Grant

 

 

 

“Grant. Seriously? Are you on Tinder right now?”

Reagan Sherry leans over my shoulder, swatting the cell from my hands as I roll my eyes in subdued irritation and slide the device back into the pocket of my suit jacket.

“What does it matter if I am?” I smirk, crossing my ankle over my leg and drumming my fingers against the polished wood of my mahogany desk, “Are you jealous, Reags?”

The icy eyed woman shoots me a glare scathing enough to set fire to a field, “God, no. I pity all thousand of the women you’ve got under your thumb.”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair with my arms resting behind my head, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks!”

One of her ebony eyebrows quirks upwards, fierce and scary glare settling across her entire gorgeous face as the laughter dies on my lips with a clear of my throat.

 “So then, what were you saying, Ms. Sherry?”

“Oh, am I going to be lucky enough to have you pay attention now?”

A childhood friend, Reagan and I grew up together practically from birth. Our mothers were, and still remain, best friends. Our families have shared all major holidays, birthdays, and events. I’d always thought the girl was lovely, but now at twenty four she was absolutely stunning. And rich as hell thanks to her family - though not as wealthy as me. I took subtle pride in that. As beautiful as she is and as drop dead dashing as I know I am, there’d never been a sliver of sexual tension between us. Not that I hadn’t tried. She was immune to my charming wiles. She claimed it was my ego that was off putting. Ha!

At this point, we were may more siblings than we were even friends. I knew Reagan inside and out - which meant I knew exactly how to push every single one of her buttons. She probably went home every day regretting her agreement to work for my family’s company.

“You always have my attention, Reags.” I smirk, earning another of her patented eye rolls.

The woman sweeps her long, silky black hair over her shoulder, flicking through her phone’s calendar while I watch boredly.

“Some conference calls, that shareholder meeting… Oh, and you’re interviewing some candidates for the new receptionist position today.”

“Joy.” I grumble, sinking lower in my chair. Shareholder meetings would be the death of me. It was never anything productive, just a whole slew of grandpas telling me how to do my job, “Why can’t you do the interviews, Reagan? You’re the office manager here. At least take one of these scintillating tasks.”

“Bylaws say that the CEO has to interview all new hires, even just secretaries. You know how the shareholders feel about upholding bylaws. Plus, you’re twenty five now, you can handle some interviews!”

I don’t respond, tugging out my phone just as it goes off with a cheery ting. The shareholders clung to their outdated bylaws like a child to a melting popsicle.

“Grant.” Reagan frowns warningly, “Attention. Eyes on me. Focus! We’ve got to go over the resumes that we received for the secretary, I feel like you barely even looked at them.”

I nod at her absently, fingers dancing across the screen’s keyboard. Who even cares? It’s Just a receptionist spot. I just went through and picked out all the lady’s names that sounded the hottest. But Reagan Sherry is all business, all the time. Ugh.

Grant, party at 43rd. Sexy ladies. Down? The text reads, followed by a bunch of peach emojis.

Damn. How did Eli always put things like this together in such a short amount of time? The Australian branch manager of our corporation was only in town for a few weeks a year and always managed to find the hot spots in town. I’d lived here like all my life and didn’t know half the places he brought me to.

Be there in a sec.

I hit send, shoving the phone back into my pocket and pretending to pay attention to the blue eyed woman while I plot my escape from the dull drudgery of the office.

“Reags, I’m gonna go out for lunch.” I suddenly begin, jerking upright in my chair and grinning at her wolfishly.

 “It’s barely past seven in the morning…” The woman stares at me suspiciously, her red lips pursing with ire.

“Oh. Breakfast. I meant breakfast.”

All meals are basically the same if you consider liquor to be lunch.

“Your interviews begin at eight o’clock sharp, Grant. Understand? The meeting with the shareholders is immediately following.”

“Reagan, you sound more and more like a drill sergeant every day.” I sigh, collecting my coat and gliding it effortlessly it over my broad shoulders.

“It’s the only voice you respond to.” She shoots back, glaring at me as I start to head towards the doorway, “You know how angry the board is going to be if you miss another one of these old coots’ meetings, don’t you?”

I wave a dismissive hand, fixing the buttons of my tailored suit as I wait for the elevator.

My phone chimes again, a photo of a stunning woman in a sheer lace teddy smiling from Eli’s lap, her boobs practically hanging out from the tight fabric.

You’re missing all the action! He adds, sending another photo, this one of him beaming smugly beside the plump ass of a woman in a thong.

