Executive Perks(8)

By: Angela Claire

Virginia shook herself from her reverie. “Absurd, completely absurd!” she said aloud to nobody. What was the matter with her? It must be the wine.

She put down her wine glass and flicked open her laptop, never far from hand. She’d received all the reports on the corporate raider and his targets and his business approach. Now she was in the mood for a little more down to earth snooping.

She ran a Google search on him.

The first entry that came up didn’t exactly help with that sparking thing. The photo of Winston, relaxed and smiling at some woman who Virginia barely saw, was mesmerizing. What was it? Oh, he was smiling. That was it. And not just the snide quirk of his lips she had seen today as he ribbed her. On the contrary, the smile in the photo was relaxed, confident…nice.

She flicked on another photo, balancing the laptop on her lap. This time it was of a much younger Aaron Winston. The caption, involving the words shark and attack, was not very complimentary, like most of his publicity, but the photo was appealing. God, how old was he in it? She looked for a dateline. It was a decade and a half ago. He wasn’t much more than a baby. She read the name of his target that time, but instead of sympathizing with the management, as she usually did, she found herself wondering how so young a man had pulled off so big a transaction. Scanning the details of the accompanying write-up, part of the answer was buried in the fourth paragraph with an explanation of a corporate maneuver that was as clever as it was ruthless. The photo drew her eyes back. He didn’t look much older than Mindy and Missy, her younger twin sisters, who at this time in their lives were worrying about no more than what grade they may get on a lit final or who they might go out with on a Friday night, and usually more about the latter than the former.

The third Google entry, being as how it involved a paparazzi photo of him sans shirt sailing on a yacht with a topless woman, prompted her to slam the computer shut. Damn, why the hell did that infuriating man have to be such a heart-throb?

* * * * *

Aaron stood at the living room windows of his penthouse, naked. A pretty dangerous thing to do in the age of YouTube even if it was midnight and the city that never sleeps was lit up fifty stories beneath him.


The voice from the bedroom didn’t move him.

“Come back to bed, lover.”

Uncharacteristically, he was in no mood to do so. He tuned Julie’s voice out.

He couldn’t put a finger on what was bugging him. Nothing was going wrong in his life. Not precisely. His company was thriving. His bank account was beyond anything a kid from the Bronx, an orphan to boot, could ever have even dreamed of.

He had just gotten a perfectly competent lay from his current girlfriend, with whom he had an unspoken open relationship that allowed him to wander whenever he was so inclined.

So what was the problem?

The problem was he was so inclined. And the woman he was inclined to wander with actually hated his guts, for good reason.

Virginia Beckett.

Her corporate princess disdain of his business methods still riled him in a way he rarely let get to him these days. Not like when he was first starting out, fresh from a dozen foster homes and out to prove he was as good as any Ivy Leaguer. Quick to take offense back then, even as he tried not to show it, he twisted the corporate knife into his targets with relish, glad to think of driving them to an extra martini or two at the yacht club in despair as to what the world was coming to with all these upstarts. Virginia Beckett would have inspired the most ruthless of responses had he met her in those early days.

But he thought he was beyond all that now. He thought he was secure enough in his own success not to let the old jibes throw him off. But they had.

Maybe because he wanted the mouth with that silver spoon in it to be sucking his cock instead.

He’d half thought when he propositioned Virginia Beckett that he was just trying to needle her. A vivid erotic dream—or two—since then had convinced him otherwise. Just remembering the one he’d had last night—waking up from a sound sleep with a boner—made his cock stiffen and he casually reached one hand down to it, closing his eyes against the sight of the city and seeing only her.

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