“Well, that’s not going to be easy,” I whisper, more to myself than to Laurel. The Equinox Tower is supposed to be the tallest building in the world, and Magnus managed to secure the contract for it—a $120 billion dollar contract. Yeah, $120 billion dollars, feel free to reread it. Aside from the legal implications, the city has also fallen in love with this playboy wannabe, and so taking him out is going to be an uphill struggle.
“No, it’s not going to be easy. And that’s exactly why I’m here. His last stunt at the Nailers’ stadium has caused a few of my fundraisers and people whose money I need to start questioning him and his methods, and now is the right time for us to make our move. If we manage to bar him from building the Equinox Tower, his business is going to be crippled … and he’ll have no choice but to fade away into nothingness.”
“Where do I fit into all this?” I ask Laurel, but it’s my mother who answers.
“Well, I rely on my fundraisers and high net worth individuals for the money to become governor,” Laurel says. “And we’re relying on you to show the world what they already know.”
“You’re the key to all this, Penny. You’re probably the best reporter I have, and we need you to do some digging on him. If we find something juicy enough, the public will turn against him and it’ll be a walk in the park for the city to pull his eligibility for all future contracts.”
“He has slept with a lot of women, so maybe this won’t be hard. Maybe a sexual harassment suit? That’d be enough to get the ball in our court. You’ll probably have to find a way into his personal life, and I know you probably don’t want to, but --” I don’t let Laurel finish her sentence, determination welling up to the surface and turning into sound as it climbs up my throat.
“Yes,” I simply say, looking from Laurel to my mother, “I’ll do it.” If they need my help to bury Magnus, they’ve come to the right person.
Now, there are two things you probably need to know about me, and I’m going to tell you what they are. The first one is, I hate Magnus with a passion. The second is that he’s my stepfather.
Yes, you read that right: Magnus Davion is my stepfather.
My father died when I was only three, and it took my mother long enough to find love again. I was over the moon when she told me she’d be remarrying. I was eighteen at the time, and I barely knew the kind of man she had decided to tango with. You see, even though their marriage didn’t last for long, he still managed to hurt her badly. The bastard cheated on her at every opportunity he had, making her life a living hell. He was lucky I was away for college at the time; I’d have kicked him in the balls so hard that he’d still be whimpering now.
So, yeah, if I’m offered a chance to make Magnus Davion feel all of the pain he caused my family and New York, there’s only one possible answer: a resounding yes.
“We’ll get him,” I tell both Laurel and my mother, a deep certainty making my heart pulse steadily.
I’m coming for you, Magnus.
4
Magnus
“Fuck, where is it?” I grumble under my breath, trying to find my boxer briefs. I know they’re somewhere in these sheets, but I can’t seem to—ah, here are the fuckers! Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I put on my boxers and then bend over to pick a pair of discarded jeans from the floor. I wriggle myself into them and then go around the bed, grabbing my phone from the bed stand.
Fuck, I overslept. It’s already 9:30, and I was supposed to meet my lawyer at 9. I’ll never hear the end of it now. Joyce is always harping about punctuality, and she lives and dies by it. That woman needs to get laid, that’s my two cents on the whole punctuality debate.
“Alright, ladies,” I say to the three naked woman sprawled on my bed, their curves calling to me. “This breaks my heart, but I gotta go.” One of them stirs in her sleep and rolls to the side, and I feel my cock twitch as I see her large tits coming into sight. My fingers twitch, and I’m already walking toward the bed when a moment of clarity suddenly grips me.
I’m late for the meeting, which means …
“No fucking pussy for breakfast,” I whisper regretfully, and make my way out of the bedroom, careful enough to shut the door softly. They might be strippers, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need a restful sleep. Especially after last night—I really fucked them to exhaustion. Maybe I should’ve brought one or two extra strippers home with me last night. At least that way I could’ve kept the party going for an hour more.