Floor sixty-five of the Carrero corporation—Executive house. Lexington Avenue, Mid-town Manhattan.
Walking through the building with a brother who was looking decidedly pale with nausea with his ever-present bodyguard, courtesy of his father, Jake felt that familiar ease move back in. The ease of being back in his own building and in control. This was where he excelled in life. This right here, a building apart from his father’s and it was his domain, all business conducted herein was nothing much to do with Giovanni Carrero, just the way he liked it. Jake ran the sports side of the company while Giovanni lorded over the hotels. The grooming line had come to Jake seeing as his face was all over it and he had a million tiny smaller sidelines all being run through Carrero House.
His father had his darker dealings, and sometimes borderline illegal mafia shit, going on and he wanted no part in the old family ties. He’d convinced Arrick to start taking an interest in his side of things; he wanted him working alongside him rather than being pulled into Carrero Tower with the old man. The further he could keep Arrick away from the people his father knew, the better. Besides, Arrick had a good business brain, much like Jake’s, and he could be useful in a couple of mergers and acquisitions lined up in the near future.
Jake ignored the constant flow of female swoons and smiles aimed their way, not so big-headed he didn’t realize his brother was getting attention now he was getting older. Not that he cared, Arrick would soon find out how boring the female attention could get.
Hell, the guy was obviously a looker, they shared DNA after all.
He stifled a yawn in the elevator and shoulder punched Arrick to wake him up a little, his brother’s obvious fatigue was affecting him a little too much, and he needed to look like he was in control. Arrick was still almost slumped in a ball and Jake leaned out and pushed his shades back, slotting them back on top of Arrick’s head carelessly.
“Fuck off,” his brother mumbled under his breath, and the security guard just glared Jake’s way. Jake glared right back, aggression prickling instantly to put him in his place. No paid heavy of his father’s was going to try to lord over his relationship with his kid brother. He was sure he could take him, even in here. The guy was about five-foot-eight max and looked like he could only bench press half of what Jake did. Besides, Jake had years of cage fighting and mixed martial arts training under his belt, he would give it a go even if the guy was ex-military. With the hot Carrero temper of his, he was sure it wouldn’t take much, just another disapproving look his way.
“Get up, dickhead, we’re here.” He was a little too snippy with Arrick and threw him an apologetic frown, his own hangover was there even if it didn’t have the magnitude of Arrick’s and he was feeling rougher than normal. He should have had the sense to kill last night’s plans, he was sure as hell regretting it now.
Who was he kidding? A night of craziness, lots of booze, a blow job in his car from that feisty red-head, and a night of hot and heavy sex back home with Trisha … Trudy … Fuck! Was not something he ever bypassed.
Margo swept out into the foyer in a heavy cloud of Chanel No 9 as soon as the elevator doors opened, like a breath of fresh air, ever-ready with her professional smile and attractive body wrapped in Christian Dior tailoring. She had served him well for years and was the temple of cool and efficient he was looking for in a new assistant. He needed a new Margo to replace her or this was just never going to work in the long run. Previous temporary assistants had either been useless or tried like crazy to fuck him, and he didn’t ever cross work with play. He knew what he was looking for and he hoped to hell she was right with this one, he was in no mood for another repeat of Gloria.
That chick had stripped naked in his office and tried to entice him with some oral before being handed her resume and a swift shove out his door. He was maybe a loose sex mad playboy outside of these four walls but inside was a whole other level of play. Jake was serious in business and serious about never crossing that line.
He smiled back at Margo, his right-hand woman and slid her arm in his affectionately, Arrick humphing and trailing behind with asshole, soldier boy in tow. All sorts of grumbles and complaints going on behind them. Arrick was going to be pointless here today, and Jake wondered if sending him home might be a better idea.
“You look particularly suave today, Jake, a little tired though.” She smiled at him in that motherly way she used in private moments, fixing his collar over his jacket and tutting at his lack of tie. He rolled his eyes as she shook her head.
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