Wicked Bad Boys

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Six months ago, our firm took the company on as a client, to carry out the acquisition of Warrior Revolution Sports. It’s Sloan’s biggest competitor. The deal is worth half a billion dollars, and when it goes through, it will make Sloan Sports and Entertainment a multi-billion dollar entity. We’re about four months away from wrapping up this deal. It’s got big stakes for everyone involved, and is playing out in the public eye. Do you know what this means?”

  “I would speculate that Sloan can’t afford to have anything negative happen in the public domain for a while?”

  “Correct, but it’s not just Sloan. Warrior Revolution is also at risk, not to mention our firm. This is why I need you to find out as much as you can from Jonathan.”

  “Sorry, what? Kara, you just said—”

  “I know what I told you. I said to keep it professional. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best person to get to know him, gain his trust, and find out how bad this really is.”

  “Kara…you’re asking me to spy on him? Couldn’t that call my professional conduct into question?”

  “All we’re asking you to do is limit our firm’s exposure, Rebecca. We will protect you. The best thing that can happen is for this to go away. The next best thing is if Jonathan is holding the proverbial smoking gun. It allows Solomon to distance himself and the company from the pain that Rushton is guaranteed to bring to the table. Even our firm can do our part to wash our hands of it, by simply referring Jonathan’s criminal defense to another lawyer. No matter what direction we decide on, just make sure you don’t let this assignment get personal.”

  A call comes in on her phone. She resumes her speakerphone negotiations and her usual tirade. I lean back into the seat and exhale, but inside, I’m reeling. I straighten out my suit jacket with both hands, trying to pull myself together. As I reach into the pocket, there’s something in it that wasn’t there before. I pull it out. It’s Jonathan Sloan’s business card.

  Chapter 7 - Jonathan

  The sharp and sassy legal team leaves. That Rebecca chick is sexy as hell, and there’s something about her that strikes me as—different somehow. My dick agrees, so I’m thinking, hey, if all goes well, there may be some fringe benefits to covering for my father. Lawyer pussy is some of the sweetest pussy around.

  Dad goes back to tending to his rose bushes, and I’m ready to bust out of the place and head back to Manhattan. I have a sinking feeling that what I just agreed to do for my father will be my complete undoing. But I take my lumps and I’m ready to run with it.

  I’m itching to get out of the place, except I promised Claire I wouldn’t leave until we got a chance to talk. Climbing up the back stairs, I head for her room. I’m already not in the frame of mind to have a long catch up session, so I practice my ‘I can’t stay long’ line in my head to make it convincing enough. The girl can read me like a book.

  As I approach her room I hear voices. It’s Claire and Parker. It’s loud. Too loud. I don’t hear shit breaking, so I stand in the hallway and wait it out. I say to myself if they keep it up for more than a minute and nothing gets thrown, I’m leaving. I’ve done enough stepping in for family, and maybe it’s time I let things be.

  As I stand there, I hear what they’re talking about, and I’m better off waiting. Claire’s probably gonna need me after this one. Their door is open and I’m standing right outside. They’re so deep in their argument, they don’t even see me. Parker still looks like he’s in control. Claire is off the deep end.

  “Why did you marry me if you feel this way, Parker!” she shouts across the room.

  “Baby, I wish you would stop asking that. Why do you keep asking me that same question over and over again?”

  “I want to know.”

  “Why now? Why not two years ago when you said yes?”

  “It doesn’t add up, that you could love me and take that job in Dubai. I hate Dubai. You know I do. Now tell me why, Parker. Why did you marry me?”

  “Hun, you know I could have done a lot worse. Look at you…brains and beauty, and you’re so hot in bed.”

  Parker is walking on thin ice here. Claire looks like she blew a gasket on the last comment. If I were him, I’d be turning tail and letting her calm down before she chops off a testicle.

  “Well, why did you take that damn job on the other side of the world?”

