Cocky Suits Chicago: Books 1-3

by Alex Wolf

  This is one of the reasons I can’t take his request for a date seriously. He’s nothing but an immature office prankster with a big dick who behaves like a teenager.

  Why does he get me so flustered?

  I’m slipping. I’m off my game and it’s all his fault.

  I eye the box of chocolates sitting where my phone should be. It really would be a shame to waste them. They look super expensive.

  “Who keeps sending the flowers you throw away?” Tate smirks when she walks up. I know she knows.

  “This guy Carter. Won’t take no for an answer.” I roll my eyes, hoping my performance is believable. “Chocolate?” I thrust the box toward her.

  “Maybe later.”

  I shrug. More for me.

  I bite into a truffle and nearly have what I could only describe as a chocolategasm.

  Man, these are good.

  Now, I just need to figure out how to get myself out of this Deacon mess, after I’ve had a few more chocolates.

  Deacon

  I snicker at the flowers sitting in Quinn’s trash can as I head to Decker’s office.

  I can’t help but notice all the gold foil wrappers scattered through the petals.

  Didn’t throw those fucking chocolates away, did you Quinn?

  I’ll wear her down, slowly but surely.

  She’s away from her desk or I’d give her shit about it. I haven’t seen her all day.

  Dexter and I hit the golf course with some old oil tycoon Dexter’s trying to land. Guy has a nine-digit net worth and is on his last legs. It took two hours longer than normal to play eighteen. I don’t know how the guy hasn’t pickled his goddamn liver. He drank a fifth of whiskey before the turn at hole nine. Even I can’t stomach drinking that much that early. I like a good time as much as the next guy, but fuck.

  Much respect to him.

  When I checked in with my secretary earlier, she let me know Tate dropped off a mountain of files on my desk. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up thinking about it. She does this shit just to piss me off, but I won’t give her the satisfaction.

  I walk into Decker’s office.

  His head pops up from whatever he was reading, like a damn meerkat. “You assholes need to start knocking.”

  “Get your woman on a leash, pussy. Your house is out of order and it’s affecting me.”

  Decker stands up and his jaw flexes. “Watch your mouth.” He bows up for a second, then relaxes. “You don’t like Tate because she makes you work.” Raking a hand through his hair, a smile slowly spreads across his face. “Actually, I have something even you can handle. Easy as shit and you’re perfect for it. Do it and I’ll tell Tate to ease up.”

  I rub my hands together. “Now we’re talking, brother. Consider it done.”

  “I need you to speak at a college.”

  My jaw ticks and I stare at him.

  He tries to hold back a laugh at my reaction, but he’s damn near trembling.

  Finally, I shake my head. “Fuck off. I’m not doing that. Have Dex do it.” Decker knows I hate that kind of shit.

  “Not up for debate. You already agreed and we might be The Hunter Group now, but I’m still the managing partner in Chicago.” His face turns serious as he paces around his desk and leans back against it with his arms crossed. “If you want Tate off your ass, prove to me you can be an asset. Because, if we’re being honest here, I’m getting sick of your shit. We’re not just accountable to ourselves anymore. You bring in the least amount of clients, log the least amount of billable hours, you’re out golfing all morning when Dexter could’ve gone by himself, and you reek of whiskey. So get your secretary or a paralegal to draft a presentation if you can’t come up with one on your own.”

  I love how he talks shit about me smelling like whiskey when he has a whole goddamn bar in the corner. Regardless, I can see it written on his face that I’m not getting out of this. “Fine.” I growl the word, a vein bulging in my neck. “When?”

  “Monday night.”

  I sigh. “You shitting me? Night school? What the fuck, Decker? What if I have plans?”

  He smiles. “A Pornhub marathon doesn’t count as plans. The professor is a good friend and sends me clients and keeps an eye out for prospective employees. I want you to look for any possible students we might want to offer an internship.”

