by Alex Wolf
I succeed, easily, and reach down the front of his jeans and grip his thick cock.
His eyes roll back a little when I stroke it in my palm.
He groans. “Who’s gonna make us late now?”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t take long.”
Covington’s eyes dart down to mine. “That a promise?”
I nod. “Of course.” I fall to my knees and yank his jeans and briefs down his ass, freeing his dick.
I take my time, staring up at him because I’m pretty sure men enjoy it. That’s something I learned a long time ago. They like acts of submission, someone kneeling before them, handing over some of their power. I don’t mind, though. I find it to be an act of trust, and that I do value. He definitely goes down on me way more than I go down on him, so it’s only fair.
I’ve never really done it exactly like this with anyone else. I’ve sucked a few dicks, but not on my knees looking up all helpless.
With Covington, the dynamic is different than anything I’ve experienced. I doubt he ever purposely gives up a position of dominance or power with anyone else. It’s not how to operate and be successful in the finance world. But he does it for me sometimes. Puts himself in vulnerable positions, like meeting his friends. He didn’t have to do that.
So, I don’t mind doing this for him.
The moment my tongue strokes the tip, he groans even louder.
A guttural, “Fuck,” comes from deep in his throat, and it’s so damn sexy.
I love that I can drive him as crazy as he drives me.
I start to take him into my mouth, when my phone rings. I’ll be damned if my Apple Watch doesn’t flash ‘Mom’ across it.
If it were anyone else, I’d ignore it.
I stop immediately.
Covington’s eyes widen like you fucking serious?
I hold up a hand and try to apologize with my eyes. “I’m so sorry, but it’s an actual emergency.”
Covington glares for a second, then says, “Fine.”
Now, I’m in a mad scramble. I need to figure out how to take this without him hearing anything. He’s a fucking hawk. He’ll deduce half the conversation and probably has a ridiculous security system all throughout the house. I bet he has videos of us fucking on them, but that’s the least of my concerns right now.
I feel bad, but I walk outside before I take out my phone. She wouldn’t call me if something weren’t wrong.
And I’m forty minutes away from the city.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Wells Covington
Meadow disappeared when she took the emergency phone call, and now I can’t get hold of her. I feel like I’m slowly going crazy, worrying about her, but I have to keep it together. I went and got the tux by myself, and made my best guess on a dress for Meadow, even though now I’m starting to doubt if she’s even going to go to the wedding.
I know I’m probably being ridiculous. She wasn’t mean, we didn’t have a fight, she just said it was an emergency and bounced. I’m definitely worried. Who wouldn’t be? I want to make sure she’s okay. That is a rational thing, right?
I should give her a few more hours before going off the deep end. I know I should.
Now, I walk into The Gage to meet up with Dex, Cole, Harlow, and Abigail. The fucking fifth wheel. I’ve never been the fifth wheel in my life. I do my best to tamp down whatever this feeling is in my chest, this emptiness in the pit of my stomach that could easily turn into rage if I don’t hear her voice soon.
To make things worse, Bennett Cooper keeps blowing up my damn phone. He does it again right as I walk up to them. There’s no way I’ll answer it in front of any of these guys. They all hate his guts, and I’m sure there are always conspiracy theories floating around that I’ll go back to Cooper’s law firm, and, inadvertently, a lot of their Wall Street clients would follow behind.
On a normal day, these things would be a top priority to address, but now, they’re meaningless. I just want to know Meadow is okay.
How’d I go from about to get a blowjob from the woman of my dreams to jack shit in a matter of hours? I’ve never even lost on an investment this bad.
Dex’s eyebrows rise when he sees me alone. “Where’s your other half?”
Play it off. Don’t let him know you’re rattled. “How should I know? I have some independence, unlike the two boys in my presence who call themselves men.” I fake a laugh, hoping they buy it.
Harlow rolls her eyes. “Yes, you’re the epitome of refinement.”
I give her a little nod, as if she meant it. “Thank you.”
Abigail, surprisingly, seems the only one who has picked up on what’s happening here. She reads people less in a business way, and more of an emotional way, I’ve noticed. In my experience, she’s a decent paralegal and a hard worker, but nobody picks up on social cues like her outside of work.
Dex never knows when to shut up. “Seriously, where is she?”
Abigail nudges him with her elbow, and he gives her a look like what?
My eyes meet Abigail’s, and I say, “It’s all right, really.”
“You sure?” She doesn’t look convinced.
Finally, I just tell them everything that happened, sans the almost blowjob.
I don’t know why I’m oversharing like this. It’s so unlike me. I talk personal stuff with Cole and Dex on rare occasions, but definitely not in front of other women.
“I’m sure she’ll call,” says Abigail. “If it was an emergency, she probably just can’t right now.”
Dex and Cole look like they have no idea what to say, and Harlow looks oblivious, like she couldn’t care less. I don’t blame her. I would be too if I was gushing about these problems in front of myself.
I don’t even know who the fuck I am right now.
“Uhh, yeah, man. She’ll call. I’m sure there’s an explanation,” says Cole, and I can tell he really means it. He’s trying.
