And not only did she refuse me and kick me out, but she hasn’t called me. It’s infuriating.
Sitting in my office, I settle back into my leather-tufted chair and try to calm my raging thoughts. I turn my eyes and look out the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the city skyline.
The windows allow me to look out, day or night, without fighting the blinding sun. And from the exterior, the yellow metallic coating makes the whole tower sparkle like a tall, flaming sun . . . hinting at the danger and Dangers inside.
Still, it’s not the best office in the building, but I’m determined to move up. Soon enough, I’ll lay claim to Dad’s office and then I’ll finally have the penthouse office in the Danger Tower.
But now, there’s something else I want to claim . . . Madison’s sweet body. My brain immediately jumps back to its rolling loop, happy for the momentary permission to indulge. I think about the way she felt grinding against my thigh, the heavy softness of her breast in my hand, and her breathy sighs and moans echoing in my ears. My cock hardens in my slacks and I have to grip the armrests of my chair to stop from taking matters into my own hands. With a deep breath, I shudder, making an effort to gain control of my thoughts. It’s harder than it should be.
Let it go, Scott, I tell myself. She hasn’t called. She’s not interested.
Besides, I can’t afford any distractions right now. With this deal looming, I need to get my head on straight and make sure my dad and the board see the opportunity I’ve laid out as the best option, the only option. To do that, I can’t waste time thinking about pussy. I’ve probably just built it up in my head anyway. I was half-gone on horniness, and the martinis didn’t help. Because of my skewed memory, I’ve built her up to pedestal proportions because she didn’t play according to my usual rules. Madison was a simple mistake, that’s all it was.
A mistake that you would make again if given the chance.
Maybe, except for the way she looked at me when she saw my tattoo. The expression on her face in that instant haunts my dreams. I know my tattoo isn’t that bad. It’s pretty fucking awesome, actually. So what went wrong?
With a mental shake, I chastise myself. Whatever her issue was, it doesn’t matter. Right now, I need to work. There’s too much at stake, and I can’t let Dad choose Chase once again. Chase’s plan is smart, I’ll give him that, but it’s safe, predictable, and low-risk. Considering the irony of our family name and the odds Dad had to tackle to make the company what it is today, I’m surprised Chase is so close to getting the nod.
Maybe Dad is getting soft in his old age? Not that he’s old, really, but venture capital can be a young man’s game, needing quick and decisive action and a willingness to go big for the financial rewards. Maybe that’s the angle I should play? Pander to Dad’s desire to be the alpha big dog, setting the tone of the business, because that’s what my plan offers.
That’s good . . . potentially, even a great way to sell my idea.
Refocusing, I pull up my laptop screen. Ignoring the fresh coffee that my secretary, Delores, set out for me and the curl of steam rising from the ebony surface, I get down to business. First thing, check emails.
Many of them are from the executives, all lauding my deal in couched language, the code words there but the message clear. Good job, but I won’t stick my neck out to back you if the old man says boo. Fucking cowards. Useful cowards, but cowards nonetheless.
I answer each one, thanking them for their time and highlighting the benefits of my plan. I add a hint of language suggesting that my plan is more befitting the goals of Danger Enterprises. It’s not explicit enough for my taste, but I need to play this carefully. After the last email, I open my master spreadsheet to go over the numbers once again, needing to find as many angles as possible to make the vote go my way.
My door opens suddenly, with no warning knock, but before I can yell at the intrusion, I see the look on Robbie’s face. He’s already talking fast as he falls into the chair across from me. “Dude, check it out. The office is abuzz with gossip right now, and you’re holed up in here, clueless to the mother fucking tornado whizzing by.”
I look up from my laptop with an arched eyebrow and glance over his shoulder through my open door to the cubicle room. I can't see much. I don’t like being disturbed, and I think looking over people’s shoulders doesn’t help productivity . . . but it does look busier than normal.
