a possible nap only to fumble into a chest. My coffee slips over the side burning my hand and it doesn’t help matters when I jolt from the burning sensation. Losing my hold on the cup ends with a quick and steady catch from a capable hand saving my hot java and sparing the floor from a mess. My eyes bounce up to find a smirking black-headed massive body attached to my caffeine fix.

  “Jesus, Logan.” I look down at my partially scalded hand then turn to the faucet and run some cold water over my burning skin.

  “Shit, sorry Brealyn.” He comes up behind me. Looming over my shoulder like a dark shadow. A little to close for my comfort. I cut the water off snatching a napkin off the counter drying the access water away. “Let me see.”

  “I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.” I turn and find him standing so close that my breath catches.

  Logan reaches out and takes my hand ignoring my protest while inspecting the red angry color of my skin. The way his brow creases leads you to believe that he’s beating himself up for this little accident that played out. When he blows over the welp its instantly soothing, weird phenomenon that it is.

  “Intriguing.” His voice is barely heard.

  “I’m sorry…” My comment was meant to prompt him to repeat himself. Not an actual apology.

  He returns his eyes to mine and I note that up-close there a str
iking green. Almost the color of rare, sought-after, emerald Burmese gemstones with a moss green highlight effect. The pad of his thumb smooths over the place on my hand that incidentally no longer hurts but catches onto my engagement ring. Immediately, I’m reminded that he still hasn’t released me. I tug my hand away reluctantly. Why? I shouldn’t want him to touch me.

  “Uhm, well…” I whisper out. Why am I whispering? I can feel my heart hammering in my throat, and I grip my neck nervously. It’s like I’m afraid he’ll see the effect he has on me. I’d take a step back, but I’m boxed up against the counter already.

  “That was on me, my fault.” He offers up my un-spilt coffee cup and I giggle out of nervousness. “It’s only right that you devour what ails you.”

  The lure of his voice is what I’d imagine the devils whispered commands for evil doings to sound like. His cunning smile tells me that his statement is not solely directed at my cup of coffee. I nervously clear my throat.

  “What are you doing here?” I remember my conversation with Brogan and that puts me on edge.

  “You’ll have to ask your fiancé about that.” His eyes dart down to my ring then come back to me. “This boardroom conference was at his request. Ironically enough, he asked that I be here. When the Wallstreet God summons you, you show face.” He chuckles as if this is not a worry in the world for him before taking a much-needed step back.

  “Right… Uhm, okay… It was nice to see you again.” I move around him for the exit out of this weird run-in. This man simply stares at me like I’m a decadent five-star meal.

  “I look forward to the next time.” He states this like it’s already written out in the stars.

  “Sure… Take care, Logan,” I say.

  “You too, butterfly.” His voice is smooth in delivery. A sinful disguise.

  My head snaps back around to see his smile curve upward like a predator on the prowl. I don’t bother to stop as my hand around the coffee starts to tremble slightly. I turn my attention forward moving for the safety of my office. What the ever-loving heck?

  chapter 28

  Brogan

  Seated in the boardroom boss’s chair at the head of the table, my body prickles with excitement. It’s been a minute since I experienced this kind of adrenaline rush from evil corporate exploits, too long if you ask me. My fondness for the defeated look that takes over my adversaries’ facial expression and demeanor, is nothing short of a wicked sickness; I know. In my defense, this asshole asked for it.

  My smile tips the corners of my lips up as the Black Stallion himself trots in. His green goblin eyes squint when he realizes we’re alone. That’s right, you little shit. It’s just you and me. Maybe he’s feeling exactly how Brea felt when he tracked her down in here last week, cornered. The only difference being is that I’m actually on the hunt and I’ve got a lock on my target, kill shot.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Monroe.” I point toward the other end of my redwood divider. He’d be smart to keep a good distance between the two of us. It’s safer, for him that is, but it’s his call.

  The smile on his face is packed with pure amusement as he nods. It’s like he’s aware of the hell that I’m about to unearth. His thoughts are still silent unknowns bouncing about the sheetrock that closes us in. Is this guy some kind of freak of nature? I quirk my brow and he merely chuckles while pulling the chair out at the opposite end and drops down.

  “All of this for me…” Logan’s smug smile is a harassing sight that provokes my inside army of demons. It’s exactly the reaction he’s going for too.

  “Evidently, this is what you wanted, right? You’ve made it a point to infiltrate yourself here at The House of Creed even though you knew better.” I slide the envelope across the glossy red table, and it skids to a stop in front of his position. He eyeballs my surprise then looks back at me without bothering with the information inside.

  “This little show is not necessary.” He twirls his finger in the air. “Anything that brings you this much joy, besides the beautiful Brealyn, normally ends in a bloodbath.” He places both of his hands behind his head and leans back in the chair leisurely. Cocky little fucker.

  “It’d be wise of you to not mention my fiancé or go near her ever again.” I seethe.

