Chapter 2
Chester
Stretching as I made my way to the large window of my bedroom, I looked down at the city below.
The purple haze of the sky was glittered with the surrounding lights of the buildings, just waiting for the sun to relieve them.
I placed my hand on my lower back and jutted my hips forward in a morning stretch.
Just clad in my boxer briefs, no one could see me up this high in my tower of a penthouse.
It was why I chose the place. Not only for the view, but for the privacy to do what I wanted and with whom.
The pretty penny I paid for it was worth it.
I strode for my closet, the overhead lights flicking on as soon as I opened the door to the warm, wood-paneled room.
I changed into gym shorts and a cut-off tee that I had set out the night before for this morning’s training session, followed by a pair of the latest workout shoes.
I laced up the clean white strings tightly.
The building’s gym was occupied by only a few other residents of the building, the usuals I would see at this hour of the morning.
I gave them a tight-lipped nod as I passed, turning up the music on my headphones as I usually did.
I wasn’t one for small talk. Thankfully, no one ever tried and the gym was spacious enough to keep my distance so I could focus on my workout.
I grabbed a set of weights from the black metal rack and faced the floor-to-ceiling mirrors to begin my set of bicep curls. Not before long, beads of sweat dampened above my brow as I grunted through the last and heaviest set. All the while, I ran through the list of things I had to do that day.
Shower.
Breakfast.
World domination.
Not really, but it may as well be in the business I was in.
I was to take over my third business of this year.
The press called it a merger, but I saw it for what it really was; I was buying a company for dirt cheap.
It was being liquidated, and I got to buy up its assets for pennies.
Nonprofits weren’t exactly my forte or really anything I cared about, but I knew it looked good for me.
Yesterday’s paper even called me a charitable man, which was a bald-faced lie, but again, good for business.
The press was never this kind. I was usually called a “hatchet man” by journalists and former employees of mine.
Former for a reason. I took it as a compliment, but others didn’t see it that way.
It wasn’t my job to protect anyone’s feelings, or livelihood, for that matter.
My job was to come in and see where the weaknesses were and cut them out for bigger and better things.
If people could just see it was for the good of the company, then maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to slander me.
But the numbers didn’t lie. Every company I had acquired or “merged” with had doubled in numbers at the very minimum.
I smirked to myself as I picked up the set of weights from the bench and began pressing them overhead.
I was good at what I did. People just needed to have a villain or someone to blame for their shortcomings.
It didn’t bother me. I lived in the greatest city in the world, in this luxe building, with more money in my bank accounts than I knew to do with.
After about thirty more minutes and my final rep of upright rows, I set the weights back down on the rack with a dull clank and toweled off my brow and the back of my neck.
With music still pulsing through my ears, I headed for the frosted glass doors of the gym and pushed through them, aware of the eyes on me as I left.
It was what came with being the richest man in the building.
Hell, the richest on the upper east side.
Back upstairs in my apartment, I ran the shower and waited for the steam to rise to the high ceilings.
I stripped out of my damp gym clothes and stepped into the shower, my skin welcoming the heat of the water as it sprayed against my back.
I closed my eyes and my to-do list popped back in my head, as it so often did. Business was always on my mind.
First things first…
Coffee.
Then I had to meet with the lead accountant.
I needed a rundown on finances to see how far in the hole this nonprofit was and where I would need to cut down and cut out.
This needed to be done before heading into the first major company meeting where I would have to plaster on a smile as I met the employees of the office, all while mentally picking and choosing which were going to stay and which were going to go.
I had a pretty good sense just by looking at people. They either had it or they didn’t.
Once I was rinsed off and smelling of sandalwood and vetiver, courtesy of a recent shopping trip to Bloomingdale’s where the woman behind the counter was very convincing, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. With my palm, I wiped a circle into the fog of the large mirror that hung above the white quartz countertops.
I quickly brushed my teeth and shaved before running a pomade through my damp sandy brown hair.
I quickly dressed in my freshly pressed navy suit that the dry cleaners had delivered to my door just last night.
Paired with a crisp white button-down and a matching silk blue tie, I was ready to head to the office over two hours earlier than I needed to be there.
It was better to be early than on time, even if it was excessively early.
I had my town car driver drop me off at the coffee shop just down the block from the office building before dismissing him with a single wave.
The aroma of freshly ground beans wafted toward me as I stepped up the threshold and through the open glass door.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I slid it out and glanced at the screen, curious as to who was calling this early in the morning.
Will.
“Hey, man,” I answered, stepping into the short line of the coffee shop, my eyes darting immediately to the perky ass of the redhead in front of me. I raised my brows, impressed.
“Chester! Have you started making anyone cry yet?” asked Will with a smirk surely plastered across his lips.
“Not yet. But it’s only five-thirty. There’s plenty of time.”
He laughed.
