Mason
"Good morning, Mr. Kane," my secretary smiles. I can tell she's hoping to engage me in a friendly back and forth conversation, but I'm not in the mood today.
"I need a coffee this morning, and I'll take it black," I say. I don't have time for small talk. I'm at work particularly early, 7 a.m. Too fucking early if you ask me, but there's a lot on my agenda.
First things first. It's early and I'd like to monitor the European fixed income markets. I also need to meet with a few visiting traders, strategists, and economists from visiting banks. In other words, it's a full fucking day. There's no rest for the King of Wall Street.
I walk toward the trading desk and I see her. Becca. The last time I saw her was at Lorna's house for dinner a week ago - back when I was a bachelor. She stood up and left me with a pair of balls bluer than the arctic. But the image of her right now stops me in my tracks. She's literally dressed to fucking kill.
What is it about a perfect pair of long legs and a tight, heart-shaped ass that makes men lose all rational ability? Because that agenda I just mentioned to you, Gorgeous? Well, I no longer give a fuck about any of it now that my cock is twitching in my pants. It's growing harder by the minute, and if I'm not careful, it's going to create an obscene tent.
Becca's bent over the trading desk and I can see every curve of her ass. She's talking to some broker who thinks he actually has a shot with her. The poor schmo is telling her about his latest market views, but he can't keep his eyes off of her tits. It's all so obvious. He's practically salivating.
My eyes travel down her tight skirt to her gorgeous legs. She's wearing a pair of silk stockings that have a seam traveling down the back, and on her feet are a pair of five-inch black leather heels. I can't help but want to grab those hips and part those legs.
I've never really noticed her like this before. Sure, we had one hot fuck session, and she teased me at dinner with Lorna at the same table … but now I seem to be hyper-aware of her body. Her presence sends an electric current down my spine.
I walk toward the trading desk.
"Mr. Kane, good morning," the broker says. I dismiss him and look right at Becca.
"I see you're here early."
"Yes, we were just going over market data," she smiles, and I'm not sure if it's my imagination but I swear she sticks her ass out a few inches closer to my cock.
I contemplate standing close enough to feel the heat of her body, to secretly press myself into her curves, but I hear a voice behind me.
"We need to talk."
It's Lorna. I swear, her timing is impeccable, isn't it?
"How can I help you this morning?" I ask. I'm hoping it's something simple so that she'll be on her way and I can quickly get rid of her.
"We need a set of investments," she demands.
"With who?"
"With Red Lion Aviation."
"Isn't that the airline company that has low safety ratings?"
She dodges the question and continues, "As Chief Counsel of this firm, I'm saying we need to invest in Red Lion Aviation bonds." Her tone is calculated and cold, and she speaks with finality.
"That's ridiculous," I say.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," she replies, giving me an icy glare.
"This is more than just an opinion," I say. "Market research doesn't lie. The numbers show that this isn't a viable company."
"Oh, you're certainly not one to talk about viable," she smirks.
"I'm not about to throw our investments down a drain," I say. "I care about the future of this company, and I'm not so sure the same can be said for you."
Lorna laughs, but it's not a good-humored laugh. It's vindictive and cold.
"You want to talk about smart, viable decision making?" she asks. "You should've started thinking about that before fucking that MarketWatch anchor on national television."
"Get off it, Lorna," I say. "That's over. I'm looking forward, not backward."
"I think you're forgetting something very important here. I am the largest shareholder in this company, and I determine where our investments go and don't go," she says, her cold blue eyes sparkling like broken glass.
I'm vaguely aware that Becca and the others on the trading floor are listening to every detail of our argument, but they're pretending to be busy. Now's not the time or place for Lorna and I to be arguing.
"Again, I'd consider your investment strategy if it was viable, but Red Lion Aviation is not. It's a joke, and I won't move forward with such an unreasonable plan of action," I say. For better or worse, I'm not backing down from this.
Lorna stares at me and she doesn't have to say another word because I can feel her wrath. I don't know what's going to happen, but there's no way I could move forward with such a bad investment in good consciousness.
I watch as she turns on her heels and leaves. Her steps are heavy and brisk.
I walk away from the trading floor as well and head into my office. I find my leather chair and sink into it. This morning isn't going as planned. It's gone up in flames and it's barely 8 a.m. I resist the urge to pull out the secret bottle of scotch that I have stashed in my desk drawer. I'd love one nice, long, warm pull from that bottle, but it's too early.
Knock, knock. I hear a soft tapping on my office door, and I wonder if it's Lorna back for more. I sit up straight in my chair and brace myself.
"Come in."
I immediately see that it's not Lorna; it's Becca. She steps in and closes the door behind her, quietly turning the lock. She's not saying anything, but she doesn't have to; her body language says it all.
My pulse leaps as she saunters toward me, her hips swaying like a gentle breeze. Again, I realize that I'd love to wrap my arms around those hips. Her steps are calculated, and she seems to almost glide into my office. I watch as her heels sink into the plush rug in the center of the room.
Her eyes are glazed.
She walks past my desk and to the windows behind me.
Reaching up, she closes the blinds.
My heart is pounding in my chest.
Maybe this morning isn't going to be so bad after all.