  “I like you; you know that? I’ve always admired and looked up to you the most.” He chuckles. I tilt my head trying to get a hint for his mental riddles, still nothing. “Your follow-through is cutting edge and fatal, it’s inspiring.”

  “I’m pleased you feel that way because as of early this morning, I acquired Highlight Investments.” I shrug. “Or better yet, what is now known as Creed Investments. Adding it to my compiling list of corporate domination. I own ninety percent ownership with leading control for future decisions and I’ve made some changes. You’ll still collect a check for that ten percent you own. It’s not a horrible outcome, especially with the new management I have in place. Might want to hang on to those shares but just in case you want to sell, I’ve had an offer drawn up for you.” I nod toward the envelope then continue, “But your position has been dissolved. Now tell me, Black Stallion, do you still feel inspired?” I steeple my hands together and spear my ice whites at him.

  “Gotta be real honest here… The fact that you think I have one fuck to give about that mere distraction, tells me that you have no clue for whom you’re dealing with at all. Maybe I gave you too much credit, huh? At any rate, I need to reevaluate my priorities a bit.” He shrugs. “All you’ve managed to do was free my schedule up for more eventful shit. And I tend to get very god damn creative too. Afterall, my career path is that of creativity, right.” I don’t need to read his mind to know that his give a shit level for that career is below a zero. “Thanks for the one-on-one, yeah?”

  Logan stands from the chair, leaves the untouched folder on the table, and heads for the door only to stop right before stepping out. I shift in my chair trying to get a read on this kid. I lean my head against my index finger and wait for it.

  “By the way, I never got the opportunity to thank you for ridding me of that cunt coat a year ago.” He winks at me. “Hard to find a unique butterfly in this city, huh?” This motherfucker…

  When I push out of my chair he turns without another word, opens the door, and strolls out shoulder checking Damien as he strides in. Damien whips his head around staring a hole into Logan’s back. I look up at the ceiling and pray from some patience. I know damn well I’m going to need it. Damien turns his attention to me and smiles his playboy quality chicklets my way.

  “Hey, Bro… You got a minute?” Damien asks.

  Without giving me time to tell him to fuck off, he pulls the door closed behind him. Shit… I fall back down in my chair and assume the position with an expression of why the fuck not scrolled out across my forehead.

  Man, I hope like to hell he doesn’t arrange any more dicks on my lawn. That shit was embarrassing. I chuckle at his mindless chatter.

  The real joy I get is from looking at that nice permanent keepsake I drilled into his forehead. Something I know he sees every time he stares in the mirror at himself, which happens to be a lot with this vain asshole. It’s his daily reminder of respectful boundaries.

  “Damien.” I give him a chin lift and point toward the chair Logan just exited. Distance is a healthy course of action for him but pure Damien fashion, he presses forward coming to my side of the war room table. He pulls out a chair right next to me, and plops down.

  “Brogan, I’m not sure where I fell off the tracks with you but we go way back. You and the rest of the guys here are my family. I’d give my life for anyone of you and you know that. Or at least I hope you do.” Damien’s a dick but he means that shit. He rubs the back of his neck nervously as my ice cubes soak into him. “I’m sorry about crossing the line with Brea. I have nothing but the utmost respect for your relationship, period and I wish you two the best of luck.” He stands and finishes his speech by saying, “I hope to earn your friendship back. I miss ya, man
.” He turns and heads for the door.

  “Damien...” I call out as I scrub my face with the pad of my hand. He swivels around looking like a bubbled eyed puppy that’s lost his way home. “Fuck up again and I’m going to take us back to our college days. I’ll buy a shipment of dildos and have a crew superglue multiple decorative dicks to every square inch of your houses siding.” He laughs out loud but also knows that I’m one hundred percent fucking serious. I smirk while waving him out.

  Stepping through my office door, my eyes catch Brea’s outline as she stares out at my window view of JP Morgan. Her business attire is that of a black silk flimsy blouse, a white skirt that stops right below her knees, and sky-high black heels. This woman is fucking beautiful without effort but in this getup, she’s the Wallstreet God’s definition of a walking wet dream.

  Drifting her way like a paperclip to a magnet, I stop right behind her and gate my arms around her waist burying my nose into her long blonde hair. She smells like freshly made cherry pie mixed with fabric softener today. She slides her tiny hand over my jawline, and I press a kiss just below her ear where her strong pulse thumps out.

  “Brogan…” Her tone holds a question in it, so I grunt into her neck. “Please tell me that you didn’t do what I think you did to that man.” Shit… I know my latest purchase of Highlight has been televised and talked about. So, denying it is out but I can play stupid though and possibly buy me a little bit of time.

  “What man, Southern Comfort?” I breathe out across her neck and she turns in my arms eyeballing me with a colored reflection that reminds me of the deep blue raging sea. I run my fingers through my hair and give her a wicked smirk. “He asked for it, okay?”

  Brea closes her eyes for a moment and sighs audibly as if she’s trying to collect her patience in order to deal with me. My pulse picks up. Damn, this is not good. She steps around me heading for the door.