Chapter 6
Friday, 8:23pm
I sat in my tiny apartment and stared at the ceiling, my fingers lazily trailing along the spine of the cat purring contentedly in my lap. Lightning flickered outside, briefly illuminating the sad state of my quarters before it faded into low-light obscurity once more. The roaring that always accompanied it followed a few seconds later. The irregularity of the assault of lightning and thunder contrasted with the pitter-patter of the rain beating against my window, which was steady and unrelenting. I barely noticed it as I took a sip of the slightly cool beer I'd nursed for the past two and a half hours as I contemplated the possibilities that had been presented before me.
So. Much. Money.
I'd wanted to sign and just start spending immediately. Who wouldn't have? But my lawyers seemed about as altruistic as a panther at a puppy parade, and I was the puppy. I didn't have a clue what I was signing, and I didn't want to obligate myself to people I knew nothing about.
But I had no idea who to trust to look over all this. I didn't know any lawyers. I could have found one, but how did lawyer/client privilege factor in when hundreds of billions were on the line? I had access to well beyond fuck-you money, but I'd seen enough movies and television to know that I could easily get caught up in currents that could suck me under the surface and drown me.
My family would be of limited help. Neither of my parents were incredibly financially responsible. My youngest brother, Richie, was 19, and all 19 year-olds were notoriously stupid. Jacob was only three years younger than me, but he was a lazy piece of shit who couldn't keep a job longer than 6 months. The few close friends I had were administrative assistants, baristas, and improv coaches. They support me emotionally, but they couldn't exactly help me navigate something like this. And what if dollar signs changed how they felt about our friendship?
A knock on the door pulled me from my deep thoughts. I checked my phone to see that it was 8:30 at night on a Friday. Who the hell could that be? Jack jumped off my lap as I sat my beer down and pulled myself out of my chair.
I approached the door, weaving my way around my belongings scattered across the floor. Jessica had indeed departed, but she hadn't left the apartment in the normally pristine condition I kept it in. Nothing was broken, but things had been thrown around the apartment unnecessarily, a sign she hadn't been happy with me when she left.
"Who is it?" I called through the door once I'd reached it.
The volume of the voice was low - inappropriate for someone talking through a door. Almost as if they wanted to prevent drawing attention to themself. "It's Helen VonCamp."
That completely shocked me. The last person I expected to be at my door at 8:30 on a Friday night was the wife of one of the partners of one of the richest law firms in New York. I glanced around the room in horror of the mess I'd let sit around since I got back. Clothes were on the floor, one of my dresser drawers had been completely removed and left upside down next to it. There were a few empty take-out containers on the kitchen counter. Horrified, I backed away from the door.
"Uh… just a minute!" I shouted as I began racing around the small apartment, throwing clothes and clutter into small piles in an attempt to minimize the chaos. I shoved the dresser drawer back in its hole and dumped as much in it before shutting it completely. I tossed the trash on the kitchen counters into the actual wastebasket and gave them a half-hearted wipedown with an old dish rag before tossing that into the sink. The entire affair took less than a minute and a half.
Then I opened the door to see one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever beheld staring back at me with that mysterious little smile on her face.. Her raincoat was soaked and she carried a dripping umbrella in one hand. She looked me up and down with that same half-amused smile on her face, "Evening, Mr. Upton. Doing a little last-minute cleanup before you move out of your apartment?"
Busted.
"Um… something like that," I said. I glanced up and down the hall, but no one else was present. When she didn't immediately respond, I continued, "Can I help you?"
Her smile grew a little wider, like she was genuinely amused, "Do you mind if I come in?"
"Oh!" I exclaimed, "Yes! Please!"
Stepping aside, I ushered Mrs. VanCamp inside my apartment and shut the door behind her. She was already shucking off her coat, and I couldn't help but notice she'd changed from the power suit she'd been wearing earlier to a slinky black dress that left her shoulders bare. The back of the dress plunged, exposing an expanse of soft, supple skin. She looked around the room as she held out her coat and gave me a good look at the front of her dress, which plunged delightfully between her breasts, showing a generous amount of cleavage. I reached for it and immediately draped it over the second-hand couch we stood beside.
"Apologies for the mess. I recently lost my roommate."
"Hardly a mess, Mr. Upton," Mrs. VanCamp said as she looked from the rest of the room to me. "There's not much here at all."
"Yeah. My roommate had most of the furniture."
"Well, I'd say that's good timing on our part," she said with a little laugh. "Less to move to a new place."
I wasn't really in the mood to joke about my current predicament. Especially with someone in my house that I hadn't been expecting and had no idea why she was here..
"Why are you here, Mrs. VanCamp."
She stared at me for a long moment, her amusement dropping slightly. "Like I said earlier, Helen, please."
"Helen," I tried it out without saying anything else. The moments stretched on and grew increasingly uncomfortable. After a few moments, she looked back around my apartment, taking a few steps toward the center. It looked like I would have to drive this conversation.
"Why are you here?" I repeated.
"Mr. VanCamp sent me to talk to you. He thought that you might feel more comfortable in a less… formal setting. Something a bit more familiar and intimate."