  “You know exactly why I took it. Your mother asked me to do whatever your Uncle Bill asked, and this is where he said he needed me.”

  “Bullshit. You think I don’t check my facts, Parker? He said you asked for that assignment. I want to know why. Now don’t try and deflect the question. Why did you marry me?”

  “You’re rich, Claire. What else?”

  “Don’t give me that crap. Your family is rich too.”

  “Not as rich as you are.”

  He walks up to her and rubs her shoulder. “Come on baby, you know I just got back after six weeks. I missed you so bad. Just forget about that asinine question. Let’s try to pick up where we left off.”

  She pulls away. “You think I’m going to back down, but not this time. I asked you a simple question—why did you marry me?”

  “Claire, for the love of God. Please stop and take your clothes off. I’m only back for a week, and if you’re not coming there with me, I need to get as much of you as I can before I go back.”

  I’m getting tired of the dramatics and I’m ready to go. But now I want to know why too. Parker showed up after years of Claire pursuing him unsuccessfully, and after two months of dating he asked her to marry him. When she said yes, they had the fastest mega-wedding I ever saw—one that would have taken eighteen months to plan, and was executed to a tee in three weeks. I always wondered why the sudden change of heart.

  It looks like she breaking him down. The man is nervous as hell, pacing and placating. She’s onto something. I stand there as though I’m watching a soap opera episode. I rationalize it up and down, telling myself I’m waiting just in case I need to break up a fight, but really, I want to know almost as much as Claire does. She stops him and holds him by the forearms.

  “You don’t have the balls to come clean with me, do you?”

  “What do my balls have to do with anything?”

  “Stop being a coward and a prick. Tell me, you bastard.”

  He is bursting with contempt now. She’s chipping away at the man, bit by bit, insult by insult, and I know it’s coming to a head.

  “Oh I’m a bastard and a prick? Okay, I’m done anyway. You really want to know why, Claire? I married you because your dad had something over my family’s head. And marrying you was the only way they’d leave us alone.”

  “What…who are you talking about? Solomon? Or my real dad?”

  “I’m talking about your father. Christopher Roch, God rest his evil soul,” he says with pure hatred in his eyes.

  “What did he have over your family?”

  “That doesn’t concern you. The point is I was the bargaining chip.”

  “Tell me what it was, Parker, or I’ll…”

  “You’ll what? Get me fired? Take away my Porsche? Look, woman, that secret was buried when your father died last year, and so help me God, I would never utter it to the likes of a Fairchild, not even you, dear wife.”

  Claire collapses on the bed, looking shocked and horrified that the last two years of her life as a lawfully wedded wife was a big sham. Parker seems as though he’s already regretting what he said, but now that he’s let it out, he can’t take it back. Her disbelief turns to fury and rage, and she gets up and starts pounding him in the chest, and screaming at the top of her lungs. I can barely tell what she’s saying, because it’s between tears and profanity, and she’s making no sense at all. That’s when I say enough is enough and stop them in their tracks.

  I clear my throat as loudly as I can at the door, and they both look up. “Claire, is everything okay?”

  “No it’s not! I want this man out of here! Please Jonathan, get him
out of this house.” She crumples onto the bed and sobs so hard her body is shaking.

  Parker does not wait for me to help him leave. He reaches for his wedding band, tugs it off and throws it in a corner before storming out. As he passes me he leans in close and whispers, “Watch your back with the Fairchilds, Jonathan. They prey on trust.”

  I could easily lose it on the fucker, saying something damning just because he’s burnt a bridge he can’t go back over. I let him have his last word and focus on Claire.

  I go over to the bed and sit beside her, rubbing her back as she lets it all out. I don’t say a word. The girl just got the wind knocked out of her sails, and the way I see it, she does not need a word from me. I’m there for her, and my hand on her back is more than enough emotional support. After a solid thirty minutes of bawling her eyes out, I get her some water to drink. She sits up and finishes the entire bottle, and leans her head on my shoulder. I’m feeling like a good big brother.

