Profit & Lace: A Dark MMF Romance Page 14

  Carter stands up in front of me. I reach out, pull him closer and he straddles my lap kissing me. This time we don’t battle for dominance. We meet each other as two equals exchanging pleasure. I reach between us dragging my finger through the cum clinging to both our cocks. I bring my cum-coated fingers between our lips. I pull back, sucking them, tasting myself and Carter mixed together. Carter can’t take his eyes off of my mouth as I lick those fingers clean. Carter growls low in his throat and his hand comes up, thumb stroking along my jawline, long fingers curling around my neck. I tilt my head back and Carter’s mouth comes crashing against mine. His tongue chasing the flavor of us around my mouth. We kiss until we’re breathless and, when we pull back, we simply stare into each other’s eyes as if we’re truly seeing one another for the first time.

  “We should've figured this out years ago,” Carter says, his forehead resting against mine.

  “What? That fucking is better than fighting?” I reply.

  “That we’re better together,” Carter says.

  “ You’re right,” I say, “better late than never I suppose.”

  “True. We’ve figured out us, and now we’ll figure out what to do about that bitch Wanda,” Carter says.

  I smile a genuine smile for the first time in weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Good Day, USA

  Welcome to Good Day USA! I’m your host, Christina Robertson.

  Erika:

  And I’m your co-host this morning, Erika Medina.

  We’re shifting our coverage on Operation Eliza Watch from Eliza Seymour to her two stepfather's this morning.

  Christina:

  That’s right. Sources claim that a very major meeting has just occurred between the two Wall Street titans. We’re wondering whether these two men, who have a long held animosity toward each other, could be burying the hatchet at long last.

  Erika:

  I mean, let’s face it, Christina, anyone who is anyone in the world of Wall Street knows that Carter Blake and Derek Stackford have had no love lost between each other. Derek Stackford has always been the flashier bad boy, living a playboy lifestyle after his marriage to Wanda Seymour ended. But Carter Blake has been known to get around himself. Not the open ladies man that Derek is, he’s been linked however to lots of leading ladies in his time.

  Christina:

  So what could bring these two men together?

  Erika:

  Well, we can only speculate. But it’s a fair guess to say it has something to do with our favorite little rich girl.

  Christina:

  Eliza Seymour?

  Erika:

  Right on the first try, Christina. Ever since Eliza has come back from Paris and set foot in New York City, these men have been hovering around her. We wonder if it's familial concern where the two men may be competing against each other to be the best father.

  Christina:

  Or … to be the best Daddy.

  Erika:

  That’s very true. While we don't have any credible proof as of yet, there are a lot of people who are speculating that Eliza may be the object of affection for either Derek or Carter.

  Christina.

  That’s right. So this big meeting between Carter and Derek may be not about money at all…but about who gets to tap the vajayjay.

  Erika:

  Or, this could all be blown up. Remember, there are no sources who have adequately confirmed that there is any romantic connection between Eliza and either man yet.

  Christina:

  But those same sources haven’t seen either man with another woman yet! That alone should tell you something is up!

  Erika:

  You could have a point…

  Christina:

  I mean, come on. You take the biggest playboy of Wall Street, Derek Stackford, who literally is known for getting his interns on their knees. Then you take one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors – Carter Blake - a man which most likely every female New Yorker wants to get trapped in an elevator during a power outage with. And you toss in a bad girl like our heiress, the Wild Child of New York City, and you put them in the same vicinity. And then you see that they’re not dating or doing anyone and have gone quiet all of a sudden. And you can’t help but start jumping to conclusions.

  Erika:

  Again…unsubstantiated conclusions.

  Christina: But without any evidence to the contrary, knowing these three individuals and their past, this seems to be the rational conclusion. Someone is trying to do someone. And stepfather or not, there is a competition most likely going on between two men that actively dislike each other for the affections of Eliza Seymour.

  Erika:

  And there you have it folks. Society page sleuthing. That’s unfortunately all the time we have today for this segment, but stick around after the commercial break and we’ll talk to Arsen Hawke and his take on the rebirth of phone sex operations across the country.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eliza

  This is it.

  After thinking long and hard about what I should do, I’ve finally reached a decision. Much like I did when I decided to fuck them both, I’ve decided to go with both of their recommendations. They’re the best at what they do, and what better than to have two titans of finance as my advisors?

  Besides, the way I see it, going with the two of them is the best course of action for me. If I screw up my first investments, there’s no doubt in my mind that Wanda would try to make it look as if I’m not the right person to be managing the Seymour fortune. Oh, I bet she’d love that.

  Still, don’t think that putting together an investment plan is easy to do because I have Derek and Carter’s plan. Even if I’m just planning on using a fraction of my fortune, $250 billion is a nightmare to manage.

