Wealthy Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 7)

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Wealthy Playboy (Cocky Suits Chicago Book 7) Page 9

by Alex Wolf


  I walk out of the conference room and catch Dominic Romano sneaking away from Mary’s desk. We lock eyes, and he motions with his head over to the hallway.

  Once we’re out of earshot, I say, “Anything new?”

  He shakes his head. “Mostly the same stuff I already gave you. She runs the media outlets we discussed, has an impact fund that she keeps very quiet. Didn’t really find anything on her prior to 2010, not that it matters. She’d have been a teenager.”

  “So you’ve got jack shit?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Can’t believe this cost me a night on my boat.”

  “A weekend, bitch. And it’s because I got everything for you so fast already. The information trail dried up.”

  “Fine, fuckface.” I laugh. “Enjoy the weekend with Mary. I think I’m satisfied with the transaction and we can conclude it. Until I need something again.”

  “Until you need something again? I swear, you hedge fund assholes are worse than the actual mafia.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Don’t ask.” He laughs, then says, “And I don’t owe you anything now. But I’m always willing to hear proposals for my services.”

  “Yeah, I bet you are.” This time it’s me who laughs as I walk away.

  I have a lot to think about, planning my next move.

  Back at the office, and I still can’t concentrate. It’s that fucking kiss. It’s etched into my memory. I have to taste her again. I just need to be near her, feel her against me. An emptiness consumes me, like I’m hollow now when she’s not around, even if she’s pissed at me.

  I miss that connection.

  A PM walks into my office with a junior analyst. They look like they’ve been fighting with each other.

  “Someone better be bringing me a good idea, or they’re getting fired. Which one of you will it be?”

  They both freeze and stare at each other like I just put the fear of God into them. Where else in this city can these guys make a couple million bucks a year for sitting in front of a computer? They perform or they’re gone. I have a list of smart people who want a job here. It’s more than a mile long.

  If I thought my social skills were lacking, these mathletes are even worse.

  They stand there, both stammering and stuttering.

  I stand up. “Jesus. Nobody is getting fired.”

  They both relax.

  “Yet. Now what’s the issue?”

  The analyst finally speaks. “We’ve had our eye on this Chinese manufacture play.”

  Fuck my ass. There’s nothing easy about investing in China. There are a million bad optics, plus an authoritarian state in charge that likes to interfere with business. It’s definitely an area of growth though. Lots of opportunities there.

  “And you want to hold it long?”

  He nods.

  “Tell me about it.” Maybe this is just what I need to take my mind off a certain someone, a problem to solve.

  He glances around. “Speak freely? Here?”

  What the hell did he just bring into my office? I arch an eyebrow. “You worried about compliance? Do you have research to back this position?”

  He nods. “I can make the research work. It’s a manufacturer. I also have a source—”

  I hold up a finger. “Stop right there. Don’t say another word about that. Think clearly before answering any of my questions.”

  He nods, hastily.

  “What are the concerns?”

  “That the information might not be reliable, and that we may have it prematurely.”

  “For fuck’s sake, make some sense. Forget the information you have from your source. The fundamentals. What’s the problem with the business?”

  “They should experience a boom in growth over the next few weeks, even before a certain announcement is made. We won’t have any way to monitor that, to show it’s why we made the investment. And the, umm, s-word I’m not supposed to talk about, might be full of shit.”

  I lean back in my chair. “What kind of signs would foreshadow the growth before an announcement like this. What would that look like?”

  The PM has stayed stone quiet, but says, “It’s a bad idea. I tried to tell him. It’s risky and borderline—”

  I hold up a finger. “Enough. I want to hear. Maybe we can solve this problem without exposing ourselves.”

  The PM paces back and forth, glaring at the analyst like he can’t believe he got him into this shit.

  “Usual signs before expansion, umm, hiring more workers, maybe some renovations to the factory building.”

  I stand up and walk over to my window, staring out at the Chicago skyline. Solving problems is what got me into this business, and it’s the only thing I enjoy. Right now, the only thing that makes me feel alive even close to the way Meadow does, is this. “How is their relationship with the government?”

  “Favorable, but that’s hearsay and can change at any moment. Can’t be guaranteed.”

  “Sure.” I nod. “It’s high risk and they like to manipulate numbers over there. Less regulation. What’s the market cap on this company?”

  “Projected five billion in the Chinese manufacturing sector, lots of room for growth.”

  Then, the plan all comes together at once.

  I point at the portfolio manager. “BM Satellite.”

  “What?” He looks at me like I’m nuts.

  “We have a fifty-five percent stake in the private satellite company.”

  He looks around nervously, then says, “Okay? I’m not seeing—”

  Lipsy walks in just as I start to say something. “What’s up, boss?”

  “Perfect timing.” I point at him. “Someone who will get it. Chinese manufacture play, big news coming in next few weeks, should be growth activity before a large announcement we’re not supposed to know about, BM Satellites. Take it from there.” I wave the other two off with a flippant hand.