Still, it feels patronizing. I feel pity, and I fucking hate it. I don’t need anyone to pity me. I’m a goddamn billionaire with a fantastic life. My problems pale in comparison to a regular, working-class person. I’m blessed to have been born with an intellect and drive, and I don’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. I’ve done bad things, wrecked companies, destroyed careers, all to get what I wanted, just to amass more—shit.
If anyone has a front row ticket to hell for their time on earth, it’s me, and I deserve it. Fortunately, I don’t believe there’s a hell. I believe we all end up nothing but fucking dirt one day.
I start to say something, when my phone rings again. “Excuse me,” I say, much harsher than intended.
It’s no secret I’m slowly morphing to pissed off every second Meadow is away from me, possibly hurting, and Bennett Cooper is pouring gas on that fire.
I walk outside onto the sidewalk, partially so nobody hears my conversation and partially because I need to breathe some fresh air. I’m sure they all assume it’s Meadow, so no questions are asked.
That’s what’s pissing me off even more too. I’m waiting on a phone call from her, and this son of a bitch keeps getting my hopes up then dashing them when I see his name.
I swipe my phone and bring it to my ear. “The fuck do you want? I’m busy.”
“Whoa, let’s take about twenty percent off the top there.”
“Fuck you, I’m waiting on an important phone call.” I shouldn’t have even given him that amount of information. Meadow is driving me mad. I feel so out of control, like I want to lash out at the world.
“Nothing could be more important than my phone calls.”
He’s such an arrogant prick. I know I’m not one to talk, especially with the company I keep, but he takes it to a new level.
“What do you want, Cooper? What’s this game you’re playing?”
“Not a game. It’s simple. You know what I want. Stop fucking around and come home.”
“Home? My home is in Chicago. Manhattan bores me. You bore me with your antiquated, st
uffy, repugnant bullshit. You reek of desperation, unable to grasp the fact you may be aging out of the game, and you’re what, thirty-eight? Flushing your family name down the toilet, first generation to not grow the firm’s revenues.”
He really didn’t deserve all of that, but he’s a big boy. Take a fucking hint.
All I want to do is text Meadow for the hundredth time and make sure everything is okay. I’d settle for calling her just to hear her voice on the voicemail. I’m mad for this woman. Everything was going perfectly, exactly how I wanted, until it wasn’t.
Now, it’s like bugs are crawling all over my skin. I’m obsessed with her.
“I see you have personal problems; your house is out of order. I won’t contribute to that any longer. But just know one thing, Covington—”
I scoff. “What’s that?”
“I wasn’t lying. Circumstances are changing, and I’m giving you an opportunity. You’ll be back.”
“Knock sixty percent off my fee and we’ll talk, Cooper.”
He laughs. “Won’t need to. You’ll see.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.
I glare at my phone. “Fuck you,” I say to no one in particular.
I look around at the city, my city. The skyscrapers I’ve known since I was a child. The hustle, the money to be made everywhere I look. The promise of opportunity. Manhattan is fun, but this, this place is woven through my soul.
Then, I stare through the window at my best friends with their fiancées. They’re all just so—happy. It’s a happiness that can’t be found in wealth and excess. I never knew it until I met Meadow. Now, I want nothing else.
I’d give up my entire empire for a few more minutes of it with her.
I know I’m turning this whole evening into some existential threat, blowing these circumstances way out of proportion. My brain knows this, but my heart doesn’t. I’m a fucking wreck.
It’s right before the third act of a movie, and the tensions are amping up, the conflict is at a fever pitch. Usually, I would find this exciting, exhilarating. It would be a challenge. I can handle those things when it’s a war against my brain.
My heart, it seems, is another matter entirely. It feels like it’s too much and makes me wonder if I’m even worthy of a relationship with someone like Meadow. If I crack under this kind of pressure, how could I ever endure an actual relationship? How could she count on me in a time of crisis? Things are always great during the peaks, but what about the valleys? There are always valleys, and they’re messy as fuck. What if I lose my shit at something like this before we’re even serious?
That’s the thing, though. I know it’s early for her. But not for me. I’m serious about her; have been from the day we met, when she destroyed a twenty-five-million-dollar wall and completely turned my world upside down.
I stand there, staring through the window.
Dexter cracks a joke and even Harlow laughs at it.
The other half of the conflict boils up inside me even more. Bennett Cooper is up to something, and I can’t see his next move clearly through the Meadow fog that clouds my brain.
I already know whatever he’s up to will tear this family in front of me apart. In Cooper’s mind, the Collins family stole from him. Stole his clients, his pride, damaged his ego. He’s a dangerous man, and the Collins brothers started a blood feud, with me at the center of it.
There’s no way I’ll be able to dodge the battle as they rip each other apart.
That’s all this is right now, with Meadow and with the brothers.
It’s a calm before a storm.
Meadow Carlson
“Give me a fucking update.” I should not be talking to the lady at the front desk this way. In my mind, I know she has no idea. She’s just a clerical worker.
