Summer I hold my wrists under the running water from the tap.
Goosebumps pop on my forearms. Get a hold of yourself; it’s okay.
It will be okay.
I came all over my new work client's fingers while he negotiated some kind of deal on the phone. My thighs
clench. I stare at myself in the mirror. What the hell is wrong with me?
I seriously don't think that what he did to me is hot, right?
The complete control of his actions as he’d finger fucked me to not one, but two orgasms, right there on the
conference table, was... hedonistic. It was a hundred ways to screwed up. These things don’t happen in real life.
The audacity of the man. He seriously thought that he could get away with it, too. Has he tried this with anyone
else previously? I shut off the tap, and my fingers clutch at the cold metal. Of course, he must have. Had he done it
in that same conference room? The one where there are no
cameras so there can be no incriminating evidence of his trysts. I tip up my chin. I am not going to be yet another
in a long list of fuck buddies that he’s gathered along the way.
Someone he thinks his power and money can buy off. Isn’t that what brought me here in the first place?
The fact that he holds all of the cards. He has the money I need so desperately. Hell, I could sell myself and not
come up with the kind of cash he is offering, at least not as quickly as I need it. It is my life, my sister’s life, my
fledgling company.
How far would I go to secure my future? Would I sell my body to the fucked-up machinations of one man? A
power drunk, obnoxious jerkface. Too bad he has a countenance that could floor a woman at twenty paces. And
that body? I gulp. He could have st epped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Not to mention a razor-sharp mind,
with the ability to stay fully in the present and navigate his way through a complex deal, while the rest of him is
focused elsewhere. The man had literally split his attention with cold calculation to ensure all of the tasks at hand
were fulfilled to his satisfaction.
And mine.
Moisture laces my already damp panties. I shift my weight from foot to foot. Damn it, I didn’t have a choice. I
shove my underwear down my legs, and stuff it into my bag.
The door opens and an older woman walks in. She’s dressed in a fitted skirt, obligatory jacket, and stilettos. She
pauses at the wash basin next to mine, and pats her already sleek bob. Not a hair out of place. I stare at my own
flushed appearance, the strands of pink hair stuck to my forehead.
Grabbing a paper towel, I dab at the shiny skin. Her gaze meets mine in the mirror.
"You have beautiful skin."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "Thank you."
"You're new, huh?"
"No prizes for guessing?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
"Don’t let him get to you."
"Who?"
"Sinclair." She flips out her compact and dabs at her nose, "His bark is worse than his bite."
"Oh?"
"It’s the difficult upbringing he had."
I tilt my head, "Difficult?"
"The kind of horrific things he and the rest of the Seven faced as children would have forced many others to have
committed suicide or turned to the wrong side of the tracks... which," she snaps her compact shut, "I admit they
dabble in the gray area, but they have each other’s backs.
And true loyalty among men... Well, there’s something that marks out the character of a man, huh?"
The Seven? Who are the Seven? Is that what 7 A is all about? How do I find out about them? I wad the tissue into a
ball and drop it into the slit provided. "There’s no honor among thieves. Doesn’t mean their actions can be
condoned."
"What if you weren’t seeing the whole picture and your point of view was biasing you?"
I turn to her, "What are you not telling me?"
Her features soften. "That’s for you to find out. You are a resourceful woman. Surely you can solve the rest of this
puzzle on your own?"
She reaches out a hand and pats my shoulder. "Come dear, he hates to be k ept waiting."
She turns and heads to the doorway.
"Wait."
She pauses, angles her body.
"Who are you?"
"I work with the Seven; I’ve been with them since the beginning."
"The beginning..."
"When they formed their first company."
Ah. I had searched for Mr. Alphahole’s background, of course, but hadn’t found much. He’d k ept his tracks
covered, until he’d come out of nowhere, or so it seemed, and bought the flailing Tenor Investments. He’d
rebranded it as 7 A Investments. He’d k ept himself out of the limelight since. Bet he used his power/money to buy
his privacy. And then there’s FOK Media. The company I am working for, which just launched. That had been the
latest news I had found, when I’d searched the internet last night before falling asle ep. Hmm. I walk toward the
woman, "That’s all you are going to say?"
"For now." She dips into her pocket and pulls out a card, "Come find me when you get a chance."
I take the card. Meredith Vincent.
"You're the one who emailed me?"
She nods.
There is no designation, no phone number or email address. "And you’re so high up in the company you don’t
need any introduction?"
She giggles, and the sound is so girlish, I can’t stop my lips from quirking.
"Don’t be silly." She searches my face, "My job is highly confidential. I work with the Seven, and I don’t need to
introduce myself to them, do I?"
Right. That doesn’t quite make sense, but I’ll take any support I can get in this place.
"So, you’ll help me?"
She pushes open the door, "I have a feeling we are going to help each other."