Wicked Lil' Brat: A Secret Baby Romance Page 5

  "Your mother owns a large stake in my company, Kane Price," I say. "So large that according to company bylaws, I had to give her a seat on the Board of Directors. And she's now in the role of Chief Counsel advising all investment matters."

  "But I still don't understand," Becca says. "Why would you have to go and marry her? Where's the connection?"

  "She basically held my hand to the flame."

  Becca laughs. "Give me a break. You're a grown man. Why wouldn't you just say no?"

  "It's not that simple," I say, "and if you've watched the news at all, you'd see I recently got myself in a bit of a fucking mess."

  "That's putting it mildly," she replies.

  "She threatened me. If I didn't agree to marry her, she'd not only bring me down, but the entire company as well. You may not believe me, but I actually give a shit about the thousands of Kane Price employees. Their livelihood is at stake, just as much as mine is."

  "Well, I'm still pissed you didn't tell me," Becca says.

  "It wasn't my choice," I reply. "That night, I had no way of predicting this."

  I can see by the look in Becca's eyes that she still doesn't believe me, but it's too late to convince her any further because I hear Lorna enter the dining room.

  "What wasn't your choice?" she asks, her voice sharper than my steak knife.

  Fuck my life.

  I need to pull something out of my ass to placate her and smooth things over. This should be interesting.

  7

  Becca

  I watch as Mason tries to cover his tracks with my uber bitch of a mother.

  "I was talking about this steak," he says casually. "Becca asked how I could possibly eat my steak this rare, and I just said it wasn't my choice."

  Mason looks at me, his eyes pleading with me to play along.

  I agree to smooth the situation over with him and jump in with the lie. "Yeah, I half expect it to start mooing again at any moment."

  "Grow up, Becca," Lorna says.

  If that's the harshest thing she's got for me, I can live with that, so I let it go. What I can't live with is the fact that Mason consented to marry my mother. This feels like one big joke, where a camera crew is going to jump out from the kitchen and say, "Surprise! You've just been a part of one giant prank!"

  But of course, I know it's far more serious than that. Still, how could he have agreed to the marriage after what we went through—rescuing me from Robert at the bar, the obnoxious banker who thought he was God's gift to women, and then of course what later happened in the bathroom stall… even he has to remember that.

  I watch as Mason turns on the charm for my mother. He's completely ignoring me at this point. H's smiling a little wider, and his body is turned in her direction.

  "Beautiful spread," he says to her, motioning at the table, and my mother smiles.

  "I can show you a different kind of spread," she purrs, and I want to gag. I mean, literally fucking gag. But this feeling of disgust is mixed with something more … is it jealousy?

  Yes, I admit that Mason can be a cocky asshole at times, but he's confident, successful, driven, powerful … and it helps that he's hot. Scorching hot. The good outweighs the bad. Believe me.

  Yes, he's technically old enough to be my father … and I guess he is my father now … well, stepfather, but that doesn't make it any less strange, and I mean, if I'm honest, the moment I placed my hands on his chest and my fingers traced the hard edges of his rippling muscles, I knew he was truly a god among men.

  He's ripped. Just thinking about those eight, perfect squares of muscles in his abdomen makes me wet. And I can't even think about his faultless 12-inches of manhood … unless I want to be instantly soaking wet during dinner.

  If Mason is feeling the same as I am, it's impossible to know because he's completely playing along at this point. He smiles and places his hand on hers.

  I watch as the two of them engage in friendly, albeit slightly flirty banter, and I decide to take the evening into my own hands.

  "You two are perfect for each other," I say, taking another sip of wine. Carl's been doing a good job of keeping our glasses full all evening.

  They both turn and look at me, caught off guard by my remark.

  "I thought it was too premature to suggest congratulations," mother says.

  "Oh, it is," I continue, smiling, "but who knows? Maybe two wrongs will make a right?"

  Now I have Mason's attention. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks.