  “Night schoolers aren’t real lawyers. Why would you hire someone from there?” I groan. I know exactly who goes to night school. People who don’t have their lives together and people past their prime. Working adults who have way too much shit going on to be dedicated employees.

  I know I’m being harsh, but my brain is searching for any reason it can possibly conjure for me to get out of this.

  Decker straightens up in front of me. “Know what your problem is?”

  I hold my hands up. “Please tell me, Dad.”

  “You’re incapable of being an adult.”

  I scoff. “That’s not true. I’m always mature.”

  “Really? How about the time you cut a hole in the bottom of a bag of Doritos, stuck your dick in it, then offered some to Donavan?”

  I try to hold back my laugh. Fuck, that was a good one. “He had it coming.” I can barely keep a straight face after that magnificent pun. It was a ten if I’ve ever heard one.

  “It was during a staff meeting!”

  “Well, he met with the staff, all right. And a lot of people would’ve been happy with his surprise.”

  Decker shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What about the chart you made in Excel to rate the tits of our hottest clients?”

  I point a finger at him, deadpanning a serious glare. “That was an exercise from a training seminar you sent me to. I was practicing pivot tables.” I can’t even look at him while I finish the last sentence.

  “Jesus Christ. Enough. You’re speaking at the college and I’ll be following up to make sure you represented the firm in a professional manner.”

  “Fine. Can I fuck off now? Or is there anything else?”

  “Go, please. This little chat is giving me a headache.”

  As I leave his office, Tate saunters by and gives me a side eye. I can practically hear them laughing at me from his office.

  Oh, fuck both of you and your missionary sex.

  She has him right by the pecker, leading him around and taking over the firm. Decker never had a problem with my performance until she showed up. Donavan told me all about her going to Decker to get one of his lawsuits dropped. Not everyone wants to work their ass off non-stop and never enjoy life like Decker and Tate. They live for their jobs. Some of us have a fucking life and actually enjoy cracking a joke and laughing once in a while.

  Bitter old fucks, and they’re not even old yet.

  Besides, I fill a role and it’s perfect for me. I’m the charismatic brother. The one who goes out and drinks with the good ol’ boys. I warm them up and then Decker comes in and closes the deal at the end.

  The only problem is he takes all the credit for landing them and acts like I don’t do shit.

  Fuck him.

  I go out on the weekends and schmooze while he’s at home being a dad in his giant house. I endure countless hangovers for this firm, thank you very much. And I never bitch about my job like Decker. He’s turning into a woman. I bet Tate has a bigger dick than his.

  I smile at my thoughts, loving the way I rationalize partying as an asset to the company. I am who I am. At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.

  Quinn

  Dropping my bag on the counter, I rifle through it for a tie and pull my hair up into a messy bun. I’m ready to kick my heels off and change out of these stuffy clothes. It’s been a long week and I need to make dinner for Dad and settle in to study.

  It’s just the two of us.

  “That you, Quinn?” my father calls from the living room of our two-bedroom apartment. The place has a weird floor plan. The hallway leads past a coat closet then a half bath
room and the kitchen. The living room is just beyond, then a full bath split between two bedrooms. We live on the bottom floor because Dad needs an electric wheelchair to get around. He suffered a stroke a few years ago. It left him with severe nerve damage down his right side and forced him into early retirement. Before that, he drove a bus for the city.

  “No, it’s Publisher’s Clearing House. We won a million bucks.” I giggle. It’s an ongoing joke between the two of us.

  He rolls toward the kitchen using his regular wheelchair, and I smile. He’s having a good day if he can wheel himself around, and it’s great for his arms to get a workout.

  “Heather called. Said you told her you can’t go out tonight.” His eyes pierce through me.

  “Don’t start. I have a big exam next week.”

  “I’m going next door for dinner. Mrs. Waters is making enchiladas.” He flashes his crooked grin. The stroke left him with a small droop on the right corner of his mouth.

  “You know you’ll regret it later when your heartburn hits. You aren’t supposed to have that stuff.”