  Over the years, Claire has been the one person to believe in me. I want to be there for her, as this is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. The girl’s been sheltered all her life. We’re so different, but that’s why I want to protect her even more. If what Parker says is true, Claire is an innocent pawn.

  She sits up and is holding her own now. I take it she’s recovering for the time being. She gets up to pick up Parker’s discarded ring in the corner. Claire stares at it like it’s a curiosity, takes her two rings off, and places the three on her vanity. She comes back to the bed and sits in my lap. I don’t mind. The girl’s my little sister in my eyes. I still see her as the twelve-year-old kid I met when her mom and my dad got together.

  I lean over to kiss her cheek so I can finally get out of there, now that she’s calmed down, and she slaps me hard across the face from out of nowhere.

  For a split second, I’m stunned.

  “Why were you eavesdropping on Parker and me?” she asks.

  I leap off the bed and jump away from her. “What? Seriously? I stood there to make sure you were okay. What the fuck, Claire? What’s wrong with you?”

  I don’t even wait for an answer. I bolt out the door, out of that house to my car, and I’m driving like a speed demon to put some distance between me and what just happened. Maybe she was letting off some steam from Parker’s confession. I don’t know what it was, but I sure didn’t deserve that.

  Monday goes from bad to worse when my dad tells me what I’ve got to do, and then the lawyers get jittery. Now I just want to forget I ever woke up this morning.

  Chapter 8 - Rebecca

  Kara takes us back to the office. I can barely think, but I don’t get paid to be flustered, so I pull it together. I spend the next two hours catching up on a legal brief and clearing up the backlog caused from being out of the office almost the entire day. I stay back an extra hour, and like many nights, I decide to take a break, go for my evening run, and come back refreshed later that night.

  The thing I have to be grateful for is I live less than twenty minutes from the office. My father’s parents and grandparents were life-long New Yorkers. My father’s living inheritance, although not monetary, consisted of a mortgage-free, two-bedroom, fifth floor Manhattan condo unit in an ancient building. It was less than seven blocks from Central Park.

  My father is astute. He knew the unit was worth its weight in gold, and had rented it out for a killing for years. He often joked that the rental profit from the unit is what paid for me to go through law school. I realized after I started looking for Manhattan apartments that it was probably no joke. For a week after Kara hired me, I had been searching for a decent place to rent, and had resigned myself to living in Brooklyn or the Bronx to make ends meet.

  It’s funny—I had just accepted an offer for job with a six-figure starting salary, and it still wasn’t enough to cover my rent in the average, Manhattan bachelor apartment. It was frustrating. That afternoon, my dad phoned. He said he and mom were in town, and they wanted me to meet them for dinner. I knew something was strange. Neither of them ever took time off, let alone traveled together.

  After dinner, as the server brought our desserts to the table, he slid a set of keys over to me. It was the keys to the condo he kept rented. He apologized, because he wanted to give them to me when I had passed the bar, but it took a while to get the tenants to move. I don’t think I ever hugged my parents as much as I had that night. He told me to consider it my inheritance, and to make sure I didn’t spend it all in one place. I moved in the very next day, and my ritual of going home and returning to the office at night was born.

  I get to my apartment and make a beeline for the closet. I need to take a run outside to clear my head. Jonathan is still on my mind, and a run will take care of all that misplaced sexual energy that’s running rampant through my body. I send a text to Sarah to see if she’s interested in joining me. She replies by the time I put on my running gear. She says she’s dying to take her dog out, so we agree to meet in front my building in ten minutes.

  Sarah’s family is old money. It’s a complete coincidence she lives a block from my place. Her parents got it for her when she announced she wanted to open her own hot yoga studio—they cover the lease on her yoga studio too. I’m thrilled to have a good friend living nearby, though. With all the millions of people hustling and bustling around in the city that never sleeps, New York City can be a lonely and isolating place.