Groaning, I smash the elevator button again, foot tapping impatiently against the tile.

Reagan’s heels click against the floor as she leans against the doorway I’ve only just exited, her arms crossing over her ample chest.

“It’s Eli again, isn’t it?” She murmurs just as the doors before me finally glide apart, “You two have been trouble since the day you met.”

I lift my hand, waving her a goodbye as I step inside the elevator and doors shut between us, hiding the disappointment in the woman’s eyes.

Eli wasn’t trouble. He’d graduated top of our class in both high school and college. Regan was just being a drama queen again - and that was nothing new.

That guy was my best friend, he had been since he moved to the city from Sydney, Australia when I was twelve and Reagan was eleven. We’d been thick as thieves since that very day, there were four of us in those golden old days. We were each extremely close…until college, anyway.  Lots of things had changed then. Especially when I received the corporation from my father once I graduated so that he could retire. It only made sense to make Eli my right hand man overseas though Reagan, working as a secretary back then, made no secret of her disapproval. It was her own father that now led my board of shareholders. He was just as relentless and frosty as his daughter.

I step from the elevator out onto the main floor, inhaling the crisp scent of scones and fresh brewed coffee from the tiny branch of a local coffee place I’d allowed to take residence on the lowest floor of the building. It drew in some foot traffic and clients appreciated the branding when they entered. It’d only been a few years since I’d taken over the business from my father, and already our profits had doubled. The shareholders still weren’t impressed, however. A bunch of old men with grey hair and cataracts in their eyes, nothing I did made them happy. Ever. To them, I was a reckless wild card. Which, while true and mostly flattering, didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of skyrocketing our fortune.

But they didn’t see that.

All they saw was tabloid covers of me in clubs with Eli, dancing and drinking and enjoying our twenties. As if they hadn’t misbehaved a little when they could still stand up straight.

“Morning, Mr. Price!” The college student behind the coffee counter giggles as I pass her, her bobbing ponytail tucked behind her caramel colored visor, “Do you want your usual today?” Her voice is shrill and excited, her face flushing at just the sight of me. I’m used to this reaction. Can’t blame women for appreciating the Adonis that I am after all.

“No thanks.” I wink, a blush bursting over the apples of her cheeks, “But I’ll swing back by later, Elise.”

“It’s Lisa…” She corrects with a stammer, “And I work ‘til 4.” The girl adds, clutching the edge of the counter, “Do you think you’ll be back by then?”

I don’t answer though I feel her stare blazing into my back. Smoothing my hands over my tie, I step outside and head towards my waiting Ferrari in the parking lot. It’s not a far walk, I’ve got the closest reserved spot available to the front of the building. I don’t have to look up at the tall windows of the building to know that Reagan is staring down at me from my penthouse office, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. She’d become a lot less fun since our wild college days.

I slide my keys from my pocket, clicking the fob as my car chirps to unlock. It’s only then that I actually bother to look up at the candy apple red convertible BMW.

Fucking hell!

Two cars, both whom I recognize instantly, have blocked me into my spot. I whirl, pointing my middle finger up towards my window where Reagan is probably no longer shaking her head but roaring with laughter. There was no way she didn’t know that the shareholders would have blocked me in to prevent me from leaving.

Apparently, they underestimated my resourcefulness, however.

43rd street was only a few blocks away. It’d be nothing more than a nice summer stroll to me. If anything, not having a car was going to make me late to their boring meeting. And just whose fault would that be?

With an indignant shake of my head, I jam my keys back into my pocket and take off running down the street. I’d have to move quick if I didn’t want to miss one of Eli Nolan’s famous pop up parties.

My feet pounding against the pavement, my phone vibrates once more from my pocket. No doubt it was Eli rubbing some beautiful piece of ass in my face again.

If I didn’t get to the club quick, he was going to have dibs on every single hot woman in the place.

I glance down, scrabbling my hand into my pocket to draw out the cell when I suddenly clip the shoulder of a woman standing idly in the very center of the sidewalk. She stumbles to the side, cup of coffee in her hand spilling all the down the front of her cornflower blue blouse.

For a second she just stares down at the mess, then her furious brown eyes turn up to me, making my thoughts slam to an instant halt.

Whoever this was, she was damn gorgeous. Her full lips curve into a perfect pout, eyes shimmering in the morning light. Even the coffee stain didn’t seem to take away from how naturally pretty she was. It almost made me double think running off to meet Eli at the club.

“No…!” She gasps, her voice breathy perfection, “What the hell?”