  “You go out with Heather and I’ll lay off the hot sauce. You need to have a life once in a while.”

  I sit there and mull it over, glancing to the ceiling then back at him. “Fine, old man. I don’t appreciate you using your health to hold me hostage.”

  “Who are you calling old? I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I grab my bag and move around him, so I can call Heather and see what she’s dragging me into this time.

  “Dayumm. You look hot. If I was into women, I’d be all about this.” Heather grins and waves a hand up and down at me.

  She’s wearing a red dress with see-through mesh that goes up both sides and down the front. She looks fantastic, but her outfit leaves little to the imagination. Her hair is swept up in a high ponytail and sways from side to side as she walks.

  “Shut up.” I fidget with my hair, smoothing it over my shoulders. “It’s not too much?” I don’t normally wear clothes this revealing, but Heather snagged the emerald-green dress for me from her store. They were going to toss it because a thread on the hem was frayed and needed replaced.

  The front and back has a deep V that runs down to my navel and my rear. I couldn’t even wear a bra with it. Paired with my auburn hair, I feel a bit like Poison Ivy.

  It’s packed wall to wall when we walk inside PRYSM Nightclub. Strobe lights flash off the wall and the thumping bass vibrates in my chest. Being packed in the place makes me a bit claustrophobic but nothing some booze can’t handle.

  “Let’s get a drink.” Heather has to yell in my ear.

  I nod.

  She gestures toward the bar and we navigate our way through the crowd of catcalls and wandering hands. I’m going to regret this tomorrow morning, but I’m already here, so I push the thought from my mind. I’ve missed hanging out with her and I’m always responsible. I can afford to let my hair down for once and have fun.

  Heather goes on dates all the time. She eats up the single life since she ended things with her last boyfriend.

  I order a whiskey sour. Heather gets a dirty martini. Drinks in hand, we look for a table, but it doesn’t appear promising.

  Just have a good time. It’ll be fine.

  I take a healthy swig from the rocks glass and sway my hips to the music. I should’ve ordered two drinks, judging by the length of the line at the bar, but I need to pace myself.

  We aren’t in the club for more than five minutes when my face flushes and a familiar tingling fans out to my extremities.

  It’s not the alcohol.

  I glance up to the second floor that overlooks the main dance area.

  It’s him.

  Deacon.

  He’s chatting up some busty brunette that’s fawning all over him. He smiles right at her.

  It’s a smile some part of my brain hoped was reserved for just me.

  I know better but seeing it still stings. He’s in his element, doing what he does best—charming women.

  I’m an idiot.

  I shouldn’t feel foolish, but that’s exactly how I feel right now. I know he sees other people. I tell myself constantly I hope he finds someone to take his attention away from me. He’ll never settle down with one woman.

  The music cuts off just as Heather shouts my name. “Quinn!”

  His eyes flash in the direction of her voice, but I dart out of his line of sight praying he didn’t see me.

  “You okay?” Heather eyes me, giving me a once over.

  “Good. Just a little overwhelmed.” I suck down my drink. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I’m not really feeling it.”

  “Okay.” She frowns and knocks her martini back. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I nod.

  We place our empty glasses on a nearby table and move toward the exit. The lights dim, and they’re replaced with neons strobing across the ceiling.

  I turn my head and catch a glimpse at the spot where Deacon stood earlier but he’s gone.

  “What do we have here?” A deep voice rumbles in my ear, and a hard body presses into me from behind.

  For a brief moment, I smile. I shouldn’t, but I do. It has to be Deacon.

  I turn around and the smile fades immediately. Carter Hughes wraps a hand around my waist like he just won the lottery.

  In all honesty, if I didn’t know him, I’d probably find him attractive. Unfortunately, I do know him. We fooled around for a bit in high school. Actually, he strung me along under the guise of dating, while he slept with several of my so-called friends.

  The joys of high school.

