Forbidden Lust

3

Barrett

Iwas the quiet one in the group. It wasn’t too hard when your mates were all so fucking loud. I noticed the bar patrons on the sky deck terrace shooting us daggers, then promptly turned around when evidently one of them recognized us, likely Connor.

He was all over the news, having just broken up with a Victoria’s Secret model, and if that wasn’t publicity enough, Connor was the Vice President of Diamond Incorporated—the largest media company in North America.

Years ago, Connor introduced me to Ari and Magnus, and the four of us had been tight since, bonding over our love of whiskey and craft beers, gorgeous women, and zero fucks about anyone else. Oh, and money, of course, we loved money. Ari’s grandmother owned an international fashion label, and Magnus’ family recently floated their third-generation tech company.

Unlike my friends, I didn’t have a trust fund I could fall back on. I had to make my own money, and fuck, I made it. The skyscraper we were sitting in, sipping on our ice-cold craft beers imported from Australia, I built.

Well, ZF Constructions, the company I owned, did. And yeah, if you're wondering, ZF stands for Zero Fucks. But that isn’t public knowledge, unlike my bank account balance Forbes divulged last year. Fuckers.

Now every gold-digging woman in Manhattan wanted my cock. Not that they didn’t before. Pussy was easy. Too fucking easy. Women fell into two categories—gold diggers and women who wanted a relationship, sinking their claws into me and never letting go. I wanted neither. Convenient fucks were where I drew the line.

“Barrett, you did well,” Connor said, holding up his glass and clinking it with mine. Ari and Magnus followed, clinking their craft beers with me as we sat around the oak table on the skydeck overlooking Central Park.

“Thanks, I have a great team.”

“Always so modest.” Ari slapped me between the shoulder blades.

“Yeah, man, you should be proud of all this. It’s remarkable,” Magnus added, wide-eyed as he took in the finishes and clientele.

Proud?I could never be proud of myself. Not if I built a thousand towers this grand. I didn’t deserve happiness of any kind.

My gaze followed Magnus and settled where round tables and chairs surrounded the curved marble bar. Wooden feature walls and soft furnishings softened sleek lines. I couldn’t lay claim to the design. My interior designer had an eye for detail and an edge that made us shine. That’s why I headhunted her from the competition. When I wanted something, I got it, whether it was staff or an award-winning tower. This skyscraper we built was a masterpiece. Celebrities and billionaires all wanted a residence at 21 Park, with the tower selling out before construction had even begun.

“It was Olivia who designed it,” I added.

“Olivia? Is that the one with the blonde bob who has inflatable lips I’d like to wrap around my—”

“Shut the fuck up, Magnus,” I snapped before he could finish.

He tilted his head. “Come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You’ve slept with half of Manhattan, for fuck’s sake.”

I narrowed my eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t shit where I eat.”

“I’d eat Oli—”

“Magnus, we get it. You’d eat her out if you could. I wonder how Leila feels about that. You know, your wife?” Ari questioned him, drinking the rest of his pale ale.

“My wife has cock up to her ears,” Magnus said, a slight twitch in his jaw. “Anyway, when’s the last time you got laid, Ari, or are you liking cock more these days?”

Ari abruptly pushed out his chair. “What the fuck, Magnus?”

Not that I made it a habit to know when my friends hooked up, but I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Ari with a woman.

“Fellas, chill,” Connor said.

“I’m more chill than a fucking cucumber,” Ari said.

I shot Magnus daggers. Puffy circles surrounded his eyes, and lines formed around the edges of his mouth. I knew little about married life, but shit, if you looked like that after being married three months, why do it?

“So you keeping this one too?” Ari asked, waving his hand around, referring to the skyscraper we were in. I’d built and kept several boutique hotels and smaller commercial buildings, but 21 Park was my biggest deal yet, and I sold her. Today.

“No. The deal’s done,” I said, gulping my beer. “How is Leila, Magnus?” I asked as he stared at the big-breasted waitress coming our way. Throwing him a bit more shade wouldn’t hurt.

“A man can look, can’t they? Leila certainly does.” He shrugged, his eyes not leaving the woman.

“What? Wait. You sold 21 Park?” Connor asked, slamming down his glass on the table.

Magnus, Ari, and Connor stared at me. I nodded, swiping a hand through my dark hair.

“What the hell, Barrett? We just cheered you for finishing 21 Park!” Ari said in confusion.

“To who?” Magnus asked as three sets of eyes stared at me like I had two heads.

“Russian billionaire, Nikolay Petrov. It will be in the Times tomorrow. I thought by now, someone would’ve probably leaked it.”

“No, Mr. Fucking Mysterious,” Connor said, visibly irritated. “This is a huge deal, Barrett. Why didn’t you tell us?”

I shrugged. Maybe I ought to have told the boys, but I didn’t see what difference it made to them if I did.

“Did you make a pretty penny?” Ari asked.

“Nearly doubled my in.” A smirk spread across my cheeks.

“Jesus, fuck.” Connor drank two fingers of his freshly poured glass of whiskey.