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“Or, if he doesn’t care for carrots,” Drazen growls, “would he respond well to the stick?”
I deal with a fair number of men you could classify as psychopaths, or sociopaths…violent nut jobs with a lust for power.
Drazen Krylov, although he dresses like a billionaire playboy these days, is another level altogether. I have zero idea which of his mythical origin stories is true, but none of them seems very happy. That he was a conscript in the Russian army. That he was a child soldier in the Yugoslav Wars. That his nickname was once “the headsman”.
…Well, you get the idea.
I’m trying to find the most tactful way to remind Drazen of the legal ramifications of killing a city employee when Dante turns to his co-investor and fixes him with a look.
“Easy.”
Drazen grins and lifts his shoulders eloquently. “What? I’m merely looking at all our options.”
“Killing a New York City alderman is not an ‘option’,” Dante grunts.
“I’m not suggesting a public execution,” Drazen sighs deeply. “But accidents happen…”
“Speaking as your attorney…” I growl, tapping my glass with a finger.
And as a sane person. Jesus.
“I’d suggest the carrot. If you want to expand Venom into the building next door that’s for sale next door, that will involve blurring the lines on about a dozen different building codes. Ed Lee fancies himself a hero of the people. He’ll make a big stink about the construction and the permits. But at the end of the day, he wants his taste same as everyone else. He just doesn’t want to have to come out and ask for it. And when he does get that taste, he wants to get it in private.”
Drazen rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying: brakes fail on cars all the time. Elevator cables snap.” He shrugs. “Bullets fall through the backs of skulls. All purely acts of God.”
I arch a brow at him as Dante shakes his head. Drazen grins at me and pats the table. “I’m joking, counselor. Relax.” He swirls his drink. “So, he wants a bribe, he just doesn’t want anyone involved to call it a bribe, is that it?”
“Pretty much,” I nod. “He’s on the board of a bunch of charities in this district. You contribute a sizable amount to two or three of those, and also see that he miraculously finds a new Porsche in his driveway, and I’ll bet any expansion issues go away.”
I want to give myself a pat on the back. Not for suggesting the obvious to arrive at a solution to a client’s problem. But for making it through that entire conversation without my mind wandering to Eloise.
Well, at least not so much that I forget what the fuck we were talking about. Because that’s been happening of late.
A lot.
After fucking Eloise in my office the other night, I half expected her to freeze me out again. No matter how fake, forced, hateful, and more importantly unconsummated her “marriage” is to Massimo, part of me wondered if she’d view what we did as cheating. Dirty. Something “bad” she needed to atone for and abstain from in future.
I would have lost that bet, badly.
Literally the morning after, Eloise walked into my office with an armful of files I hadn’t asked for, shut the door, locked it, and proceeded to climb into my lap. I think the time between “door opening” and “my dick sliding into her dripping wet pussy” was maybe twenty-five seconds.
In the three days since then, I’ve fucked her no less than four times in the sub-basement stacks and once more in my office, fingered her in the legal library upstairs, and devoured her pussy in Conference Room B.
I’m not complaining.
But the downside to this sudden and full-scale addiction to Eloise is that the rest of my life seems to be having a hard time capturing even a fragment of my attention. I don’t mean putting on mismatched socks or forgetting to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I mean fumbling my fucking words in court. Forgetting to sign legal documents that are about to be officially filed—a mistake Katerina caught, thank fuck. I think I owe her about a month of paid vacation time for that.
So, yeah, making it through an entire meeting with these two without letting my mind drift to thoughts of pumping Eloise’s pretty pussy full of my cum, or watching it drip down her ass, is impressive?—
“Alistair? You with us?”
Mother. Fucker.
Okay, almost through an entire meeting.
I blink, refocusing on Dante. “Sure am. Just crunching some thoughts in my head. I’ll have my assistant make a list of Lee’s charities and forward them your way, along with my recommendations.”
“Great, thanks,” Dante nods. He looks past me, frowning slightly before a grin spreads over his mouth.