  Lipsy blinks for a second, then opens his eyes and a Cheshire smile forms on his face. “Fucking genius.” He turns to the other two. “Get your goddamn heads out of your asses and get the satellites pointed at the motherfucking factory so we can monitor the parking lot for an increase in truck activity, cars in the parking lot, and renovations to the building.” He puts an arm around both their necks and leads them out of the office. “We’re about to be some fucking voyeurs looking up Chinese skirts, then we’ll bukkake profits all over the firm’s bank account. Talk to me about capital acquisition strategy.”

  I try not to laugh. Fucking Lipsy. I’ve never met anyone like him.

  My phone rings and I answer.

  “Covington.”

  “When you coming back to Manhattan and leaving that Podunk Midwest shithole?”

  Bennett Cooper. I don’t mind him as much as my lawyer friends do, but he’s too entrenched in sophistication and the old way of doing things. Never been my style, even if I leverage him to keep the Collins brothers motivated to keep my business.

  “Cooper. When are you going to get with the twenty-first century? You’re analog in a digital age.” Most people would get pissed if I said that to them. I don’t know if Cooper ever gets angry, he just gets even.

  “If you say so. We’ll see.”

  “Look, you know the deal. I have personal ties to the Collins brothers, and it’s not like your legal representation offers me any advantages. Plus, they’re in town. I can go get in their face if they fuck up.”

  “True. Just think about it. You’re always welcome back here at the firm.”

  “We’ve been down this road. I’m worth more than just my business. Remember all those people who would flock back with me? That’s worth more than an occasional phone call and ridiculous posturing.”

  He pauses for a moment. “Things are in play. I’d hate for you to be on the wrong side of it.”

  Interesting.

  I’m sure he’s up to something. I don’t really have time to deal with petty law firm beefs, but I’ve told the C
ollins brothers a million times to keep their heads on a swivel, and to worry about this man. If they don’t listen, it’s their own fault.

  Regardless, I need to make a few things clear to this pompous asshole. “I hope it’s nothing that would affect my bottom line. That might upset me more than a little.”

  He laughs like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Of course not.”

  “Well then, you know the deal. Offer me better services at a lower rate, and we can set a meeting. If not, I have shit to do.”

  “Just giving a heads up. I know the Collins brothers are your friends, but they stole from me. You know I can’t allow that.”

  “First, I’m not your property, and they beat you at capitalism. That’s not theft. Personally, I don’t give a fuck. I’ve made myself clear. Don’t give a shit what goes on between your firms unless it affects my bottom line. If you cost me money, I will fuck you up. I don’t give a shit what name is on your building, or how old it is. I’ll reduce it to ash. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” I hang up the phone.

  Fucking asshole.

  I do my best to clear my thoughts.

  Now, let me think of how I can piss Meadow off even more. I need to force her to come talk to me.

  As a plan begins to form, Lipsy walks in with his usual ornery grin.

  “The Chinese play should put our fund at ten billion by third quarter. I’ve got a dick harder than DC Henry Cavill.”

  I try not to laugh, but it’s impossible. “Man of Steel, nice.”

  “Indeed.” He walks to the window and says, “Fuck, almost forgot why I came in here. The Parker project high rise. What do you want to do with it? Someone said we were scrapping. Need to make arrangements.”

  Just then, it comes to me. “You know what—” I pause and rub my chin. “Stall it for a few days to create an air of uncertainty.”

  He whips around. “You’re thinking about keeping it on the books? It’s a fucking money pit now, bringing down numbers. Let’s dump it. You know I like my book virgin fresh, without blemishes.”

  The cost is immaterial to me, even though it might fuck up a couple portfolios downstairs. Those are bonus-based for the employees. They won’t be happy. I’ll make it up to them, even though they won’t like it. “Do it how I said. I have reasons. Ensure people the metrics won’t affect their comp.”

  “Done.” He walks off down to the bullpen.

  This will definitely piss Meadow off.

  As far as I’m concerned, she deserves the stress after her little outburst at my mansion. I’ll still give her what she wants, she’s just going to have to work a little harder for it. Most importantly, she’s going to have to come see me.

  I lean back and kick my feet up on my desk.

  Now, it’s just a waiting game until I get to see those honey-brown eyes again.

  Meadow Carlson

  I storm into Wells Covington’s hedge fund offices on a mission.

  This goddamn son of a bitch. I’ve about had it. I don’t have time to be dealing with this distraction, no matter how good he looks in a suit. He made a verbal agreement, a legally binding contract, and he’s going to honor it, or I’ll rip his fucking head off and go bowling with it.

  An incredibly attractive brunette in a designer dress stands up at a receptionist desk.

  “Where is he?” I borderline growl the words at her before I can stop myself.

  “Ma’am I’m going to call security if—”

  “Let her up.” Covington looks down from over a balcony, smirking right at me like he’s been waiting for this.

  My face goes red when I look up at him, leaned over a railing like he’s lording over a bunch of serfs from on high. The visual in front of me only heats my blood more. It’s the perfect representation of this country. A rich, oligarch, ruling elite sitting up on another level, away from all the working-class people, toiling away to create more wealth and power for himself.

  The woman in front of me looks pissed but motions to the stairs with her head.

  I fly past her to the steps. Why does he have such a beautiful woman as his receptionist? Does he have something going on with her?