  "I just mean that I could never seriously date a man who publicly blows his load on one of the biggest financial news networks."

  I figure I should use reverse psychology. If I talk about what he can't have, he'll want it even more.

  "That's not my proudest moment with the MarketWatch anchor, Stacy Sawyer," he says. "It wasn't planned; it just happened."

  "Just happened?" I ask. Give me a break. Things like that don't just 'happen.'

  "Well thankfully you've got me, dear," Lorna purrs devilishly. "That'll never happen again."

  I can almost detect a grimace on Mason's face, but he does a good job of hiding it. It goes undetected by my mother.

  "You should really think about settling down, Becca," my mother says. "You aren't getting any younger."

  I've heard this spiel before. Settle down. Get married. Have kids. As unconventionally career-minded as my mother is, she's also annoying conventional in terms of the advice she insists on dishing out to me.

  "I'd settle down if I ever found a man worth settling down for," I reply.

  I can feel Mason's eyes on me. He has a look that says he's mentally undressing me. Good. That just means my approach is working.

  "You can understand that, right Mason?" I ask. "A woman needs a strong, powerful, driven man. A man who is equally powerful in his career and personal life, and who can keep up with me and … what's the correct word here? Keep me satisfied?"

  "Satisfied?" he asks. He's shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

  "Yes, I need a man who has his fingers on the pulse of my life, if you know what I mean," I smile. "Would you know anything about that, Mr. Kane?"

  I can see him take a nervous gulp. His large Adam's apple bobs up and down his throat. I have him in my grasp, and I'm loving it. It's not every day that a woman can say she's made Mason Kane, the Wolf of Wall Street, nervous.

  I sit up straight, purposely pushing my breasts out and I give him a deeper view of my cleavage. My mother doesn't notice. She's a few glasses of wine deep at this point in the evening, and is in her own world. I decide to take advantage of that.

  Carl brings us a plate of figs, sliced lengthwise and drizzled with honey.

  "Do you like figs?" I ask Mason.

  "Sometimes."

  "You have to know how to eat them," I say, and I decide to demonstrate.

  I pick one up and hold it delicately in between my fingers. I make sure Mason is watching and I slowly bring it to my mouth, parting my red lips and then dragging my tongue across the flesh. I lick the sweet honey off of it by dragging the tip of my tongue across its glistening, soft, split ripeness.

  Mason's visibly uncomfortable. There's a hunger growing in his eyes that can't be sated by the food on this table. He's shifting his weight from one side to the next in his chair, and not knowing what to do with his hands, he leans back and rubs the back of his neck. I wonder how hard his cock is right now.

  There's only one way to find out.

  We are sitting across from each other and I push one of my legs forward until it meets his. I slip my feet out of my heels. I'm wearing silk stockings, and I drag one smooth foot up his leg.

  He coughs in surprise.

  "Are you okay?" my mother asks him.

  He waves her off. "I'm fine. I think a bite of food went down wrong, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

  I decide to drag my silky foot up further until it's pressed against his soft inner thigh. He's shifting in his seat again until I bring my foot to th
e secret center of his crotch and I feel him—his 12-inch cock is as hard and thick as a cucumber, and I stifle a smile. I bring my second foot up until both feet are cradling his manhood. I stroke him with both silky feet, slowly at first, and then at a faster tempo.

  He's trying not to look at me. He's trying to suppress the desire pulsing through his veins. He tilts his head back, tugging at the Windsor knot of his tie.

  "It's hot in here," he says, loosening his tie some more.

  "Carl!" mother shouts. "Please adjust the thermostat. Mr. Kane appears to be uncomfortably warm."

  "Yes, ma'm," Carl replies, and walks off to adjust the temperature.

  Little do they know, the thermostat can't help Mason. Things are about to get a lot hotter. I stroke his cock with increased pressure and speed, until I feel him twitch. His entire body is tense and I know I'm bringing him dangerously close to the edge of an explosive orgasm.