  I get downstairs and Sarah is already waiting. She’s in a black and hot pink track suit with matching running shoes, and has her long blonde hair up in a ponytail. Her dog, Buddy, is a gorgeous golden retriever with the calmest disposition ever. In no time, we’re warmed up and headed to the trails inside Central Park.

  “So how’s it going?” she asks as we run side by side, with Buddy leading the way. “Do you realize I haven’t seen you for almost three months?”

  “Has it been that long?”

  “Uh-huh,” she confirms. “We went for drinks to celebrate your new job, and poof, you fell off the face of the earth.”

  “Sorry about that. I guess I got busy.”

  “It’s the new job, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty intense.”

  “No doubt. Maybe you should come to a couple hot yoga classes from time to time. It’ll relax you.”

  “Nah. Running’s my thing.” I see she’s a little disappointed by what I said, so I add, “I’d love to come and check it out. Maybe a Saturday morning or something.”

  “Cool. So fill me in on the job.”

  “Ahhh, it’s pretty crazy all round.”

  “I heard,” she replies. “My dad said that Kara Henry chick is one tough cookie. Well, he actually didn’t call her cookie, but let’s save the profanity for later.”

  “Really? How does he know her?”

  “Their firm handled a civil case for his company a few years ago, I think. He said the place was a revolving door. People got fired for the stupidest things.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So tell me what your first week was like. I run a yoga studio, remember? There’s nothing glamorous about watching twelve women and the odd guy doing downward dogs all week.”

  “I hear you,” I say, laughing through faster breaths. “Okay this part was cool. I show up on the first day, and before they even assign me an office or cubicle, the assistant hands me a piece of paper and says “Go there and ask for Angela.” I’m confused as ever, but I do what I’m told. Every request is a test in places like that.

  “I get to the address, and it’s a tiny but expensive clothing boutique. I ask for Angela and this woman comes out, looking like she runs a bordello. I mean, she’s coifed to the hilt. I get nervous, thinking, maybe this is some screwed up hazing ritual to initiate the newbies. She looks me up and down, then says, “That should be fine” and leads me to a set of large change rooms at the back. She points me to the one I’m assigned to, and tells me to try everything on and let her know what fits.


  “I walk in, still a little nervous, and the change room has a rack of about twenty business suits, shirts, pencil skirts, trench coats, and talk about shoes.”

  “You mean they pick out the clothes you have to wear to work?”

  “Yes. It was insane. Anyhow, I tried everything on—they all fit to a tee, by the way—and I get my clothes back on and tell her they’re all fine. She has two younger cashiers pack everything up and tells me they’ll be sent to my home or office. I ask her if she needs an address, and she tells me she has what she needs.

  “I get back to the office to start my day, and it’s normal. It’s just like it was when I worked for Barnaby. I get home that night, and the two girls are waiting for me outside my door—with two rolling racks of the clothes I had tried on. They tell me it’s all there, that I can keep the racks, and they leave.”

  “Sounds disturbing to me.”

  “Here’s the worst of it all. I get into work the next day, and in my office is another two racks of the exact same clothes. They pulled two of everything for me.”

  “That’s plain crazy, but to be honest, if it ain’t crazy, it ain’t New York. Enough of this stuff. I was hoping for something juicy.”

  “Like what?”

  “Any workplace romances yet?”

  “What? No. I mean, I’d never get that personal at work, and there’s no one I’ve seen so far who is my type.”

  “How about clients? I hear Kara defends some of the hottest gangsters in town.”

  “Oh God, no. Sorry, Sarah. I’m afraid my life is as vanilla as yours.”

  “Dammit,” she says as we reach the leash-free dog park. “You know what? We’re going to have to change that. We’re in New York City! It’s time the two of us have some excitement in our lives.”

  She lets Buddy off the leash, and he goes running to socialize with some of the other dogs. “What are you doing this Friday?”

  As we’ve stopped, I take the opportunity to stretch my muscles and walk in place. “No plans. I’m probably working late, though.”