Chapter One
Levi
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t get what I want.
I’m an asshole in every sense of the word.
I don’t deny it, and I don’t under any circumstances apologize for it. It’s who I am, and if you don’t like it, tough.
I live my life the way I do business.
Confident, shrewd, and calculated.
Even though I don’t need to work, I do. It keeps my mind occupied. I’m one of the investors in Four Father’s Freight, which allows me something other than my wayward teenage son to worry about. Also, when I’m in constant meetings, dealing with millions of dollars in contracts, I forget the day I said goodbye to my wife. She didn’t leave me. Not by choice anyway. I spent six months by her side as cancer slowly riddled its way through her body and she gave up the fight.
That was eight years ago.
Now, I’m an asshole who fucks anything with a set of tits and a sweet, tight cunt. Yes, I admit it. My friends know who I am, what I do, and I make no apology for it. I’ve decided to enjoy my life, no connections, just pleasure. And having a pretty woman kneeling for me, ready to take my dick in her mouth is all I want and need.
The day I buried Abigail was the day I locked my heart away. The only thing that matters more to me in life besides the business is my son. Ethan is eighteen now, off to college soon, and even though we never see eye to eye, I love him.
He looks just like his mother. And perhaps that’s why I’ve become closed off. When he looks at me with her hazel eyes, it’s no longer with love and affection, it’s disdain. I know he is angry, for his mother dying, for his father being a dick, and for life in general.
I want him to study something worthy of a career, but he’s fought me tooth and nail. His interests are like this mother’s—art, painting, sculpture. He’s always been creative, even from a young age, but that’s not going to put food on the table when he gets married and has a family to support.
Strolling into the office, I notice Eric’s door is closed. His voice booms through the wood, which causes me to wonder whether he’s talking to one of his son’s or a client. I don’t know how he deals with four boys; I can barely handle Ethan.
Shoving the door to my office open, I step inside to find Kristyn, my assistant, sitting at my desk, jotting notes on the small pad I keep at my computer. I call her mine because I was the one who found her, hired her, and showed her the ropes of how our business operates. Even though she handles the bookings and meeting schedules for all four of the partners, she’s still mine.
Her long, glossy chestnut hair is pinned in a loose bun at the back of her head and small, black-rimmed glasses are perched on her button nose. She looks like a librarian with that innocent face and red apple cheeks, but when she bites down on her lower lip in concentration, my mind fills with images I shouldn’t be having about my assistant.
Her three-month stint with Four Father’s has been good. She’s proven herself. When I interviewed her, she had a storm brewing in her pretty blue eyes, something hidden, and I decided then I’d make her my own personal project. I wanted to know what this almost nerdy girl was hiding beneath her prim exterior.
She may seem sweet and innocent, but she has sass that shocks the shit out of me at times. And for that, I respect her. Working with four alpha men can’t be easy, but she’s taken to it easily and gives as much as she gets.
I’ve been dying to bend her over my desk since she first walked into my office, not only because she’s beautiful—she is that and so much more—but I want to learn about this little twenty-one-year-old.
“Good morning,” I interrupt her train of thought, and her gaze snaps to mine in surprise. Big blue eyes, the color of the sky on a clear day, peer up at me.
“Mr. Kingston,” she purrs my name. I know it’s not done purposely, but there’s a hint of need in her voice linked directly to my cock. “I was...I just finished your list for today.”
She rises. Her blouse, a soft shade of blue matching her eyes, looks almost see-through, and I can’t stop my gaze from dropping to the lace bra cupping her pert little tits.
She’s everything a man could want and need. A pretty fuck toy for pleasure. I wonder how well she’d do being ordered around in the bedroom. Or bent over my desk, perhaps, while her tight, little cunt pulses around every inch of my cock.
“Would you like a coffee?” she questions while rounding my desk. That’s when I finally get a good look at her. Dressed in a black pencil skirt stopping just above her knees, she looks professional, yet utterly sinful. The material hugs her thighs and hips, taunting me from where she’s standing.
Her shoes are higher than what’s considered appropriate for work, but I can’t deny how much I like the way they elongate her legs and show off her toned calves. Imagining her in just those heels and nothing else…my cock stirs behind the zipper of my slacks once more.
“Please,” I finally respond, stalking by her toward my desk. A hint of lavender plumes around me, and I inhale the scent of her perfume, long and deep. She doesn’t need to know she affects me. There’s no rule stating I can’t date or fuck her, but I’ve learned mixing business with pleasure is a no-no.
She doesn’t say anything more before strolling from my office, her hips swaying left to right. There’s a sensuality about her that brings out a primal need within me. I’ve been spending more hours at the office than I need just to see her each day.
Once I’m alone, I sit back and turn on the computer. The screen illuminates and reminders pop up, each with a ding, until I notice the last one. I’m meeting one of my biggest clients, Brent Masterson, tomorrow evening at Sizzle, one of the Michelin star restaurants downtown. Dinner and drinks with one of the country’s most influential men.
As much as I’d rather spend the evening at home with a drink and cigar, this is an important client. His transport business will allow us to make use of his fleet for certain areas of the country.
Once he’s signed the deal, there’ll be more media surrounding us than a celebrity at the Oscar’s ceremony. And there’s nothing like media to skyrocket attention on the company.
My door flies open, and I glance up, finding Eric looking overly confident with a smirk on his face.
“Hey, Pearson,” I greet my best friend and partner. “What was that in there?” I nudge my chin toward the door, referring to his earlier heated phone conversation.
He sighs, flopping into the chair opposite my desk. “Brock. He’s too old for his age.”
“Tell me about it. Ethan’s decided he’s going to take a gap year without my knowledge. I overheard him on the phone last night.” I can’t help griping about my son. I’ve given him everything he’s asked for, but each time I think I’m making some headway, I lose my footing. It’s been like that since he turned thirteen.
“Join me tonight? I’m meeting Sanders and his associate for a business powwow,” he informs me with a salacious grin on his face. Settling himself into the seat opposite my desk, he continues. “I told him you might be there. The last time we had drinks together, he signed that five-mil deal.”