It’s Just Business

Leaning back in my chair, I take a moment and ponder my office. There are floor to ceiling windows, an Italian leather sofa against one wall that allows me a view out of said windows, and a commanding desk that sweeps around in a forty-five-degree angle in order to give me multiple work areas. I could easily run my empire from one end and fuck at the other and that would be just fine. No need to throw anything off the surface or disturb a single sheet of paper. I’ve yet to enjoy that feature. Truthfully, I’ve never considered it until this moment, and I’m not entirely sure what brought the idea to mind now.

You know, my subconscious whispers slyly.

More than anything, my office drips of new wealth, because that’s exactly what I have and what I am.

There’s no pedigree, no photos of well-known families. No photos at all, in fact. There are no antique bookcases with texts and expensive books. It’s rather spacious, and as my assistant put it, ‘coldly masculine but obviously expensive’. Does that describe me or my office? Probably both, which is exactly the way I like it.

The hints of my work are on my desk, the trio of monitors that can, at any time, feed me information from all the markets across the world.

But as I loosen my tie, I’m not focused on the feeds. I’m focused on the text message I got five minutes ago on my phone from Raven. I’m in. What time should I be ready on Friday? I assume you’ll pick me up?

Her pluckiness makes me smile. She’s accepting my offer, while at the same time having enough confidence in herself and her feminine charm to expect that I would go to her place instead of making her come to me.

It’s good. I like that about her.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

I’m just about to message her back and tell her to give me her home address when my phone rings. The screen reads Austin Rogers, and the timing of his call would seem like a sign if I believed in that sort of thing.

In a world where ninety percent of people range from ‘flaming asshole’ to ‘minor-league irritant,’ Austin’s the rarity.

He’s a no-bullshit person. And that makes him one of my only friends.

I answer it. “Austin.”

“Dylan, what’s shaking, man?” Austin greets me, sounding pleased with himself. “How’s the world’s best money maker?”

“And why are you interested in my money maker?” I reply, smirking at the old, silly joke we’ve repeated dozens of times.

“Because it pays for my vacation house,” Austin answers with a laugh, completing the script. “But seriously, how’s life going? Are you going to the Faulkner Fuckfest on Friday?”

He assumes he knows the answer, and normally, he’d be right. But not this time. “Actually, I am. In fact, I’m bringing someone.”

“You?” Austin says in utter shock. “Why? And when did that happen?”

“What do you mean, why?” I ask, and Austin’s knowing hum on the other side reminds me that he knows my history. I haven’t had a significant other in a few years. I’ve been too focused on work, and it’s been hard to trust anyone after what happened with Olivia.

“Just surprised is all,” Austin says and then pesters for more information.

“Well, it’s not exactly what you’re thinking,” I admit, acknowledging that he makes it sound like I’m bringing a date whom I’m on the verge of pledging my undying fealty to, which is not the case. “It’s more of a networking situation. Her name’s Raven Hill, and I interviewed her a few days ago for an open position. She’s not a fit for me.” The thought trails off because in all honesty, she would have been a great candidate. “But I know that Ollie will be there. I want to introduce them.”

“Hmm… Raven Hill?” he echoes, trying to place the name’s familiarity. “As in, Evan Faulkner’s girl?”

Anger simmers inside me at the thought of someone like Raven, beautiful and smart, being with that fucking snake. I didn’t consider others would even realize her history. I really have been keeping my nose to the grindstone and staying out of people’s personal lives a bit too much recently, it seems. “You know her?” I ask with all trace of humor gone.

“I know of her,” Austin replies. “She’s a hustler, does some day trading on her own to build her own portfolio… absolute stunner, too. But it sounds like you know that already.”

My hand clenches on my desk, my knuckles turning white, and I crack them as I steady myself. “I know all of that, and more,” I concede. I wouldn’t typically share intel with anyone, but Austin is different. And this situation is unique. I could use his insight to see if there might be an angle I’m missing or gossip I’m unaware of. “I had an interview scheduled with her earlier this week. Five minutes before, Faulkner strolls into Lionfish, drops a ‘break up’ bomb on her, and then smirks when she called him out on cheating with his assistant.”

He clucks his tongue. “In the middle of Lionfish?” Austin repeats, sighing a humorless huff. “The fucking balls on that bastard.”

Austin recognizes that of everything Evan did that day, the most surprising was that he dared to enter my sanctum. For all his standing in the finance industry, Lionfish is not a place he goes, nor is welcome.

“Agreed.” I shove the memory down and focus on the event. On having her on my arm… on what could happen between the two of us. On watching that cocky smirk fall from Evan’s face when he sees me with Raven. “Anyway… she’ll be with me.”