“Apparently, Chase got your father to agree to a meet and greet with Lightspeed Venture to review the proposal. Lightspeed has wanted an influx of cash from Danger Enterprises before to help expedite their design-to-market timeline. They’ve requested meetings with your father several times with no luck, most likely because he didn’t see them as a good investment option. But now, when Chase decides to deem their latest project worthy and does a whole proposal on investing in them in front of the board . . . magically, your dad’s schedule opens up and he’s willing to consider them? It’s suspect, and I don’t like it, not one bit.” Robbie looks at me, measuring his next words. “Look, Scott, your brother is wily and smart, and I hear the brainchild behind Lightspeed is fucking brilliant. With the two of them in a room selling the profit margins and making techno babble sound like abracadabra, your dad’s sign-off might be as good as done. And you know the board is going to lean wherever he throws his weight, even if it’s not the right thing to do.” Robbie shakes his head a bit.
I sit back in my chair, thinking out loud. “Chase is definitely up to something. He’s no fool, so if he’s backing Lightspeed, especially considering they’ve been turned down before, there’s a reason. I need to know more about their latest tech, everything we can find, especially the stuff not in Chase’s reports. Any bugs, delays, or issues that he might be underselling.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, all the ramblings sinking in as we analyze. “I feel like it’s a big chess game, and Chase is already positioning his pieces and planning three steps ahead, while I’m the pawn sacrificed on the first play.”
Robbie nods. “Yeah, and what about Liv? Do we know anything about her proposal at all? What was the company name?”
I cringe. “Never even heard of them. Something called. Honestly, after the presentations, I’m not too worried about her proposal even though it’s really good. She’s gutsy and willing to make some inroads into new areas of investment that no one else would consider for Danger Enterprises. But we both know Dad’s not going to follow her lead even if it would make him bank. That’s not how he works, how he manipulates us.”
I let my eyes roll up, staring at the ceiling and focusing on all the different ways this Lightspeed meeting could play out. Robbie quiets, letting me work it out and knowing I need a minute of quiet without distractions.
Distraction. The piece of my brain where Madison is already residing jumps to life . . .
Fuck me, Scott!
Maddie’s words and eyes flaring with passion flash in front of my eyes. I shake my head, willing the image to dislodge and let me think, but all I can think of is her creamy skin under my hand and her moans as she came against my thigh.
“Earth to Scotty . . . beam your ass back here with the rest of us,” Robbie says, drawing my attention back to him. “What’d you come up with?”
“What?” I reply, my eyebrows knitting together.
Robbie rolls his eyes. “You said ‘yes’ while you were mentally off on a trip . . . thought that meant you came up with something.”
I shrug. “Didn’t realize I said anything. Was just thinking. Not about this, though,” I say, touching the stack of papers on my desk that we both recognize as our team’s proposal.
Robbie’s eyes open wide, incredulous. “You’re thinking, but not about this? What the hell, man? This could be catastrophic.”
“I know,” I growl at him. “I’m just distracted. But we’ve got this. I’ll figure it out.”
Robbie laughs. “Distracted? You? That’s funny, man. You’re like the most focused guy I know. Hyper-focu
sed . . . to the point of it being a clinical condition. What’s got you daydreaming if it’s not business?”
I don’t say a word, not willing to share how fucked up my brain is. First rule of business, don’t show your hand . . . not even to friends. But Robbie is a friend, a good one who can read my poker face like a pro because he’s had years of experience doing it.
“The girl! The fucking bartender!” he says gleefully.
“Shut the fuck up, man,” I order, more his boss than his friend. But he ignores the warning tone.
“So, did you fuck her? I just assumed you’d gotten your pipes cleaned and it was back to business as usual. You do it on the bar or bent over one of the tables? Please tell me you didn’t hit it on the floor. The cleanliness of that wood was sketchy,” he says irreverently.
“You looking for details?” I ask, my voice harsh. At his grin, I relent. “Nothing happened. I helped her clean up the bar and made sure she left safely . . . alone.”
