James
So, the contractor lied. When I purchase a twenty-million-dollar apartment, I do expect things to be perfect. He said it was soundproof. Specifically, he said it was laid with ten-inch concrete floors that a Metallica concert couldn’t get through.
I remember it well. It wasn’t that long ago. I haven’t heard any other neighbors complain, so poor Sophia must have the misfortune of being directly below my bedroom.
Oops.
Blame the contractor, not me. He’ll be constructing public housing in Florida after this.
I’m still not sure about this property. I wanted a brand-new apartment in Manhattan away from the eyes of billionaire’s row, and this was no doubt the winner.
But the other tenants are nowhere near rich. Let alone world-bendingly rich like me. I kind of like the idea. I don’t have to be scowled at by bejeweled old ladies in chinchilla coats while riding up the elevator with a date on each arm.
In fact, young pretty girls live here, apparently.
But no, I think. I have rules. A big one being don’t shit where you eat.
I undo my tie and look out at the city through my bedroom windows. But my eyes angle down at the floor. I’m picturing Sophia just below me. She’s getting ready for bed. Showering. The hot water turning some of her skin the same blushed red as her embarrassed cheeks.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find her attractive.
In the privacy of the third-floor of the gallery, I was tempted to tear off her black cocktail dress and bend her over one of those benches. But tempting as that is, that’s a very bad idea. It’s best I don’t get too close to any employees of McMurphy and Beaumont during the next few months.
I hear the sliding glass door to my rooftop open, and I walk out into the kitchen.
A man in all black with a long rifle slung across his chest shakes the snow off his coat and onto the black entrance mat.
“All quiet, sir,” says Brock, taking off his snowy ski mask to reveal a short beard and mean, square jaw. He’s my lead security man. He’s been with me since I first founded Aquarius Systems.
I’ve grown my business into what many now consider to be the best network security company in the world. The Department of Defense spends nearly a billion dollars on our products alone. We secure network transmissions from cameras on predator drones to the email network for the Pentagon. It’s slowly all becoming Aquarius.
“Who took third shift?” I ask.
“Dmitri.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Brock.”
“See you tomorrow, sir.”
That was another reason I had to take this apartment—it was easy to secure. Brock gets into my private elevator, and once the doors close, I pour myself a generous glass of scotch. I go over my plan in my head.
That’s the only place it exists. No whiteboards or cork boards with crisscrossing strings tied to thumbtacks. That would be far too risky to leave any evidence behind like that. I was being blackmailed into doing this. But my blackmailer would pay in time.
Executing this plan will increase my standing in The Jacksonian Society—a smoky men’s only club in New York. They prefer to go by The Society.
A dramatic name. It’s old men with turkey necks and halitosis breath playing clubhouse if you ask me. But they’re powerful, and I’d like to harness their connections.
I can’t think of the plan for very long.
Long black eyelashes cloud my vision. Big dark eyes behind them. I see Sophia’s face. Her plump cheeks. Her sharp canines that she’s a little shy of because she tilts her head down the tiniest bit when she smiles. Her hair, black as obsidian and no less glossy.
The personal profile I had completed on Sophia said she was straight-edge, somewhat extroverted, and all around a positive person. I find it interesting because tonight she had a razor’s edge to her.
I don’t think my investigator got it wrong. Maybe she was stressed at the end of a long day. Or all my escapades in the bedroom have really gotten to her.
This apartment has six bedrooms. The next time I have a woman here, I’ll fuck her somewhere else so Ms. Simms can get her beauty sleep.
That’s just being smart, not polite.
I knew Sophia lived below me before tonight. She’s good friends with the girlfriend of a buddy of mine, Alex Blackwell.
It was a strange coincidence that Sophia should be so close. Then again, Manhattan has an uncanny ability to feel like a small town sometimes. I don’t think of it as a bad omen.
Simple happenstance isn’t going to unnerve me.
I go to my study to catch up on work, and an hour passes. And speak of the devil, Alex Blackwell calls me close to midnight.
“Hello?”
He cuts straight to business. “Did you buy it?”
“I sign the paperwork tomorrow morning.”
“So, it’s not too late to talk you out of it?”
I say nothing for a moment. “No, Alex. You can’t talk me out of it.”
“Fine. Just know that I’ve worked with some guys from The Society before. They’re not the kind of people you want to disappoint.”
I think about telling him the truth—that I’m buying time until I can rig the deck in my favor, but even with friends, I keep my cards close to my chest.
“Relax. This will all be over soon, and we’ll be sipping scotch on the other side.”
“Fine. Just be careful. But look, I’m calling about something else…”
I perk up, sensing the uncertainty in Alex’s voice.
“Sophia Simms works at McMurphy.”
“Hailee’s friend, sure. I just met her tonight.”
“Hailee’s not aware of anything, but I’m making this call on her behalf. I can’t have anything happening to Sophia. No damage to her resume or her feelings. Nothing like that.”
“Of course.” I catch what he’s saying. Don’t sleep with her and throw her to the curb. I find it interesting that he’d bring this up tonight of all nights. It feels like he’s having me watched. “Are you spying on me, ?”
“No, why?”
“I never know with you.”
“It would be a favor to me. I don’t ask you for many, and you owe me one.”
“My word is my bond, Alex. Sophia will be fine.”
“She’s like twelve years younger than you anyway.”
I frown. Alex is also my age, thirty-six, and his girlfriend is a good deal younger. “Isn’t Hailee twenty-five?”
“Forget it. I’m saying I trust you. I just wanted you to be aware of her position on the game board.”
“Nothing is overlooked. Not even Sophia’s relationship with your girlfriend.”
“Thanks. Be safe and keep me updated.”
“We’ll talk soon, Alex.”
The call ends, and I stare into space. Already, my thoughts aren’t on the plan. They’re stuck on Sophia.
So, I can’t put my fingers in her mouth and my tongue on her clit. I hadn’t realized how pleasant of an idea that was until now. But I’m a man of extreme reserve. I don’t break bonds to others or myself. And this plan is far more important than any one girl.
So note to self—Sophia Simms is off-limits.
I pick up my glass of scotch and go into the bedroom. There’s a mess of blonde hair on the pillow. I trace my hand up a long tan leg until she stirs.
“What time is it?” Natasha says in her Russian accent.
“You know what time it is.” I brush my thumb over her lips, and with her eyes still closed, she greedily sucks it.
I start to get carried away before I remember.
I pull Natasha from the sheets and toss her over my shoulder. She lets out a playful shriek as I carry her towards one of the guest bedrooms down the hall.
But I’m a little bothered.
I know Sophia heard that.