  I throw one last glance at the documents in front of me, and I feel my eyes burning just from looking at them. The numbers and letters seem to dance before my eyes, and I close them for a second and rub my temples. No, I’ve read these damn briefings, and spreadsheets for too long now. I’ve made my decision and I’m going to stick by it. The planning time is over—now it’s time to act.

  Pushing my chair back, I go up to my feet and walk toward my office door. Opening it up, I step outside into the lobby and go straight toward my secretary’s desk.

  “Yes, Ms. Seymour?” she asks me in her sweet French accent, immediately picking up one pen and readying herself to jot down whatever I’m going to say. I met Clara back when I was travelling through France and, even though she was still in college at the time, she struck me as an oddly brilliant young woman. When I got back to the US, hiring her was one of the first things I did. And so far, I haven’t regretted that decision. Despite her age, she’s probably one of my hardest working employees.

  “I want you to send a message to Mr. Blake and Mr. Stackford. Tell them that I’ve decided to go with both of their recommendations,” I tell her, feeling as if a heavy weight has finally been lifted off my shoulders. I’ve been struggling with this decision for too long, and now that I’ve finally decided on a course of action, I feel so much lighter. God, I could tiptoe my way across a road made of clouds!

  “So, I see you’ve already started squandering your parents’ money,” I hear a voice say, and my skin prickles as if an icy wind has just whipped at my skin. That voice, that tone… It was inevitable that, sooner or later, she would show her face; and still, I wasn’t expecting for it to happen this soon. But I guess the Devil doesn’t keep any particular schedule.

  “Wanda,” I greet her flatly, turning around to face her as she walks down the lobby toward me, high-end purse slung over her shoulder. Even though a few years have passed since I saw her for the last time, she doesn’t seem to have aged a bit. In fact, she seems even more beautiful that before, her blue eyes charged with that deep magnetism with which she ensnared my father, Derek, and Carter.

  “Eliza,” she says in that icy tone of hers, her postu
re rigid and formal. “How was Europe? I heard you had the time of your life.” I stare back at her in silence, fully knowing that her words are nothing but a way to goad me into a fight. She’s always been like that, circling around her targets like a vulture and prodding with well placed words. In another life, I bet she was either a chess player or a pugilist. Or a cutthroat assassin, that too.

  “What do you want, Wanda?” I ask her right away, not willing to play her game.

  “Can’t a woman visit her stepdaughter?” she shoots back, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I waited all this time for you to come and visit me … but what a surprise, you didn’t come.”

  “Please, don’t pretend we’re family. We’re not.” I don’t even bother with playing the niceties game. I know enough of Wanda not to fall for her faux nice words. I played that game when my father was alive, but she never fooled me. Behind her easy smile and high society posture, I always saw her for what she really is—a woman who knows no boundaries when it comes to getting what she wants. And what she wants is always the same thing, money and power.

  “Oh, we’re not family? I can’t say I’m surprised you’d say such a thing. After all, you ran out on your family, didn’t you? Instead of staying, you acted like a brat and ran away to Europe.”

  “I didn’t run away,” I hiss, clenching my jaw, and I realize that she’s pulling my strings. I need to keep my head over my shoulders.

  “Tell me, Eliza,” she says, closing the distance between us and leaning forward, taking her mouth close to my ear. “Which one of them are you fucking? Derek? Carter? It’s more than obvious what’s happening.”

  My body reacts faster than my mind does. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’ve cocked my arm back and the palm of my hand is flying in an arch straight toward her face. I slap her hard, but she doesn’t even flinch. She just gives me that pristine smile of hers, her eyes narrowing into two dangerous slits.

  “Get. Out.” I push the words out with effort, my blood boiling inside my veins. I’ve never been the kind of woman to be pulled into a fight, but I’m more than willing to open an exception when it comes to Wanda. And, God, I gotta admit, it felt good to slap her. No, more than good… It felt terrific.

  “Is this how you treat your mother?”

  “You’re not my mother. I tolerated you because of my father, but now that he’s gone… You’re nothing to me, Wanda. You never cared for me, and you never cared for my father. You only care about yourself. I’ll tell you once more: get the fuck out, or else I’m calling security.”

  “This isn’t over, Eliza,” she blurts out, and in her eyes dances the promise of a threat. “If you think you can come here and get your hands on that money this easily… You’re wrong, Eliza. You’re very, very wrong. The Seymour estate belongs to me, and believe me when I say that soon enough, all of it is going to be mine. Whatever it takes,” she hisses, and I know that she means it. She hasn’t even bothered to lie; she’s coming after me with her guns blazing, and she wants me to know it.

  I almost raise my hand to slap her again, but luckily for her, she turns on her heels and starts walking down the lobby, throwing one last glance at me over her shoulder. I watch as she goes, fully knowing that this is a declaration of war.

