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“We’ll see about that,” he said softly and darkly.
Chapter Five
Who was this woman who had bounded into his office, lectured him about being nicer to his staff, promised his PA, who had fucked up royally, that she wasn’t going to be fired, and instead offered her a raise, which he did not authorize?
Simon Cunningham inhaled the sweet scent of the perfume of the dark-haired, brown-eyed beauty and allowed his gaze to slip down the length of her body. He couldn’t deny that the moment he looked up into her face, the blood in his veins had run hot, and his cock had twitched. That hadn't happened in the longest time for a woman.
He had wondered how he never noticed his PA was that fucking gorgeous, that bossy, and that hot.
Except she wasn’t his PA, which made sense because he would have noticed her from the very first moment he set his eyes on her.
So Blakely Cohen worked for Andrew Symmonds, the man who had raised them since they were six months old. Andrew had been the only father figure they had known.
Their parents, together with Andrew and his wife at the time, had gone out to a party, and then, in a drunken state, they dropped their chauffeur off on the side of the road and decided to drive the limo home themselves while they were all intoxicated.
They crashed into a delivery truck, and Simon, Henry, and Asher’s parents were instantly killed. Andrew was hospitalized for three months, undergoing surgery after surgery to repair his legs.
His wife, Sonia, had escaped mostly unscathed, and she had taken care of them, promising their dying parents that she would make sure they lived up to their legacy, kept their names, and knew who their parents were.
Sonia passed away when they were around sixteen, and no woman that Andrew brought into their lives lived up to her. It also didn’t help that the women he married were no more than a few years older than they were.
They had drifted away from their adopted father by then. They couldn’t understand how he could love someone like Sonia, whom he made his wife, and then think she was replaceable. Did they want him not to be happy? It was different.
Andrew could fuck any woman he wanted every night of the week, but he didn’t have to marry them. That was tainting Sonia’s memory. That’s what they didn’t want. Because they firmly believed a man could only love one woman. Which also explained why they were still single.
Although there was a marriage clause somewhere in their trust funds and they were nearing the age mentioned, lucky for them, they had made their own money. Simon had Cunningham Enterprises, a company worth more than Andrew’s entire estate and also worth more than what his parents had left him. He was closer to being worth more than two hundred billion dollars now.
Simon knew his taste for wealth was to make sure he was never beholden to the terms of his trust fund. Marry by the age of thirty-three.
Henry had sold an app and software to a tech company for a cool fifty billion dollars and then invested it all to double it so he could go around jumping out of planes or swimming with sharks. His need to live dangerously was born out of the loss of their parents.
He pushed himself to the limit, and if Simon and Asher, for one second, believed he was endangering his life by being careless, they would slam him back onto the firm ground and keep him there. No one took more calculated risks than Henry.
Asher owned a string of posh nightclubs all around the world. His net worth was nearing a hundred billion dollars as well. The thing about Asher was that he was a party animal, but no one knew he only pretended to be a playboy.
Being surrounded by women who constantly threw themselves at him turned old very quickly. Simon and Henry couldn’t remember the last time Asher had sex. But he’d earned that reputation by association, and he kind of flaunted it around. He was nothing if not the opposite of the rich young aristocrat manwhore cliche.
Simon was willing to bet his favorite racehorse that the only reason Henry and Asher were in fact in a car waiting to be driven to their father’s private hangar here in London was that they wanted to see how far each one of them was willing to go.
The fact that they had done her bidding and followed her around seemed to be something they all shared.
“She got to you too,” Henry said as soon as Simon, humoring her, climbed into the limo after her.
“She must be something else,” Asher murmured, scooting over to give Simon a place to sit between him and Henry.
Blakely Cohen, looking as accomplished as she probably felt, sat opposite them by herself. Her modest knee-length skirt rode up just a little, but it was enough to make their cocks hard, and he spoke collectively.
What he was feeling, he could rest assured that Henry and Asher were feeling the same.
She really must be something else, because there was no way they would have found themselves in a Brairbrook limo with a Brairbrook chauffeur at the wheel.
They glanced at each other and had an entire conversation without saying a word. Being raised together as brothers while they were not born as brothers meant they had to learn about each other as if they were learning about themselves.
Their bond had started when they were six months old and, now into adulthood, was unseverable. They were completely synchronized in their thinking when it came to important things, despite having different personalities. They were left alone in this world together, and they planned to stay bonded until the day they died.
One thing was clear: They hadn’t quite yet decided if they were going to fuck their father’s prized PA, and she was prized, or he wouldn’t have sent her to do the impossible. Bundle them into a car and take them to New York for his fourth wife’s fucking birthday party.
Perhaps they would give her one more chance to respond to them before they made their decision about whether they were keeping her or not.