I think part of it is guilt. I wasn’t there and I should’ve been. I was on my knees for Wells Covington when Mom collapsed into unconsciousness.
“Ma’am, she’s in surgery with the best neurosurgeon in the country. That’s all I can tell you at this time. They’ll be out to update when they’re finished.”
I shake my head, trying to get out of the funk I’m in. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It happens. I understand, it’s an emotional time. We’ll do whatever we can to help.”
Now, I really feel like an asshole when she’s nice to me, but the rage returns when I glance over at my father, in his damn ankle bracelet as it blinks like crazy, pleading with someone on my mother’s phone.
“It was an emergency, I swear. She went unconscious, and I was the only one there.” He glances over at me when he says it.
Oh, fuck you, asshole.
The fact he’s telling the truth pisses me off even more. I know I’m mad at myself, but I want to take it all out on him.
I look down at my phone, and Covington calls for the fifth time. I slam my finger down on the ignore button.
The worst part is I want to answer so badly. I want to let him in a little, but I just can’t. Not to mention, I’m scared of what I’ll say to him, how I’ll treat him right now. Him and my father are the reason I’m in this position, one of them pushing me away, the other one pulling me close. I shouldn’t want to be with Covington right now, and I hate myself even more for letting myself get entwined in whatever we are. Now, he’s part of the shelter project and I have to work with him no matter what.
My life was so much simpler when it didn’t involve two men.
Dad finally hangs up and our eyes meet.
He walks toward me. “I may need you to speak to my parole officer.”
I let out the most sarcastic laugh possible. It’s not even a laugh, more like a surprised gasp. “Right.”
“Meadow, please?”
I try to hold back, but I don’t see how I can. I just can’t stop myself. I lower my voice so I don’t cause a scene. “I should’ve been there. I would’ve been there if you hadn’t fucking come home.”
He glances around, as if checking to see if anyone can hear, then out of nowhere grabs me by the arm and pulls me over to a hallway.
I yank my arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me or I will call your parole officer.”
His brows narrow. “Stop acting like a child. This is serious.”
“Me? I’m not the one with an ankle bracelet flashing and a goddamn parole officer.”
He looks up at the ceiling, then his eyes land back on me. “We don’t have time to worry about our petty differences.” His eyes well up a little. “It was—” He chokes up for a second. “I’m worried about her. Really scared.”
My emotions are all over the place right now. I’m scared too. Scared shitless, but I have no desire to share my feelings with the asshole in front of me. The man who let down our entire family and went away to prison.
“Fuck you. You gave up the right to care about us when you did what you did.”
He can’t even look at me. He just says, “I fucked up. Bad. But I’m not giving up. I’m trying.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear his bullshit excuses. “What the hell happened?”
He wipes a tear from one of his eyes. In another life, when I was a girl, I would’ve cared, but not now. I don’t even know this man in front of me.
“I was getting her some water. She shrieked. Clutched her head. Like she had unbearable pain, then just went unconscious. She was still breathing, but it was like, like the pain was so intense it just made her pass out.”
My heart pinches in my chest. “What’d you do?”
He stares at me like it’s a ridiculous question. “Hauled her to the car and drove here as fast as I could. Called you on the way.”
I search for anything I can to be pissed off at him about, even though he did everything right. He probably drove over a hundred and still managed to endanger them both by calling me on the phone, just to avoid me lashing out at him for not calling soon enough.
“So, she’s in surgery?”
He nods. “They rushed
her back the second we came in. Haven’t seen her since.” He looks like he’s about to collapse, like prison has stolen his soul and the situation is about to take him too. He’s pale, like a ghost. Just skin draped over a skeleton, barely holding on.
Part of me, in my brain, plays over and over on a loop, wondering why it can’t be him, and why it has to be Mom back there. I know I shouldn’t think that way, that it’s wrong to wish that on another person. It makes me feel awful, but it’s true. It should be him. He’s the one who deserves it, not her.
I’m sure he would trade spots with her in an instant if he could.
“Can we just go sit down and wait?”
I glare at him, then glance over at the waiting room before I finally shrug and walk over there, leaving him behind.
He hurries after me.
The next three hours of my life are the most excruciating ever. It’s like a nightmare.
Dad tries to make small talk a few times, then shuts up when I just stare at him.
His leg bounces up and down, the same nervous tic I had as a child but mastered. I thought he had too. He’s the one who taught me how to beat it. You can’t sit at a boardroom table and talk to investors with your damn knee shaking all over the place.
After the fourth time he attempts to make conversation, I turn to him. “We’re not doing this. Playing catch up. Rehashing old times. I’ve spent years purging those memories from my brain.”
He shakes his head. “I know I messed up. Really bad. But I kind of hoped you’d at least hold on to the good times, and remember that about me, even if you—”
“It’s an all-inclusive package, Dad. You don’t get to be the best, throw it all away, and then I just forgive and forget. That would be lying to myself, for your sake. It goes against everything you ever taught me.”
He looks straight forward and nods. “I know. But I’m glad you remember the lesson.”
I know exactly what he just did. Pointed out the fact I didn’t purge everything, even though I told him I did.