As I say it, my fingers dig into my thighs under the desk, not letting Robbie see my frustration with how things had played out. I’d come so close to giving her what she wanted so badly. Fuck, who am I kidding? What I wanted. But she pushed me away over a tattoo? It still doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. I’m tempted for a split second to spill the truth and get Robbie’s take on it, but I refuse to let him see me as some pussy that’s pining over a girl after a passing encounter, so I bite back the words.
“Right. Man, I’ve known you too long for you to run that line of lies by me without bullshit flags waving left and right,” Robbie insists. “You expect me to believe that you, Scott Danger, cleaned tables in a bar and let her go without sealing the deal?”
“Believe whatever the fuck you want. It’s the truth.” My words come out cold and crueler than I intended. Robbie shifts in his seat at the change in my demeanor, suddenly uncomfortable. He’s pushing against the line, one I don’t want to cross.
He retreats, back to safer verbal territory. “Fine, whatever you say. But magic pussy aside, we do need to address this Lightspeed situation head on. You got a plan? Because Chase sure as fuck does, probably one that’s going to upstage both you and Liv. And you know Ice Queen has one to upstage both her brothers, just to spite you for having penises while she’s stuck with a man-eating vagina.” Robbie shudders, knowing my sister’s reputation for being a cold-blooded killer when it comes to sex . . . leaving a puddle of besotted men in her wake after she’s done with them. I don’t want to know why or how. She’s my sister, and most of the time, I don’t even really like her, so I definitely don’t need to know her sex life secrets.
I nod, knowing he’s right. But this is uncharted territory, and one wrong turn could leave us adrift in these choppy waters. Or worse . . . crashed and stranded, left with no option but to follow Chase into the doldrums of his plan. “No shit, Sherlock. They’re both just as manipulative as I am, so they’re going to be on their A-game. The level of competition has never been this high. The stakes have never been this important. My brother’s hold on the company is going to be solidified or not with this deal. This is my chance. My one chance.”
Robbie nods. “What do you need from me?”
“I’m going to put in a few calls to some friends I have in Lightspeed’s arena . . . see what they’ve heard. I need you to be my eyes and ears. Listen to our team and have them listen to Chase and Liv’s teams. Let me know anything that seems pertinent. And I need everyone brainstorming for a new angle, a new brick to put in the wall that proves our idea is the best.”
Robbie rises from his seat, looking relieved that we’re working the problem, even if it’s early stages and we’re easily the underdogs. “All right, man. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and be in touch.”
When he leaves, I let out a frustrated sigh. There’s still so much tension coursing through my body that I feel like a giant wound-up spring. And it’s only getting worse. I’d like to think that if I’d gotten my chance with Madison, she’d be a forgotten memory by now.
But deep down, I know that’s a lie. There’s a high chance I’d be even more enthralled. And that’s fucking scary.
I turn back to my laptop and send off a quick email to a business friend of mine who knows a lot about Lightspeed before checking the ‘dirt sheets’ for business news. I’m in the middle of an article when a thumbnail of a video on the sidebar catches my eye. “Bane humanitarian recognized for rescuing animals.” It’s a local story, so I click to keep up with what’s happening in town.
I click, and the video starts playing in my sidebar, so tiny I can barely see it, but something about the figures in it seem familiar. I blow up the video to full-screen and my heart catches in my throat.
An older woman with a happy smile on her face is being interviewed in the foreground, while in the back, three pink-shirted people work with a couple of dogs. But what captivates my attention is the girl in the pink shirt and cutoff shorts off to the side. I’d recognize that honey hair and figure anywhere. It’s Madison. Almost as if I’d conjured her from my mind.
A stifled moan barely escapes my lips as I see her bend over to pick up a brown pup. It’s just like that night at the bar. Not really, of course. She’s more covered up in this video. But my body responds all the same, my cock so hard it’s pressing against the restriction of my slacks.