She circled the couch and sat down, all grace and poise while making me feel like I didn't belong in my own house. A generous amount of leg flashed into view as she crossed them. I circled the other side of the couch and sat, leaving plenty of space between us while trying my best to portray a level of control over the situation.
"Did you get a second opinion yet?" I got the impression of a cat toying with a mouse. If this was her attempt to disarm me, it wasn't working at all.
"Not yet." I replied, glancing at the table where the binder lay open displaying some of the possessions that were about to become mine. That particular page happened to mention an island.
"What's your hesitation?" She asked, as she adjusted herself on the couch. The space between us disappeared a fraction. "All you need to do is sign the document and you can immediately enjoy your newfound wealth without having to worry about it. You do realize you're the wealthiest man in the world by a large margin, don't you?"
"Yea," I cut her off before she could continue. "I just need time to process this, and figure out what's best for me. No offense to any of you guys, but I don't know you. I don't have a relationship with any of you. I'm sure you were great to my grandfather, but I also bet he was an actual businessman who knew what he was doing. I don't get that luxury. I've managed financials for a while now, and I have some connections at work that might be able to advise me on what to do. And maybe they'll have some great things to say about your firm, but analyzing years of data to see how you guys were doing will take too much time. And if I can't trust the family enough to ask them questions, I'm kind of stuck. What makes me think I can trust you guys to do what's best for me?"
"What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the side and watched me with an unreadable gaze.
"How do I know you guys have my best interest in mind? You worked for my grandpa. Not me. It's not like I'd never heard of Colin Gerrard before. He was a billionaire who controlled a media empire and owned majority shares in one of the largest holding companies in the world. I've heard the stories - he was a bastard. It makes sense to me that he'd hire bastards who would feast on me like a bunch of hyenas."
The room fell silent as we studied each other. Finally, she spoke up, "It's a valid concern. I would have the same. So… do you intend on hiring someone else? I can promise you that no one understands your grandfather's estate better than my firm." She adjusted herself on the couch so that her legs were tucked under her, more distance subtly disappearing between us. "Your concern about us mismanaging your estate for selfish gain should keep in mind that any other firm would likely mismanage your estate due to lack of experience." Another smile, "Besides… all lawyers are bastards."
She leaned forward, the neckline of her dress draping forward to show a generous amount of cleavage. A woman as perfect as her made me wonder if she'd had any work done, or if it was all natural. Even this close, I couldn't tell.
She placed her hands on the cushion between us, that predatory smile deepening, "And you're not a helpless lamb, Mr. Upton. You're the richest man alive. You could literally take my firm apart, if you wanted. Ruin the lives of anyone on a whim. Almost everyone there is as terrified of you as apparently you are of them. Probably more. Literally half my firm exists just to take care of the Gerrard estate." She inched forward, and I had a hard time focusing on her words in the presence of such beauty.
"And we're desperate to keep you… sir." Her face was inches from mine, slightly lower so she could look up to add a touch more subservience to the word 'sir'. God… she was good. Her eyes were an ice blue that was so rare to find, but at this moment, they were anything but cold.
And I found it almost impossible not to move.
I felt her palm press gently to my face, her thumb running up and down my cheekbone as she stared into my eyes. She smelled like a mixture of vanilla and lavender. The smell, the stare, the feel of her soft hand on my face… it all mingled together in a concoction that made it impossible to think clearly. It was all happening so fast.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. I felt her leg slide over my lap and felt her full weight on me. She was straddling my lap, that brief moment of subservience replaced by a woman who knew exactly what I wanted and had decided that she would deign to give it to me. I looked up at her face staring down at me from over the gentle swells of her half-exposed breasts contained in her little black dress. "Aren't you -" I started.
"We have an… arrangement," she said as she looked me up and down. "And that arrangement includes giving the wealthiest man in the world whatever he wants." She lowered her face until her lips brushed mine, not quite a kiss, but teasing at what I could have. I swallowed her breath with every inhale, and the only thing I could think of at that moment was how much I wanted those lips on mine.
"Do you want…" She leaned forward so that I could feel her breasts press against my chest. I found her breath on my ear. And then she started making small circular thrusts with her hips, grinding the boiling heat between her legs into my hardon through my pants. "Me?" She punctuated that with a lingering kiss on my ear - the sound of it made me shiver involuntarily, and I could hear a little hum of satisfaction from her as she could obviously tell what kind of reaction she was getting from me. She pulled away, leaving little trailing kisses down my cheek and then lingered there before giving me a final, moist kiss just beside my mouth. The corner of her lips connected with mine, and I knew that just a slight turn of the head and our mouths would be covering each other. The length of time she lingered there felt like an eternity. I felt like my heart was about to rupture through my rib cage.
She finally pulled away just enough for my eyes to meet hers. Her lips still hovered less than an inch from mine still.
"Just say the word, Marcus," she whispered.
I didn't say anything. I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I simply crushed my lips against Helen's, grabbing the sides of her head as I drank from her.
Her hands cupped either side of my face as her tongue found its way into my mouth. That pressure on my crotch returned as she began grinding against me. She tasted exquisite. Her flavor, her scent, the way her fingers danced between graceful delicacy and firm passion… she could have asked me to sign over my entire fortune to her and I would have considered it at that moment.
Jessica who?