  One that I’ll have to win, come hell or high water.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Derek

  "Well, if it isn't the devil herself," I sigh, looking up from my spreadsheet. "To what do I owe this honor?"

  I hope she can hear the sarcasm dripping from my voice because I'm really not amused. She's the last person I wanted to see today.

  This is becoming almost predictable ... and it's not the kind of predictability that I want. Who does Wanda think she is, continually barging into my office unannounced like this? If this continues, I'll need to increase security at the office.

  She has both hands on her hips as she walks in, her heels stabbing the plush carpet with every step. It's almost painful to watch … and the idea crosses my mind that those heels could be used as a weapon if she ever decided to fly off the handle. Those psychopathic eyes or hers convince me I'm right, too.

  She's eyeing me like a predator eyes its prey.

  "I want a progress report, and I want it now," she hisses, slamming one hand down on my desk. I watch as a few stray papers fall off my desk and flutter to the ground. Important papers. Now I'm really annoyed.

  She seems to be morphing into more of a beast each time I see her, even her nails appear longer and pointier. Is she doing that on purpose?

  "So, I don't get a hello? No, 'how's your day', Derek? It hasn't even been 24 hours, and yet, here you are. That wasn't a part of the plan."

  I'm trying to play it casual.

  "I've had enough of your games," she quickly snaps. "I want an update, and I want it now."

  "You know what, Wanda?" I say. "You're a Grade-A bitch, and you can fuck off. I suggest you leave—now."

  The shock on her face is visible. She wasn't expecting those words to tumble from my mouth, but I've had enough. Every person has a breaking point, and she's just pushed me past mine. My patience is up.

  "You're playing dangerously … very dangerously. I thought you were smarter than that," she smiles, exposing her perfectly square, and white teeth, but I can tell it's taking considerable effort for her to keep her cool. I see a murderous rage flash in her eyes. I know her all too well. She's unpredictable when mad.

  "I'm saying what I should've said a long time ago," I reply. "You aren't going to dictate this situation any longer. You don't have the kind of power over me that you think you do. Those days are over."

  Now I'm standing up and getting ready to point her to the door. I have both hands balled into fist and shoved deep into my pockets. My posture is rigid, every muscle in my body taut.

  "Wrong," she says with a shrill laugh. "You have no idea what you've just done. You're going to regret this. Remember, your entire career—this whole empire of wealth—is at stake. And it's not just your life—it's the lives of everyone who works with you in the firm. Have you stopped for a moment to think about that, or are you really that selfish and self-centered? And do you really think I don't know what's going on?"

  'What are you talking about?" I ask. My mind is racing. Where is she going with this? Could she possibly know about … no, that's impossible. Or is it?

  She continues, "I have eyes all over this city. Every nook and cranny. No matter where you are, I'm watching."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

  "It means that I know … about you and Eliza. Did you really think that I didn't? How stupid do you think I am? I didn't need to give you 24 hours to take action because I already know what you're up to."

  "What exactly are you implying?" I ask, still trying to gauge the severity of what she's saying. My mind is spinning like a fucking top, and I'm not sure how to interpret what she's telling me now.

  Wanda laughs, "Oh, come on. It's no secret that you're fucking Eliza."

  She casually strolls to the windows and looks out over the city before turning back to me, as if to drill home the fact that she lords over everything that happens in Manhattan. "So, tell me," she says, "How does she stack up?"

  "As compared to what?" I ask. Two can play this game.

  "No need to play coy," she purrs, walking over to me. As she approaches my desk, she slowly bends over to pick up the sheets of paper that have fallen to the ground just moments earlier. Her actions are smooth and calculated, and as she bends over, she deliberately gives me a perfect view of her breasts, straight down her low cut blouse.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I say.

  She continues, "Oh come on, don't you remember our all-night marathons? Does she get you as hard as I did?"

  "That was another fucking lifetime ago," I reply, trying to end the conversation. The last thing I want to think about is our failed marriage … I don't know what I was thinking ever marrying her in the first place. Sh
aring a bed with her is like cuddling a viper.

  "I have a hard time believing Eliza could ever stack up," she smiles. "It's an unfair comparison really."

  "Don't fucking kid yourself, Wanda," I say. "Eliza and Carter are the best things to have ever happened to me. The three of us are amazing together."

  I watch as Wanda's eyes widen.

  There's a look of shock that spreads across her face, and in that moment, I realize she was lying. She never knew about Eliza and I, and she certainly never knew about Carter. She was phishing me for information.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  She laid a trap and I fucking fell right into it.

  I can't backpedal out of this one. I can't un-say what's been said.

  She shakes her head. "Unbelievable," Wanda says, just above a whisper.

  I'm basically going all in now.

  "Believe it. We're happy. All three of us."

  She eyes me up and down, her gaze shooting daggers at me.

  "Watch yourself, Derek. This isn't over yet."

  Chapter Twenty-Five