  But not tonight. Not now.

  I'm not going to give it to him that easy.

  I remove my feet and slip them back into their heels as if nothing happened. "Well, it's getting late," I say to no one in particular.

  Then I turn and look at Mason. "Perhaps I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

  His words catch in his throat and he doesn't respond. He merely nods.

  I've never seen Mason as speechless as I'm seeing him right now.

  Who has the upper hand now, huh?

  Bet he’s never gone up against a brat like me.

  8

  MarketWatch Journal Flash Update

  Wall Street industry insiders were stunned yesterday when Mason Kane, the bad boy CEO of the Kane Price investment bank announced a surprise marriage with Lorna Lowell, his longtime foe.

  Ms. Lowell is an activist shareholder who holds a large percentage of stock in the Kane Price investment bank and in recent months has been more and more critical of the way that Mr. Kane has conducted himself.

  Her claims of Mr. Kane's inability to manage his position were taken up by other critics of the CEO recently after a scandalous episode in which Mason Kane was caught on camera engaged in crude sexual acts with a television reporter. That act was inadvertently broadcast nationwide during a camera malfunction and reached an unfortunate conclusion when Mason Kane proceeded to ejaculate on the camera, and by extension into the homes and faces of every viewer that was watching.

  Mr. Kane’s spokesman announced that the two were married in a private ceremony attended by extremely close friends.

  The marriage is surprising to many, however, not just for the playboy tendencies that Mr. Kane has been known to possess, but also for the loggerheads that he has often been at with Ms. Lowell and his Board of Directors.

  Since the initial public offering of Kane Price three years ago transformed the company from a closely held partnership into a globe-girdling organization, Mason Kane has emerged as one of Wall Street's hottest deal makers and its youngest billionaire. However, this self-proclaimed 'King of Wall Street' has not been without his detractors who claim that his hard partying ways have caused a crisis of confidence to develop among the firm's top clients, as well as his Board of Directors.

  In an industry where confidence and surety are prized, critics claim that Mason Kane provides neither.

  The marriage to Lorna Lowell may however, in the opinion of some industry observers, go a long way toward alleviating some of the concerns regarding Mr. Kane's temperament.

  "People love him. They think he's the life of the party. But quite honestly, you don't want the life of the party managing your money when you're talking about hundreds of millions of dollars. You want the most boring guy in the room. The guy who can't talk to any of the girls because he doesn't know how. All he knows how to do is count coins. That's what clients are looking for when they look toward an investment bank," commented a source who asked to remain anonymous due to the fact that his company was already doing some business with Kane Price.

  It remains to be seen whether any union between Mr. Kane and his critical Board members will have any affect on his image. However, one thing has transpired already, and that is undeniable.

  "People are definitely talking about him more. And Lorna Lowell's profile has risen on Wall Street as well. Considerably," commented one industry observer who also requested anonymity due to the delicate and evolving nature of the developments.

  The observer further commented, "It might just be enough to thwart any sort of revolt by the Board and prevent any no confidence motions. Maybe."

  Whether that is the real reason for the engagement, or whether there is genuine love, that is up for debate. What is established however is that Wall Street is watching. Very closely.

  9

  Mason

  "Good morning, Mr. Kane," my secretary smiles. I can tell she's hoping to engage me in a friendly back and forth conversation, but I'm not in the mood today.

  "I need a coffee this morning, and I'll take it black," I say. I don't have time for small talk. I'm at work particularly early, 7 a.m. Too fucking early if you ask me, but there's a lot on my agenda.

  First things first. It's early and I'd like to monitor the European fixed income markets. I also need to meet with a few visiting traders, strategists, and economists from visiting banks. In other words, it's a full fucking day. There's no rest for the King of Wall Street.