“What are you doing up so early?” I asked curiously, stepping forward in the line.
“I never went to bed.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I chuckled as I made my way up to the counter where the barista was waving me forward.
“Cappuccino to-go please,” I said. I quickly tapped my platinum card against the reader and moved to the side to wait for my drink.
“That sounds good right about now,” said Will sleepily on the other line.
“What had you out all night?” I asked.
“I played a show. An open mic really.”
“You didn’t invite me?” I asked, feigning hurt in my voice.
“Next time. I wanted to check out this new bar first,” he replied.
“You mean you wanted to make sure you didn’t suck before inviting your best friend to see you?” I chided.
I knew Will was good. He’d always been good, ever since he played guitar covers on the second floor of our dorm at the wee hours of the morning. It was a good thing he could carry a tune, or the RA would have kicked him out, and I didn’t want another roommate.
“You already know I’m awesome,” said Will assuredly.
“Cappuccino to go!” announced the barista loudly at the end of the glossy wooden counter.
I nodded her a silent thank-you and grabbed the white cardboard cup.
I headed for the door, but not before sneaking another glance at the redhead’s marvelous ass as she poured cream and sugar into her coffee cup.
“You nervous?” asked Will, bringing me back to reality.
“For?”
“Oh, I don’t know…taking over a new company?” I could practically hear him rolling his eyes, as he was probably wandering back to his penthouse in Chelsea.
“I’m pretty used to it by now.” I shrugged, breathing in the fresh morning air as I walked past several glass buildings until reaching the tallest one with large concrete pillars. My building.
“True.”
“You’re cool with it, right?” I asked. “This whole nonprofit thing, I mean…”
“Obviously. I trust you, man.”
I nodded and took a sip of my cappuccino.
I knew better than to ask Will about my business moves.
He may be my silent partner, but he knew I had his best interests in mind as I continued growing my—our—empire.
I wouldn’t be where I was without him. I grew up far from wealthy, but Will came from money, though that was the very last reason why he was my best friend then or now.
Out of college, we ended up starting our first business together.
I was the brains and he was the creative director.
From best friends to business partners, it all just clicked, neither of us realizing where it would take us.
Years later, I continued on and he took a backseat, comfortable with the fortune he had acquired and wanting to pursue his other passions, like music.
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it more ways than one.
“Good luck today,” he said.
“Thanks, Will,” I said, gripping the cool, metal handle of the heavy glass door and pulling it.
I stepped into the expansive lobby, my shoes echoing against the freshly polished marble floors.
The place was empty, save for the custodian finishing up the floors at the back right of the room that was just now beginning to fill with the sun’s rays.
I gave him a nod and headed for the elevators.
I checked my watch. It was just before 6 a.m. No one would be here for at least another two hours, though if one were trying to make a good impression on their new boss, they would already be here.
Up in my office, I unbuttoned the bottom button of my jacket and settled into my large wing-backed leather chair.
I looked around my office at the dark wood shelves of books and framed accolades, drumming my fingers mindlessly on my desk in front of me.
I checked my emails and sifted through paperwork on my desk that I had already gone through.
Perhaps 6 a.m. was a little too early, but I was eager to get the ball rolling.
I just wish the rest of the office was. I took a sip of my cappuccino and opened my phone.
I mindlessly scrolled for a little while before searching for a livestream to have on in the background as I went through my calendar for the day.
I nearly choked on my cappuccino, my throat sputtering, as my eyes took in the video playing on my phone.
I wiped at my mouth and leaned forward to make sure I was really seeing what was playing.
Sure enough, it was a blonde woman taking a shower, her wet leg propped up on the edge, giving a full view of the sleek beauty between her legs.
I raised my brows as the corner of my mouth lifted.
My morning just got a hell of a lot more fun.
I leaned back in my desk chair, bringing my phone with me to enjoy the show.
She was tan and curvy, water dripping from her full breasts as she leaned forward.
Her long blonde hair was braided down her back as she used a purple razor to shave.
She seemed to be talking to herself, though I could hardly focus on what she was saying.
Nor did I think the other quarter million viewers who were tuning in could.
Suddenly the phone was tumbling down, glimpse of tan skin and white bath towels and water droplets along with it.
I could hear a shrill curse word and a scream before the livestream shut off abruptly.
I chuckled to myself, realizing she was not intentionally putting on a show, but I was definitely entertained.
My erection pressing through my slacks was a testament to that.
Disappointed I hadn’t signed on earlier, I curiously looked for the name on the livestream.
Juliet97.
I tapped the name, which brought me to her profile. I studied her small, circular picture first. Tan skin, blue eyes, pale blonde hair, and a wide smile. Hot as hell. I went on to read her bio.
Juliet.
NYC.
Paying it forward.
She lived here in New York. Interesting.
Then I did a double-take as I read where she worked. It couldn’t be possible. She was an employee at the company I was to take over today…