  I shoot him a look that says let go of me now and move away, but he tightens his grip and pulls me closer. I smell whiskey on his breath, and he slurs his words like he’s hammered. Heather is a few feet away talking to one of his friends, Stewart. I already know this is a set up, but I can’t be too mad at her. I never really told her about my history with Carter out of embarrassment. I never really tell her about my sex life at all. I thought I’d hinted I wasn’t interested in him, but apparently, I didn’t communicate it effectively.

  I try to squirm my way out of Carter’s grip, but Stewart guides Heather toward the bar. She must’ve seen my initial smile and thought I was okay with Carter. That has to be it.

  Great.

  Now I’m on my own with this asshole. She better not leave me here alone and go home with Stewart.

  “Fuck, you got hot.” Carter exhales in my ear, and I shudder.

  “Thanks.” I sigh and twist out of his grip. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “Want some company in there?”

  “That’s the exact opposite of what I want.”

  “Well, don’t keep me waiting.” He leans in to kiss me, and I duck out of the way.

  He damn near stumbles into someone else, and I make my escape.

  Deacon

  God, this place sucks a dick.

  This club isn’t my style, but I promised to show a client’s son a night on the town and he wanted to come here. Wrenley Cooper is new to Chicago. He grew up on the West Coast with his alcoholic former child star mother. His father, Justice Cooper owns one of the biggest recording companies on the planet and he’s grooming Wrenley to join the family business.

  Good luck with that, Mr. Cooper.

  He’s fresh out of college and a fucking nerd. He’s the exact opposite of his parents, and I can’t help but feel bad for the kid, and good for him in a certain way. His dad’s an asshole of the highest order, but he’s definitely good for padding my billable hours and nets me a nice little bonus each quarter.

  The kid looks uncomfortable as fuck in this place, like he’d rather be off playing Call of Duty. Why the hell did he ask to come here? Maybe he’s just awkward.

  I think Justice hopes I’ll get the kid laid. You know the dynamic I’m talking about. Father and son who are night and day different. Kid wants to play computer games. Dad wants him to be a man and li
ve up to the family name, rush a fraternity, run naked through the quad up to the gymnasium type shit.

  It’s kind of sad, and I can relate to the kid. I know what it’s like to live in the shadow of family and not meet expectations.

  I chat up this ditzy-ass chick for him. Her tits are about the only thing she has going for her, because the brain cells are lacking. Maybe she’s dumb enough to give the kid a blow jay and get his father off both our backs.

  Just about the time she starts to regale me with her supreme intelligence, I hear someone shout the name Quinn. My head jerks and I scan the club looking for the auburn-haired woman who loves to tease my cock every chance she gets. It’s wishful thinking. There’s no way in fuck she’ll be caught dead in this place. It’s so not—her. Hell, I don’t have a clue what she does outside of working at the firm. That’s one of the reasons she needs to stop being so goddamn stubborn and go on a date with me. I want to know what she likes to do. I want to get to know her better.

  “You’re like hot.” The chick giggles.

  I manage not to roll my eyes. It’s all about ol’ Wren’s dick tonight. I can’t be an asshole to her until the mission is accomplished.

  “Speaking of hot, you should meet my friend. He could use some company. His girlfriend dumped his ass.” I sigh and nod. “Yeah, she really did a number on the poor guy. Dumb decision. He’s rich as fuck.”

  Her nose scrunches up. “What’s wrong? Why’d she dump him?”

  I lean in close and whisper in her ear. “This is just between us. You can never tell him I told you this.”

  Her eyes widen. This shit is too fucking easy.

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “She couldn’t handle his dick.”

  She leans back a little, like she’s feigning offense.

  I shrug and look off at the crowd, scanning for Quinn but putting on a show at the same time. “It’s true.”

  Her eyes dart over to Wrenley.

  Fuck, he’s standing there looking all pathetic.

  “You sure?”

  I shrug. “It’s always the shy ones. You know this. They don’t need to brag.”