  I walk toward the trading desk and I see her. Becca. The last time I saw her was at Lorna's house for dinner a week ago - back when I was a bachelor. She stood up and left me with a pair of balls bluer than the arctic. But the image of her right now stops me in my tracks. She's literally dressed to fucking kill.

  What is it about a perfect pair of long legs and a tight, heart-shaped ass that makes men lose all rational ability? Because that agenda I just mentioned to you, Gorgeous? Well, I no longer give a fuck about any of it now that my cock is twitching in my pants. It's growing harder by the minute, and if I'm not careful, it's going to create an obscene tent.

  Becca's bent over the trading desk and I can see every curve of her ass. She's talking to some broker who thinks he actually has a shot with her. The poor schmo is telling her about his latest market views, but he can't keep his eyes off of her tits. It's all so obvious. He's practically salivating.

  My eyes travel down her tight skirt to her gorgeous legs. She's wearing a pair of silk stockings that have a seam traveling down the back, and on her feet are a pair of five-inch black leather heels. I can't help but want to grab those hips and part those legs.

  I've never really noticed her like this before. Sure, we had one hot fuck session, and she teased me at dinner with Lorna at the same table … but now I seem to be hyper-aware of her body. Her presence sends an electric current down my spine.

  I walk toward the trading desk.

  "Mr. Kane, good morning," the broker says. I dismiss him and look right at Becca.

  "I see you're here early."

  "Yes, we were just going over market data," she smiles, and I'm not sure if it's my imagination but I swear she sticks her ass out a few inches closer to my cock.

  I contemplate standing close enough to feel the heat of her body, to secretly press myself into her curves, but I hear a voice behind me.

  "We need to talk."

  It's Lorna. I swear, her timing is impeccable, isn't it?

  "How can I help you this morning?" I ask. I'm hoping it's something simple so that she'll be on her way and I can quickly get rid of her.

  "We need a set of investments," she demands.

  "With who?"

  "With Red Lion Aviation."

  "Isn't that the airline company that has low safety ratings?"

  She dodges the question and continues, "As Chief Counsel of this firm, I'm saying we need to invest in Red Lion Aviation bonds." Her tone is calculated and cold, and she speaks with finality.

  "That's ridiculous," I say.

  "I didn't ask for your opinion," she replies, giving me an icy glare.

  "Thi
s is more than just an opinion," I say. "Market research doesn't lie. The numbers show that this isn't a viable company."

  "Oh, you're certainly not one to talk about viable," she smirks.

  "I'm not about to throw our investments down a drain," I say. "I care about the future of this company, and I'm not so sure the same can be said for you."

  Lorna laughs, but it's not a good-humored laugh. It's vindictive and cold.

  "You want to talk about smart, viable decision making?" she asks. "You should've started thinking about that before fucking that MarketWatch anchor on national television."

  "Get off it, Lorna," I say. "That's over. I'm looking forward, not backward."

  "I think you're forgetting something very important here. I am the largest shareholder in this company, and I determine where our investments go and don't go," she says, her cold blue eyes sparkling like broken glass.

  I'm vaguely aware that Becca and the others on the trading floor are listening to every detail of our argument, but they're pretending to be busy. Now's not the time or place for Lorna and I to be arguing.

  "Again, I'd consider your investment strategy if it was viable, but Red Lion Aviation is not. It's a joke, and I won't move forward with such an unreasonable plan of action," I say. For better or worse, I'm not backing down from this.

  Lorna stares at me and she doesn't have to say another word because I can feel her wrath. I don't know what's going to happen, but there's no way I could move forward with such a bad investment in good consciousness.

  I watch as she turns on her heels and leaves. Her steps are heavy and brisk.

  I walk away from the trading floor as well and head into my office. I find my leather chair and sink into it. This morning isn't going as planned. It's gone up in flames and it's barely 8 a.m. I resist the urge to pull out the secret bottle of scotch that I have stashed in my desk drawer. I'd love one nice, long, warm pull from that bottle, but it's too early.