  Oh my God, who are you right now?

  I know these problems are all compounding right now, and I need to take a step back, assess, come up with a game plan. But between my mom and this, I’m about to lose it. Every hedge fund I’ve been to has a model receptionist, because that’s who rich white men love to be greeted by when they come to do business. I know this, but still. Everything feels like some conspiracy with Wells Covington, and I can’t tell if it’s rooted in reality, or just my own bias at play. It eats at me every time I’m around him, because reality and the things he says are so contradictory from everything I’ve experienced in life.

  I get to the top of the stairs, ready to lay into Covington, and he walks off, toward a conference room, turning his back on me. I huff out a sigh and chase after him, trying not to run because he has such freakishly long strides.

  Goddamn it. It’s like he’s trying to piss me off on purpose.

  The door barely shuts behind me before I’m up in his face. “What the fuck?”

  “Just breathe.” He holds a hand up and mocks me with a condescending tone.

  I know he doesn’t know about my mom or any of my personal issues, but I can’t help myself. “Did you just tell me to calm down?”

  He retreats and takes a tiny step back, but it looks like he wants to smile as he does it. “I didn’t say those words, I merely suggested you—”

  “Perform a bodily function that’s involuntary, you smarmy prick.”

  “Smarmy prick?” He feigns innocence, then smiles. “Well, that’s a new one to add to the list.”

  I point a finger at him. “Don’t do that. Give me my building. We had a deal.”

  He walks off and pours himself a glass of water from a little pitcher on a table near the wall. “I will. It’s in flux.”

  “In flux?”

  He shrugs. “Limbo. Purgatory. You know how this goes. Legal matters. I don’t have to explain the intricacies of real estate transactions to you. They can be very tedious.” He stops, like a thought just occurred to him. “Actually, you used these same tactics to cost me money on the project you’re about to take ownership of, did you not?”

  “You son of a bitch.” I start toward him, teeth clenched.

  He holds up a hand. “Where’s this coming from?”

  “What?”

  He sets the water aside and waves a hand up and down, as if he’s scanning my entire body. “This. It’s a gross overreaction.”

  “I’ll show you overreaction.” I hate that I’m doing this, acting defensive. It’s not in my DNA. I want control and I want to go full bore, always have the upper hand. I really do need to calm down, but he doesn’t get to say it. I decide when I calm down. Not him. Especially after everything that’s happened this week.

  Staring at him only makes it worse. He’s so broody and ridiculously hot in the suit he has on. He looks—intimidating. I’m not afraid of him and the way he conducts business, though. I’m afraid of how much I like him, despite everything else. I don’t want to, but I do.

  It only pisses me off more. I’m on the edge of a breakdown. I feel it looming on the horizon, just waiting for an opportunity to strike, and when I crack, I’m going to crack hard.

  I’m emotional. You should never get emotional about money or an investment decision. That being said, just sitting there, staring at Covington—rage consumes me. It mostly has nothing to do with him. He just lit the match with this stunt, pulling me away from my mother’s side to deal with it.

  “Never get emotional about money or an investment decision.” The words ring through my head, reminding me of the man who gave me that advice, and how much I hate his guts—and now he’s showed back up in my life.

  The boiling point hits, and I just snap.

  I take two hands and shove Covington against the table.


  White-hot anger fills my veins. My father I hate just showed up, I’m about to lose my mom, now Covington’s threatening the building that means everything to me. I can’t take it anymore.

  He stumbles back a few steps and hits the table, jarring him a little.

  Shit. Shit. Did I really just do that?

  His eyes go wide. It wasn’t anything that could hurt him. He’s six four for crying out loud and a million times stronger than me.

  His shock doesn’t last long. His eyes narrow on me. Fucking good. He’s off his game now. I’m finally back in control of the situation.

  Not to mention, it felt good. Really good.

  He recovers, and I go to shove him again because I want to feel an ounce of that control again. I want to take everything out on him, use him as a damn punching bag.

  This time, he catches my wrists and our mouths fuse together.

  The moment it happens, a warmth spreads through my limbs, and I latch on to him.

  The kiss is amazing, and ten times hotter than the other night. I kiss him as hard as I can, doing whatever I can to transfer everything, this huge weight on my shoulders, into him. He bites my lip, maybe hard enough to draw blood. I don’t care. The pain, the pleasure, it all distracts me from reality, and it’s just what I need.

  I just want to feel good, for a few moments longer. I need a break, some kind of release from reality, even if it’s for a few seconds.

  His hand goes to my ass and he squeezes hard and thrusts his hips into me. I feel his hard dick up against my stomach, and I dig my nails into his shoulders through his suit jacket.

  What the fuck am I doing? I’m supposed to hate him right now.

  I don’t know, but I can’t help but think about the fact it feels right. This. It makes sense. In a world of chaos and walls crumbling down around me, right here, for a few moments, I feel safe, protected.

  My brain finally wins out, and I shove him away from me and wipe my mouth with my wrist, as if it erased what I just did.

  We stand there, glaring at each other, two intelligent people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing.

  “I’m tired of these fucking games. You want the truth? Why I want this so bad?”

 

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