Her eyes were so gorgeously irate, I knew it wasn’t quite the time to make a smooth move despite wanting so badly to find out if she was on Tinder. I’m too much of a gentleman for that. I hadn’t seen her on the app yet, there was no way we wouldn’t have matched. I wouldn’t even get mad at her for getting some of her coffee on my suit.

“That wasn’t my fault.” I shrug, suddenly feeling the phone vibrate fiercely once more, “You should learn to watch where you’re going.” If she wasn’t standing like a loon in the middle of the cement, this never would have happened. I was almost grateful she had though, so I could admire her for a moment.

“Where I’m going? You’re the one who shoved me!”

I grin at her, my feet taking me backwards. Unfortunately, I had to take my leave of the pretty woman, “Listen, I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere important to be!” I turned to run down the sidewalk, “I owe you a coffee!”

I like to think of myself as a chivalrous type of man, and had I not been in such a time crunch, I would have stopped to replace the coffee and her clothes. But there were already women waiting on me to arrive, and wouldn’t it just be the rudest thing not to indulge them? I was a man of my commitment, after all. As long as that commitment involved a dozen burlesque beauties.

As I ran, my strong legs easily pacing through block after block, I finally managed to retrieve my phone from the depths of my pocket and clutch it to my ear.

“Eli!” I spoke as the blond man answers the phone with his lazy Aussie drawl, my arms pumping to keep up my quick pace, “I’m on my way!”

“Ladies, did you hear that?” His laugh echoes through the club, music pulsing loudly over his voice, “The Grant Price is going to be here any minute!”

A light gaggle of noise emanates from the phone, a few high pitched squeals and a giggle or two. I could already tell from the simple noise how hot the group is. This was Eli’s forte. Not only was he a skilled businessman, but he was adept at seeking out the finest women of any town, county, and country. When I’d visited him in Sydney for the grand opening of our branch there, he’d organized an entire party of the sexiest models in the city. It’d been a week long rager of flowing booze, light drugs, and hardcore sex. I could barely remember the week now, but my body had been sore for a month.

Back then, there’d been nothing that made me happier than a huge blowout. Not much has changed, I suppose. It takes more now, to make me feel as excited and content as I had back then. Maybe it was an age thing?

I finally burst into the dimly lit club where Eli sits like a king on a throne of writhing, flawless bodies. He takes a long drag from his cigar, beaming at me. His shirt is unbuttoned, a woman at his side stroking up and down his chest as she gazes at him adoringly. I can tell by his mussed hair that he’s already enjoyed himself quite fitfully with the women.

There must be at least a dozen women in the club, all dancing around him in various stages of undress. There are no other men, Eli has reserved the place for us and our pleasure alone.

As I stand by the entrance, a young redheaded woman approaches, her tight black leather corset barely containing her breasts.

“Hello, Mr. Price.” She purrs, batting her long lashes. Her voice has that same softly husky edge as the woman on the street, and I’m shocked when her angry brown eyes spring up in the back of my mind.

The woman is perfect in every way, from her silicone tits to her long legs - and it barely makes me feel anything at all. She sweeps her hands across my chest, over the hollowness of my heart and around my neck to tangle in my hair. She grins, a Marilyn Monroe-like little mole on her upper lip.

“Call me Kitten.” She giggles, her hips rolling against mine as her head falls backwards, exposing the length of her neck. Her hair trails down her chest, curling lazily along the ample mounds of her breasts.

“Kitten, it’s nice to make your acquaintance.” I mutter, burying my face into the crook of her neck, seeking something, anything, that will make me feel the pleasure I once drew from this.

A voracious moan parts her lips as though the teeth grazing her collarbone had driven her ecstasy, though I find myself bored and uninspired by her forced pleasure.

When she lifts her head back up, she pushes me onto a chair, falling against my lap. Through the thin fabric of her thong, I can feel her heat mounting, desperate.

Kitten grabs my chin, tilting her face towards my own as I twist from her grasp, one hand on her ass while the other reaches towards Eli and the bottle of whiskey I know he has.

He groans in pleasure as two of the girls gyrate on his lap, passing me the alcohol so that he can run his hands through their hair.

“I don’t want to kiss you.” I mumble, tilting my head back to take a huge swallow of the burning whiskey. My eyes close, shutting out Kitten’s pout.

“That’s okay.” She whispers in my ear, “I can use my mouth for other things instead…”

With a giggle, she slides down from my lap, her knees hitting the floor, leaving me staring into the bottle of alcohol, as empty as my soul feels.