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Mr. President:A Billionaire & Virgin Fake Fiance Romance(216)



It remains to be seen whether any union     between Mr. Kane and his  critical Board members will have any affect on his image. However, one  thing has transpired already, and that is undeniable.

"People are definitely talking about him more. And Lorna Lowell's  profile has risen on Wall Street as well. Considerably," commented one  industry observer who also requested anonymity due to the delicate and  evolving nature of the developments.

The observer further commented, "It might just be enough to thwart any  sort of revolt by the Board and prevent any no confidence motions.  Maybe."

Whether that is the real reason for the engagement, or whether there is  genuine love, that is up for debate. What is established however is that  Wall Street is watching. Very closely.





171





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.





172





Becca





What am I doing? Honestly, I don't know and I don't care. I just know I have to do this.

After closing the blinds, I turn on my heels and look straight at Mason.  There's a fog in my mind, one hiding my rational mind and unleashing my  deepest cravings. I'm so wet right now that I can feel my drenched  black lace thong already sticking to my skin. This is wrong on so many  levels, I know, but I just can't help it.

"What are you doing, Becca?" he asks me, getting up from his chair.  Without taking my eyes off of him, I walk toward him, going around his  desk. My heart feels like dynamite, the whole room feeling like the  inside of a powder keg.

"I'm a married man, now, remember?" he says to me, but he says it with a smirk and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"You know what I'm doing," I whisper, placing both of my hands on his  chest. "Let's just call this my welcoming you to the family."

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

Running my hands down his shirt, I only stop when I feel his belt, and I  hook my fingers there, pulling him into me. "I want you," I continue,  my fingers fumbling with his buckle. "I need you." I pull the belt out  from its loops and let it fall to the floor; at the same time, he leans  into me, my eyelids drooping as he closes the distance between our  mouths. In his eyes there's fire, an urgent need to dominate me; he  wants this as much as I do.         

     



 

When he presses his lips against mine, the whole world around me starts  to fade away. Outside from his office, the trading floor is still going  through its daily chaos; there are people talking and shouting, anxious  traders walking back and forth as they split their attention between  strong coffee and spreadsheets, but I'm oblivious to it all. Right now,  I'm in a world of my own. One where Mason reigns supreme.

"You're a wicked one," he whispers, pulling back from our kiss and  running his fingers through my hair. I reach for his mouth and bite at  his lower lip, pulling it back as I place my hands on his waist.