“It sounds like there’s more to it than just trying to get her a spot with Ollie,” Austin surmises as if reading my mind.

I stop myself from answering harshly, reminding myself that he’s being cautious and looking out for me. My thoughts go back to the fact that I’ve known Austin for over a decade. We met at one of the innumerable socialization events that go on around the Financial District. I was trying to make my way in the world, a little too naive, a little too eager, when I spotted Austin standing out among the sea of suits and ties.

He was like me, hungry and not yet firmly established. His demeanor was relaxed, yet confident, and he commanded attention without trying. I envied him, if I’m honest. I had to hide every insecurity. I had to mimic a wealthy class I was very aware I wasn’t a part of.

Most of the men at that event weren’t like us. They didn’t need to network because they were born into the network. They didn’t need to hustle because their daddy or their uncle or whoever already owned a firm.

Austin wasn’t like that. I could see that he was different in the same way I was, but rather than try to forcefully fit in with the others the way I was prone to do, he made them want to be his friend. There was a rawness to him, a street-smart edge that was impossible to miss, and his charisma created a vortex that pulled everyone to him. We struck up a conversation, and I quickly discovered that Austin was a self-made man who had clawed his way to the top through sheer intelligence and willpower alone. I wasn’t the only one who envied him. But for me, it was his couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude. For them, it was the ease of money.

In this world, there’s never enough in a bank account, never enough in the market.

Finances aside, over the years, I’ve found that I respect Austin more than I do most people.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask Austin, cutting him off from whatever the fuck he was saying and addressing his previous question about this being about more than introducing Raven and Ollie.

“You know you can,” Austin says, “but I can already guess, given what I know of her. And you. You wanted to bend her over the table and get back at him?”

“Crude, but… fairly accurate.” Sighing, I admit, “She is a good candidate, and I’m attracted to her, genuinely. The fact that she was wronged by Evan is tempting extra icing on the cake, though.”

It’s a big confession, one I wouldn’t make to anyone but Austin, who knows my backstory as well as I know his.

“To do what with?” he hedges. When I don’t answer, he puts himself in my shoes, likely coming up with some variation of my exact plan, and advises, “Be careful, Dylan. Evan might be a douche, but he’s a Faulkner. He’s powerful. We move in the same circles, and you don’t want to ruffle feathers you can’t afford to soothe.’

I scoff. Does he think I don’t know who the Faulkners are? I’m more aware than most of exactly what they’re capable of. ‘I know, but I can’t let Evan get away with what he did.’ It dawns on me that it’s not the first time I’ve said that aloud, but he has gotten away with it for all these years. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do. Maybe now, there is.

Austin pauses for a moment. ‘I get it. But you’ve already won, Dylan. You’re successful, and Evan is on the decline. He’s skating by on his family name, and by the time he’s ready to pass the torch, there won’t be a torch to pass. Just a burned-out matchstick. Don’t do anything to jeopardize that. Don’t get in his way of screwing himself over. Just sit back and watch, enjoy the show. There’s no need to throw kerosene on things now.’

“But it could be fun,” I reply, tapping my thumb rhythmically on the desk as I think through my plan again. If a street scrapper like Austin is saying this is a fight I don’t want to mess with, then he’s probably right, and taking Raven with me is a dangerous proposition. But deep in my gut, I want to see more of Raven. I want to show her that I wasn’t just bullshitting when I said that Evan is a dumbass who made a bad decision, and she can move on from his cruelty, succeeding despite him, not because of him. And I want to see Evan’s grin fall when he realizes that of all possible people, Raven is with me, even if only for the night.

And maybe, just maybe, I want to feel what Austin so bluntly stated—Raven Hill’s legs wrapped around my waist while she moans my name.

It’s admittedly convoluted, revenge and attraction melting into one potent Molotov cocktail, but I’ve never been one to play things safe. With risk comes reward. Without risk, you have nothing. I will simply need to monitor and adjust throughout the evening accordingly, ensuring maximum impact for Raven’s benefit, Evan’s destruction, and my enjoyment of both.

“I already made the invitation, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell Austin. “In the meantime, I’ve got half a dozen meetings on my schedule and three politicians to pay off before the end of the day,” I joke, “So if you’ll excuse me.”

He laughs and tells me he’ll see me at the event before letting me go.

I hang up, knowing that what I’m about to do might not be the smartest thing in the world. I should be focused on work the way I always am.

Instead, I pick up my phone again, texting a reply to Raven before I change my mind. I’ll pick you up at 6. Send me your address.

Austin’s warning resonates with me, though. I’m not sure what to make of Raven or my instant and powerful fascination with her. She’s somehow gotten under my skin in the most intoxicating way possible, and a feeling like that to a man like me… is dangerous.