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2
Two months later…
THE ASHER BUILDING is synonymous with wealth and opulence, and yet, I know the truth behind these walls. Things hidden in plain sight that those walking past would never imagine the man behind a CEO’s desk is capable of.
But then again, I’m not most people, and word travels fast within certain circles.
All it takes is the right connection—the right person pulling the strings—and doors open with endless possibilities for the right price. A price Mr. Asher is all too willing to pay for a man with my particular set of skills.
A young woman sitting at the receptionist’s desk looks my way as I walk through the main entrance and head straight for the elevator. She’s smart enough to not draw attention my way just as the guards ignore my existence. Instead, she quickly looks away and helps an elderly woman asking to speak with the investment specialist inside the branch.
No one speaks to me, and I don’t wait long as the door opens a few seconds after I press the button, letting me inside a wide and empty car. The walls are glass and as I ascend, I take notice of multiple cameras on each floor and the heavy security watching all who enter.
To someone who doesn’t know any better, it’s a simple system—common—while I know the quality of the equipment will rival that of the White House. The sensors are there to read more than activity. More than account for who comes and goes.
At this point, someone inside the security room knows the size of my cock and to what side it hangs.
There is no privacy within these walls, and I respect that. Respect the man who’s taken his family’s bank and turned it into a profitable money laundering empire for corrupt and unapologetic businessmen around the world. Men like my cousins who could profit from the services offered.
He’s dangerous, but I have no soul. He’s wealthy, and I have no fear.
I pass floor after floor until reaching the last, and the door opens. Two letters stand out across from me; a large golden M and A that lead to a small hallway where a desk awaits. There’s no one sitting there—no one to let their boss know I’m here, and just when I take a step past the table, my world stops.
Literally. Unequivocally.
“Take another step and I’ll shoot you.” There’s a hint of amusement in her tone, and the decadent sound sends a rush of excitement down my spine. Every nerve ending vibrates as her scent, a sweet and floral tone, infiltrates my senses. The owner of the voice is close, invading my personal space, and my nostrils flare—my cock giving a harsh jerk behind the confines of my zipper. What the fuck? “Now, the question here is…are you feeling frisky?”
“Those are dangerous words for a…” I begin but trail off when she steps into my line of sight, hand on her hip and eyes, challenging. Fuck. This woman is beautiful: a tiny doll with a hint of wickedness behind those seafoam eyes and a taste of depravity in every sinful curve.
Because I take her in.
All of her.
From her dark auburn hair to the dangerous heels on her tiny feet; this woman is perfection. At no more than five feet and three inches, she draws something from deep within that makes me throb where I stand, but it’s the cockiness—that tiny curl of her upper lip that brings forth the asshole in me.
I take a step forward, loving the way her chest expands.
I lick my bottom lip, savoring the way she follows the movement with unveiled interest.
Who is she?
“Who are you?” she asks without pause. No shame in the way she watches me.
“I’ll tell you after I meet with your boss, Muñeca.” There’s a slight narrowing of her eyes and purse to her top lip at my words, and they make me want to bite her. To keep pushing her buttons to see if she snaps—if she scratches. “So be a good girl for me and let him know Javier Lucas is here.”
“What did you just say? What did you call me?” My eyes skim down her front and pause on a small name tag attached to her white silk top. “I think I heard wrong.”
“Mariah,” I croon low, savoring her name on my tongue and the small hitch in her breath. There’s a slight tremble that she quickly hides behind a rigid back when I close the space between us. “Muñeca…my little doll, I asked that you do your job and announce me. I promise to reward you after.”
“Step back,” she hisses through gritted teeth, her expression angry, but I catch the straining of two little nipples against her top. The goose bumps on her arms. “I’ll give you to the count of—”
“Mariah, let me know when Mr. Lucas arrives,” a male voice says from the doorway at the far back of the room. It startles her, and she jumps back as if burned while I hold my ground, never taking my eyes off of her. Never addressing the man I came here to see.
“He’s here, Malcolm.” I don’t like the way she says his name. The familiarity and ease when she should address him as her superior and nothing else.
“You mean Mr. Asher?” The bite in my tone isn’t missed by either, and I feel the man’s eyes on me. Sense when he comes closer, and if I were a lesser man, I’d cower back.