Sweat starts to form under my collar as I watch her handle the small dog. Her every touch is soothing and loving, calmly caring for him. She seems so at peace and into what she’s doing that I feel a bit guilty for being rock hard. But her passion for the animals is apparent, and as selfish as it may be, I want those touches for myself. Her attention, her hands, her time . . . mine.
The footage only goes on for a minute or so before an ad starts. I’m tempted to start the video over, watch her again and again. Instead, I push my chair away from desk and spin around, palming my throbbing cock in a useless bid for relief.
I’ve never jacked off in my office, but fuck, for the first time in my life, I’m sorely tempted. By her.
She needs to be the one getting me off, I think. On her knees with her lips wrapped around my cock while she rubs her sweet little pussy. Fuck, I’d love to bend her over my desk right now.
There’s a swift rap on the door and it opens less than a second later. I almost jump guiltily, like I’d actually had my cock out to do a little ‘self care.’ Swiveling in my chair, I see it’s my secretary, Delores. She’s smart, knows more about business than a lot of MBAs I’ve met, and works like a fiend. She and I are a well-oiled machine most of the time, and she anticipates my needs before I even think them quite often. Right now, I just hope she can’t read my mind.
“Mr. Danger.”
I clear my throat, trying to look nonchalant. “Yes, Delores?”
She comes in and sets down a mug of light green liquid. “Your morning green tea. And Robert Danger wishes to see you.”
Of course, I always try to have some green tea at ten fifteen instead of coffee. The caffeine buzz lasts longer, and I personally think the benefits to my breath are worth it. “Tell my father I’ll be right there.”
“Of course, sir. And . . . I cooled down your tea for you, so you can finish it quickly.” She smiles and leaves, letting me have a moment of privacy to curse and prep myself for my father’s summoning.
Of course he’d want to see me while I have a raging hard-on and a distracted mind. But I know this won’t wait. I need to see what his thoughts are about the Lightspeed development, maybe even pump him for info about what Chase has up his sleeve.
Gulping my tea down like it’s a shot, I wipe my lips on the napkin Delores included on the saucer. I grab my suit coat from the hook and slip it on. Buttoning it, I wait until my blood stops pounding.
This can’t go on. I need to focus on work, but to do that, I need to deal with this fantasy I’ve built up about Madison. One way or another.
Fuck pride. I’m going back to that damn bar.
Cha
pter 8
Madison
Daily Horoscope, September 25th
Libra
Be bold and brave. Confront your fears and reap the rewards.
“So, how were the puppies?” Tiff asks as I come in the door, tired but happy. She looks like she’s had an easy day, stretched out on the couch in a pair of cotton short shorts and a tank top that would get her arrested if she left the house, considering the boobage she’s flashing. “And May?”
“It was awesome! You missed out on a great day. The news was there to interview May,” I say smugly, knowing Tiffany would love to have a quick fifteen minutes of fame on the nightly news. I nudge her feet out of the way and flop down on the other end of the couch.
Tiffany squeals. “What? The news? Why were they there?” And before I can answer, she kicks my thigh with her foot. “And why didn’t you call me? I would’ve medicated to handle being around the cats if it meant being on TV.”
I laugh because she’s not kidding. She would’ve popped an allergy pill and held those snuggly kittens up to her face for kisses if they were filming it for the news. “Wasn’t about the volunteers. It was about May. She got the Sunshine Story of the Week for running the rescue. Although me and a few of the folks who were there are probably in the background as they interviewed May.”
I say the last part as a dig, teasing Tiffany, and she huffs. “Ugh. Can’t believe I missed that. But this is cause for celebration for May and comforting for me. Sounds like it’s chocolate root beer float time. One scoop or two?” she says, swinging her legs off the couch and heading into the kitchen.
Root beer floats. Tiff’s answer to everything that happens. Good news, you need a float. Bad news, you guessed it. Happy, sad, stressed . . . you get a float, and you get a float. She’s like Oprah handing out her favorite things, if all her favorite things were creamy, bubbly goodness. “Two,” I answer, knowing if I say one, she’ll likely give me three. “And you’ll never guess what May said.”
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