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First, I grunted through forty-five minutes on the elliptical, followed by six miles on the treadmill, set to a substantial incline. Even the two-hour Krav Maga session last night didn’t help. When I stepped into the shower, I was immediately assaulted by the half dozen jets fully powered to treat tired and sore muscles and tried to quiet my thoughts.
This proved to be pointless because the more I tried to push my mind toward other thoughts, the more they raced back to big green eyes, wispy blonde hair, and legs that would not quit. I soon found myself jacking off to the vision of her on her knees in front of me, taking my cock into her mouth. It didn’t take long before I was leaning against the shower wall as my seed shot onto the floor in long, arduous ropes.
I had an eleven o’clock meeting with Nick and Melinda. Even though we were friends, it bored me to no end how desperate he was to stay in my good graces. After feeling he fucked up the Morgan deal in my absence, he was relentless in his pursuit of atonement. He did everything short of kissing my fucking feet every time I walked into the room. In the end, everything worked out in our favor. Gaining the ninety-five percent stock hadn’t been initially on my radar, but who, in their damn right mind, would turn down such an opportunity.
It turns out Lucas Morgan wasn’t the pussy I made him out to be after our first encounter. He was suing the company for defamation, which made my legal team scoff. My personal lawyer, Scott, wasn’t even going to tell me because it was such a bullshit move, but he’d let it slip after one too many bourbons last week.
I wanted to blame that on my shit mood this morning, but I knew better. I had been a total dick to everyone recently, and my team was afraid to breathe in my presence, scattering like cockroaches in daylight every time I walked the corridors. I stormed past the petite receptionist and nearly bit her head off when she told me good morning. Melinda had been my assistant for too long to put up with my moodiness without calling me out. She barged into my office without a knock.
“King, what gives? You scared the shit out of poor Regina.” She only called me King when I had been really shitty. Was I that bad?
Hell yes, I was. She stood staring at me, waiting for an explanation. She could wait until hell froze over for all I cared, I didn’t owe anyone an explanation for my actions. She finally turned on her Louboutin heels when I delivered a death glare in her direction and ducked back into the safety of her office. I would send her and Regina a basket of chocolates later to make up for my dick ways.
We were seated around the conference table in the office adjacent to mine. Nick, Melinda, and I had been discussing the details of the merger when my phone buzzed. Normally, I wouldn’t give my phone a second glance during meetings, but with everything going on with my dad, I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I’m not sure why, but a twinge of disappointment pulled at me when I saw my twin brother’s name flashing across the screen. Why did I expect it to be her?
I excused my team and took the call, placing him on speaker. “Ben.” I forced my voice to sound unaffected, but he sounded winded when he spoke.
“Courtland, hey, man. Am I interrupting anything?”
Just my life, but I couldn’t really say that. “What’s up? Is everything alright with Dad?” I was a miserable excuse for a son and brother, but when push came to shove, I would be there for all of them.
“Yeah, Dad is good. Listen, I’m in town for a business meeting. Can we meet tonight for a drink?”
Meet for a drink? Something was up. My brother came to the city often, but he usually flew in and flew out without a fuss. Most of the time, I never knew he had been here until after he had left. “Sure, how about eight o’clock, Club Max?”
“That sounds good. I’ll see you there.”
I disconnected the call and stood staring out the window that overlooked Central Park. I had purposely chosen this property to house King Enterprises because of the breathtaking views of the city. Each office offered a stunning look at Manhattan at its finest. Besides my office, which had a view of Wall Street, this one was my favorite. The world looked small and ordinary from this vantage point. Bicyclists and joggers lined the grounds, seemingly without a care in the world, while horse-drawn carriages carted lovers and friends around the eight hundred forty-two acres of lush green land.
As I watched the people below, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to take a carriage ride with Molly. Her small frame would be tucked into my side, and we would snuggle under a warm blanket and sip hot drinks to ward off the late spring wind before stumbling back to my penthouse to make love before a crackling fire, erasing all the bad, if only for one night.
Stop this, King.
That voice that torments my mind when sleep eludes me stirred again.
What you are thinking about is a fantasy. She will never want you, especially when she finds out what you did to her all those years ago. You are the nothing people think you are, hiding behind a mask of indifference.
With that last thought rooted firmly in place, I ambled over to the drinks cabinet, poured myself a healthy glass of Macallan, and tried to clear my mind of all things Buttercup.
****
It was just before eight when my brother strolled into the bar, taking a seat next to me. He did a double take when he took in my disheveled appearance. “You look like shit, man. Like you haven’t slept in days. What’s up with that?”
My hair was plastered to my forehead, a product of the late spring humidity and the fact I had opted to walk the four blocks from home. I wasn’t wearing my suit jacket, and my white shirt was creased from having rolled the sleeves up to escape the unforgiving heat. Ignoring his biting comment, I shot back. “It’s good to see you too, bro.” I had seen better days, and I was on my third Macallan when he arrived.
He continued to stare. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen you like this. Well, at least not in the last ten years. Is everything okay with you?”
Did I really want to get into this with him? I mean, he was my brother, but we didn’t share shit like that. We bonded over booze and sports, not feelings. I waved him off, hoping he’d get the idea and change the damn subject before I had to beat his ass in front of everyone.
I excused myself to the men’s room, and when I passed the mirror, I stopped, frozen in place. I did look like shit. My eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark circles, giving my pale face a gothic appearance. I didn’t recognize the figure staring back at me. Who was this stranger?
Gone was the steady, independent asshole who’d carved a name for himself with Manhattan’s elite. In its place stood a weak, insecure shell of a man. Smoothing back my hair and splashing cool water on my face helped somewhat, and I returned to the bar, mask firmly back in place.
When I reached the bar, I noticed Ben had taken a table toward the front entrance. He motioned me over and held a glass up as I took a seat across from him. “Okay, little brother, cut to the chase.” It didn’t matter that we were twins. I was born three minutes before him; therefore, I was the older brother. He huffed at my endearment.
Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he leveled his eyes at me. “Look, Court, I don’t know what happened with you and Molly. That’s between the two of you, but I need you to know that I’m worried about her.”
Before he could continue, I interrupted him. “Why are you worried? Did something happen?” I must have had murder in my eyes because Ben held up his hand in surrender.
