by Alexis Angel
The way her words manipulate the story, and paint the situation into something horrible sounding, makes my stomach clench.
I don't know why I ever married this woman. What did I ever see in her?
She doesn't wait for me to respond. Instead, she continues, "But it doesn't have to be this way. Talk to the banks. Flip the script. Tell them that Dirty Lil' Angels is a bad investment. And in doing so, prevent them from investing in the company."
I stand there frozen, the phone still held to my ear. I think about Natalie and Sloane, and everything that's at stake.
"Hello?" Linda asks. "Drake? Are you listening to me?"
Words are caught in my throat. Her ultimatum has left me speechless.
Do I give in and 'flip the script'?
Do I step into the viper's pit?
Sloane
So this is what it all comes down to.
This is what I do. You're going to see me in action today. We’re going to make Dirty Lil’ Angels a giant fucking company.
All the paperwork is over. All the hoops jumped through.
I'm standing next to my Treasury Operations team. They sit next to the trading floor that takes up the majority of the Hard Times main floor. The Treasury folks control the money. They're in Finance, and without them we wouldn't know what kind of positions we're in during our trading day.
Let me put it to you another way.
Let's say that I have one hundred million dollars. And I invest it in a company that starts paying me back 10 million a month for twenty months. That means that at the end, I'll be getting back two hundred million dollars. But that's only over the course of twenty months.
So each month I get back ten million dollars.
So what am I doing with that cash? I'm gonna have to re-invest it. But I'm also going to have to pay regulatory fees and taxes. And I'm going to have to make sure that I have enough coming back to tide me over till the next ten million comes in from the first investment.
Now instead of just one investment, imagine this is for several hundred.
Right.
Blows your mind away, doesn't it? And that's why we have a Treasury ops department.
See, people like Drake, they're all flash and little substance. They make the big sales, close the big deals, and then they think the hard part is over. But the back office bean counters—the accountants—they're the ones who keep the fucking firm running.
Seriously, rule number fucking one on Wall Street should really be never to disparage the fucking back office. Because they will fucking make or break you.
Anyways, I really hope your eyes aren't glassing over at this point with my explanation.
I had to give you a little bit of a rundown so you could understand what I was doing sitting here.
Today's the day.
Today's the day that we're going to make the first $450 million dollar investment into Dirty Lil' Angels.
Take it from a cottage shop run out of Natalie's living room and Facebook and make it into one of the leaders in the sex toy appliance manufacturing. In the matter of six fucking months, they'll be the Apple or Samsung of fuck toys.
Treasury is going to be releasing the funds once my CFO approves it. There's a long chain of corporate governance here.
First my CFO has to approve the release of the funds to Treasury. That's when Treasury approves the payments to the bank. That's when our accounts with Carter Jeffries get funded. These accounts then flow into the bank accounts that have been set up for Dirty Lil' Angels. And then Natalie sees the money in those accounts, and it's when she knows she's been funded.
But when will our CFO approve the funds?
Only when he gets the green light from our bankers downtown that in the event of any catastrophic loss that doesn't include negligence that we have insurance and are hedged and covered for these investments.
See, it's our money, sure. But right now it's sitting in bank accounts that are insured by the Federal government. So if the bank ever goes bust, the Federal government pays for the deposits we have in there.
But once we move the money we need to make sure that the banks are willing to honor that insurance guarantee even if the entity name has been changed and the money sits in a Dirty Lil' Angels account instead of a Hard Times account. If we don't get the guarantee that the bank is willing to guarantee the deposit insurance of our funds, we're not moving shit.
So right now, all this comes down to a fucking waiting game.
Natalie has already signed all the relevant paperwork. She's dotted her i's and crossed her t's.
The banks are all taken care of too. Drake has been working on that, convincing them about the viability of this deal. This way, the less skittish the banks are about the underlying business, the more willing they are to keep extending their insurance to us. Which allows us to lend money while still keeping our credit lines intact to pay for things like payroll and rent.
Yeah, it's all one big fucking house of cards, isn't it?
That's why when one piece of it comes crumbing down, the whole thing starts to teeter.
But when one piece of it starts making money, the whole thing shoots into orbit.
This is going to be so fucking great too. We're gonna make so much fucking money. And then I'm gonna take that money, get hundreds of $100 bills and shower Natalie with it. She's going to be naked on the bed as I make money rain down on her.
Then I'm going to take her gorgeous body and lay her down on the bed.
I'm going to spread her legs and lift them up, exposing that beautiful waxed pussy to my hungry fucking gaze.
I'm going to enjoy that view, as Natalie's naked fucking tits are covered in dollar bills and her legs are spread open. I'm going to take my cock and glide it across her slit, teasing those puffy pussy lips till she's moaning for me to take her.
Don't forget Drake either.
I want him running his cock across her face on the other side of her. I want to lift her up as we both fuck her. Pass her around like an object. Just use her for our lust. Completely fucking dominate her and pound her pussy and ass so fucking hard that by the time we're done with her she's just a whimpering mass of flesh.
