I almost feel like crying. Not because of Derek actually. But because I'm going to sound so blonde right about now.
"I dunno, Ash," I say to her in a pleading voice. "He just kinda swept me off my feet. Whisked me away to the Caribbean."
Ashley looks at me. "He didn't like your questions, so he flew you off to the Caribbean?" she asks me.
I nod. Then to just dig my hole a bit deeper, I add, "He has a private island."
To her credit, Ashley doesn't do anything right away. I mean, she takes bite of her gyro and chews thoughtfully before looking at me.
"I mean, this one time I was dating this guy who worked at Dow Jones," Ashley says. "I went through his phone one morning and saw his texts with this ho from his office. He was fucking her on the side," she says. I nod at her, wondering what her point is going to be.
"Anyways I totally flipped out on him," she continues. "He made it up to me by taking me to Red Lobster. So I guess I know what you're talking about with your billionaire. Red Lobster to him is a romantic private island in the Caribbean."
Is it me, or is Ashley just sighing?
"So why can't you bring it up at work?" she asks me.
That's it, isn't it? That's the part that makes this situation so fucking sucky.
"Because I love him, Ash," I say quietly. "Or at least I'm falling in love with him so hard right now."
We sit there for a moment. For a moment, the both of us are quiet. The cars and people pass us by. Park Avenue continues to bustle and I look to my left, to the MetLife Building looking down on the entire Avenue from 42nd Street.
"Looks like you need to make a choice, babe," Ashley tells me after a moment of looking at me. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t envy me. That she actually feels for me. "It sucks, but you need to figure out whether you wanna risk your career by keeping something potentially illegal to yourself for love, or risk losing the guy you’re falling in love with to keep your job with a faceless corporation run by a bunch of dudes."
Wow.
When you put it like that, no mater what I do, I'm kinda fucked. And not in a way that I'm gonna cum, either.
175
Derek
30 million.
That’s how many dollars whoever in Carter Jeffries is stealing from me has taken so far. They’ve been quiet. They’ve been sneaky. And they’ve been very, very careful.
But they don’t know who they’re fucking with. Just because I live in a rarefied world of money doesn’t mean that I’ve lost touch with the world. I’m a shark. I know when there’s blood. I can take a scent. And then stalk my prey. Until I catch them and tear them limb from limb.
Right, sorry for getting carried away, but I get upset, I hope you understand. I have billions of dollars and 30 million isn’t that much in the big scheme of things. But being taken from me means that it can't be used in other operations. That’s the salary that could go toward many people who come look to me for jobs. That’s health insurance money. That’s retirement money.
What I’m trying to say is that money isn’t just mine. It’s money I would have spent that would have directly helped another person’s livelihood.
But like I said, I'm tracking it down based on the scent.
And I think I’ve found it.
All I need to do now is wait. Control myself from jumping in and letting my emotions run my judgment and just wait.
Four.
That’s how many weeks Alicia and I have been dating. When I first told her I didn’t do the whole boyfriend thing, I was telling the truth. I’m a mid-thirties self-involved, intelligent, good-looking, hard working loner. My sexual tastes border on the voracious. No woman has ever been able to keep up.
Except Alicia.
She seems to find it amusing in tempting me and then resisting just long enough to make it exciting for both of us.
Like the other day. It was a weekend so she was spending the night at my place. I was in the living room reading some reports when she walked by toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. Normally, this isn’t something that can cause me to lose focus, but she walked by in black stockings, a black lace thong, and a matching bra. She walked slowly, swaying her hips. I noticed. My cock began to twitch and I pretended to busy myself in my reports until she began to head back.
But here is where her innocence and naïveté show through.
Instead of walking by nonchalantly, she peeked around the wall dividing the kitchen and living room.
Directly into my gaze.
“What are you doing peeking out here?” I asked her sternly.
She literally squeaked. I can’t lie. My cock instantly turned to granite and I could almost feel my fucking boxer briefs rip as my 12 inches began to poke out.