This is why you never do business with friends, but I use the word "friend" loosely. We went to college together, but more than that, we were both initiated into the King of Thieves the same night.
Biff was always going to be a member. Every man in Biff's family before him had been a member of the King of Thieves, as they all attended Dartnell, one of the best Ivy League colleges in the States.
I was a nobody at the time but heard whispers about the King of Thieves and what they could do for you. It's why I picked Dartnell to begin with. I had my choice of colleges, full rides and all. I worked my ass off to get there. I got into the King of Thieves because I earned it. It wasn't handed to me; nothing ever has been.
All Biff does is sit on his ass. His time is coming, and I'm ready to collect. Should I have loyalty to the society? That could be debated. Merely being in it opens all kinds of doors, but theyuse you right back. It's hard to have loyalty to an organization that tolerates dipshits like Biff. He thinks he has some protection from me because of those ties. If he does, it's hanging on by a thread.
I pick up one of the pictures on the shelf of his bookcase. It’s him and his wife. I heard she’s leaving him. He’s scrambling to find a good divorce lawyer. It was my understanding that he might have literally fucked his prenup. Piece by piece his life is going to fall apart. The Bradford name isn’t what it used to be. It’s now all a house of cards, using one investment venture to pay off the last.
Robbing Peter to pay Paul. One thing I don’t tolerate is fucking with my money. I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. I earned every dollar I’ve made, and now I’m the bank that people like Biff need to borrow from to stay afloat, but he’s getting sloppy, and I don’t want to be around when it all comes crashing down.
I prefer to keep my hands clean, and I won’t be linked to the schemes he’s been up to. I want to make a clean break from him but refuse to forgive the loans he owes me. I want repayment in full before he crashes and burns for good.
I set the photo down as the double doors to Biff’s office fly open. A tiny blonde with pink streaks in her hair stands there, her boot still in the air from kicking it. She comes in like a sparkly Tasmanian devil.
Well, isn't this interesting?
The tiny blonde has both determination and fire in her eyes. She's pissed. Is she one of his mistresses? Based solely on her black leggings, winter boots, and a pink sweater that fits her curves, I doubt she is one of his, as her clothing appears to be from an ordinary retailer. If she is his mistress, he's not paying her very well. But she's gorgeous enough to be.
Her dark green eyes lock onto me and narrow, making my cock harden. Well, fuck me. She has plump lips and a heart-shaped face, but that button nose of hers and high cheekbones make her striking. Perfection, really. Across her cheeks and nose are glittery freckles, making her look like a real-life pixie.
“Who the hell are you?” she asks, marching right in and glancing around. “And where is that asshole?” She rolls her eyes. “You must be the lawyer.” The tiny spitfire shakes her head, like a mother disappointed in her child. “Got on a thirty thousand dollar suit but still look like you fight squirrels for bread.”
I simply stare at her. What the fuck does that even mean? I'm going with it because she is by far the most interesting and entertaining human I have come across in a long time, if ever.
"Are we counting the cufflinks? That would up it another five grand."
"Good, I'm glad you got money. You're going to need it after I sue your client for stalking." I love the confidence she speaks with. It’s sexy as fuck. This spitfire is the full package.
"Stalking?"
"Yeah, he's obsessed with me." She flicks her hair over her shoulder.
"Can't say I blame him."
"Don't try your lawyerly smooth talk on me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Because you evil bloodsuckers don't dream. You're a bunch of nightmares." I can't argue with that, but I want to if it keeps her engaged.
"Stalking?" I do want to get back to that.
"He's pissed. I gave him the slip and outed him to his wife."
"You were dating him?"
"Oh, God no." She takes a couple of steps back like my words assaulted her.
"He was merely a job." No, I don't believe it. There’s no way this goddess has to sell her body to make money. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but I can’t imagine it.
"You're a hooker?"
"Whoa, let's calm down there, and don't be a dick. If I were selling sex, I'd be a high-class call girl."
"My apologies." I sit down in one of the chairs next to the bookcase.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Biff comes striding into his office. I'm back on my feet as he tries to get in her face, intimidating her with his size.