Her nerves should be so shot with pleasure that she's quivering.
I growl to myself thinking of what I'm going to do to her. What Drake is going to do to her. What the both of us are going to do to her.
Once the damn money comes through.
I look to guys sitting at the Treasury desk. I'm standing right next to them. The Vice President of the team looks at me and gulps. He knows we're behind schedule.
"We still haven't gotten the okay to go from--" he's about to finish but I cut him off.
"If the CFO of this Firm hasn't given the green light, I'm not telling you to do shit," I tell the Treasury guy. He sighs visibly. No doubt he thought I was going to tell him to break some sort of rules and transfer the money.
"Get me on the line with him now," I tell Treasury.
There's only one 'him'. My CFO, Carter Blake.
"What's the holdup?" I ask him the moment he comes on the line.
There's a silence on the other side. I'm about to lay into the fucker when he speaks.
"The banks aren't releasing the funds," he says simply. But I can tell there's frustration on the other side. He's not saying this easily. He must've been on the phone with them yelling and threatening them already. He knows that's what I'd expect him to fucking do.
"Where's the holdup?" I ask Carter.
"They won't say," he sighs. "But all they will tell me is that they no longer believe this deal is viable."
Wait.
Fuck.
Viability? Drake is supposed to be working on that. He's supposed to be assuring the banks that if anything, and I mean anything happens to Dirty Lil' Angels and Natalie, that Castleton Capital will swoop the fuck in and buy up the entire company to honor the debts.
Without Drake's assurances, no bank on Wall Street will invest i
n a sex toy company.
"Get Drake on the line," I say through gritted teeth. I don't like the way this smells.
"That's the thing, Boss," Carter says and sighs again. "I tried. Drake's office isn't taking any calls. And they won't comment when I ask them if they're willing to go on record to assure the viability of this investment. They've gone into hiding."
I grip the phone.
This deal is falling apart.
Without the assurances, the banks won't guarantee any loan. They won't guarantee our deposits.
Without those guarantees, my shareholders will never let me fucking invest in Natalie's company.
Without my investment, or Drake buying her out, Natalie's company won't fulfill it's order and will probably get fucking sued for taking partial payment in bad faith.
Most likely go out of fucking business.
Fuck.
I need to go see Drake Carlton.
I knew what we had was too good to be true.
If Drake did screw us, then I'm going to fucking kill him.
Drake
I'm drinking my morning coffee when I hear a loud voice.
"It was you, wasn't it?" The door to my office flies open with one quick thrust, and the gust of wind from its sudden movement causes the paperwork on my desk to flutter. A few sheets slide to the ground.
Sloane marches over to my desk, pointing at me. He's livid, his nostrils flaring like a bull in a ring. His tie is crooked and he looks as if he's rushed over here.
Sloppy, I think to myself, and impulsive, per usual. But there's something animalistic and raw that makes my cock pulse. Not now … why is my mind going there?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply, keeping my cool.
"The fuck you don't!"
"Calm down; have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?" I ask.
"Are you fucking listening to me, Drake?" He's now pacing in front of my desk, clenching one fist.
"I'm listening, but I've got to be honest with you. I'm not following."
"That's funny, real funny," he says, glaring at me with daggers behind his eyes. "One minute, banks are drooling over Dirty Lil' Angels, they literally can't fucking wait to throw money at the company's feet, and the next minute, well, I'm sure you know all about this, but not a single fucking bank is interested. Poof. Gone. If you tell me you're not behind this, you're a fucking liar."
I'm watching his fist, and daring him to come at me. I'm daring him to come closer and make the first move. I can only maintain my cool for so long before he pushes me over the fucking edge. He better watch himself.
I just shake my head, and he laughs. "That's funny … real funny. Give me a break."
I stand up and walk around my desk, meeting him at eye level. I can no longer take his presence sitting down.
"You're not ready for the truth," I say.
"I knew it. I'm not a fucking kid anymore, so stop treating me like one," he growls, the pulse in his neck quickening. I can't help but watch it flutter, and watch the way he's breathing, quicker now, and ragged.
"I never said you were … although you barging in here like this sure makes you look like one. You should really try to outgrow these temper tantrums of yours."
With that small dig, he glares at me, and I continue, "Like I said, you aren't ready for the truth."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he snaps, and I watch the chords of muscle in his neck flex and twist.
"It means you just need to wait."
"Wait?" he asks, disbelief etched into his face. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I know—it's a foreign concept, but trust me," I reply, sarcastically.
"It's not a foreign concept; it's fucking impossible. We don't have time to wait. Natalie is counting on this money for Dirty Lil' Angels, and her new prototype isn't going to make itself. She needs this money, and she needs it now. Are you going to stand there and tell me you don't care about any of that? Especially after … everything that's happened?"
"Look, if you want to know the truth," I say, "yes, I was behind Dirty Lil' Angels' sudden decline in interest."
"I fucking knew it!" he snaps, and now his jaw is clenched tight. His entire body is as tense as a rubber band, and it's clear he can snap at any minute. He's now facing me square on.
"It's true, yes, but there's a reason—"
Sloane cuts me off, his blue eyes flashing cold and dangerous like a sharp, steel blade. "You seriously have a fucking reason?"
He takes a step closer to me, and the space between us shrinks.
"I'm going to need you to trust me on this," I say in a firm tone. I'm no longer asking; I'm telling. The tone of my voice escapes my mouth as a sharp command.
"I have a hard time believing that there's a good enough reason to fuck Natalie over," he replies, and now he steps even closer, pointing a stiff finger into my chest.
As soon as his finger hits me, I grab his wrist. The movement is swift and hard.
He growls, "You betrayed Natalie; you betrayed us," and he pushes me back, freeing his wrist from my grasp.
The force of his thrust causes me to stumble and fall back against my desk, and now my heart is kicking in my chest. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and without thinking, I ball my hand into a tight fist. I lunge at him, and throw my fist into his jaw. His reaction is instantaneous and in a split second, I am wrestling him to the ground. He's stronger than I anticipated, but I have the upper hand. I'm on top of him, his legs pinned underneath mine. He's breathing hard into my neck, our muscles pressed into each other.
He grunts, struggling to get out from underneath me, and I watch as his mouth parts open, ever so slightly. The movement almost seems too delicate. Waves of lust and violence electrify my entire body and I feel my cock hardening on top of him. What's come over me? The sensation of it all causes me to grind my body into his, harder now. Can he feel my hardness in his thigh? I wonder. I fight the urge to bring my mouth to his … and then what? Kiss him? Bite him?
All of these thoughts cease when as we wrestle, a chair is knocked over. The commotion reverberates throughout the office and we hear CJ run in.
"What's going on?" she cries out, horror and confusion flooding her face. And behind her, a security guard runs in.
He's overweight and red in the face, and I can't help but think he looks like an angry tomato.
"Mr. Hardman, that's enough! We need you to leave this office immediately! Or we'll be forced to call the police," he shouts with as much authority as he can muster.
I release my grip on Sloane, and we both part ways, standing up and brushing ourselves off. We're both breathing heavy, refusing to look at each other. Sloan clenches his jaw again, and without saying another word, he leaves my office just as quickly as he came.
Natalie
This can’t be happening.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for is at risk. My prototype, my company. All of it is on the line now.
The moment I knew I had secured the investment I needed, I rolled all my profits into developing my flagship prototype. And now that the banks are retracting their financing, everything might go up in flames. Lovely.
Fuck. What do I do?
“Hey, you okay?” Sloane asks, sitting down on the couch by my side. There’s worry in his eyes as he looks at me, and I’m betting that I have an expression of pure shock on my face right now.
“I can’t believe Drake would do this to me… I just can’t,” I start, balling my hands into fists as a blend of anger and sadness courses through my veins. First my mother, now this. “Not after all we’ve been through…” I whisper, feeling more betrayed than I've ever felt in my entire life. This hurts, it really does.
“Fuck him, Natalie. Just fuck that guy,” Sloane says, placing his hand on top of mine and trying to force a smile. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll find a way to get you the money you need.”
“Thank you.” I offer him a pale but genuine smile, even though his words offer not
hing but hollow comfort. With the banks out of the equation, there’s no way Drake would secure the amount of money Dirty ‘Lil Angels needs right now. “Thank you for telling me about Drake … and thank you for being here,” I continue, squeezing his hand.
My stepbrother might be an unrepentant asshole, but he’s so much more than just that. Under that tough surface there’s a caring man, one that’d go to the end of Earth just to protect the ones he loves.
He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, smiling, and I feel a deep sadness taking over me. My brother was supposed to be the asshole, not my stepdad. And now look at me, betrayed by Drake and being comforted by Sloane.
I know that my mother is involved in this somehow. This whole thing reeks of her. I just don’t know why Drake would take her side. He doesn’t love her, and their marriage was just a thing of convenience, the way I see it. So why? Why would he stab me in the back like this?
“I know you’re thinking of him, ‘sis,” Sloane says, and I place my hand on top of his and close my eyes, allowing his deep serious voice to calm me down. “But you gotta let it go. We gotta let it go.”
“Thank you,” I say again, looking into his eyes. I lean toward him and brush my lips against his, his scent and flavor blanketing my mind and easing all the worry floating there. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’ll always be here,” he says with a smile, and I can’t help but offer him a wide and genuine smile. He means what he has just said.
“I know,” I whisper, taking my hands to his face and kissing him. My lips linger on his and, for a moment, we’re alone in the universe. I place one hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my palm, and then he pulls me into him.
Spreading my legs, I climb on top of him and straddle him. I reach for his crotch and flatten the palm of my hand there, feeling his cock harden steadily against my fingers. I press my forehead against his and, looking into his eyes, I unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly. He lifts his body a few inches from the couch, and that’s enough for me to push his boxers down and send them to his knees.