Don’t be a scaredy-cat, I hiss internally to myself as I pause right outside the half-open office door. You’ve got nothing to worry abou—

“Enter.”

The deep, resonating voice rumbles from inside, making me gasp.

Slowly, I step forward, and my palm pushes the door open. And suddenly, there they are, right in front of me, both of them leaning against their respective desks, facing the door. I shiver as the eyes of both big, powerful, brooding men pierce into me. My skin tingles from those looks, and I can feel my core tighten as I clench my hands to fists to try to stop shaking.

“Hello, sirs, we haven’t formerly been intro—”

“Close the door,” Brock growls. There’s a gruffness to his voice and fierceness in both his and Seamus’s looks.

“Mr. Pierce, can I ask why you wanted to—”

“Close the fucking door,” Seamus hisses, his eyes narrowing on me. I literally bite my lip to hold back the whimper.

“You know why you’re here, Ms. Healy,” Brock growls lowly, and I tremble as both their eyes burn into me. Slowly, they stop leaning on their desks, and they begin to move towards me.

“S-sir?” I stutter out, panting as they move closer, towering over me. There’s an open door behind me, and part of me wonders if I could just run. But I’m rooted to the spot as the two big, gorgeous men move into me.

“No games, Noelle,” Seamus growls. “No bullshit. You know exactly why you’re fucking here right now.”

My head spins, and the room feels tighter, and warmer as they move closer, until they’re both standing right in front of me, looking fiercely down into my eyes.

“You’re in big fucking trouble, little girl,” Brock growls, his jaw clenching.

“Big fucking trouble.”

Chapter 2

Brock

“Big fucking trouble.”

The words snarl from my lips. Loudly. Loud enough for all of them down there to hear me. Because this isn’t just about her. This is about sending a message. I reach past her and shove the big office door shut with a sharp click.

Oh, that’ll send a message downstairs all right.

Seamus and I built Pierce & Horn with our bare fucking hands. We clawed our way up the fucking food chain in this city to get to where we are, and we even managed to do it without being in someone else’s pocket. This business is our empire. Our castle. It’s got our fucking names on the damn letterhead, and let me tell you, for two street kids who grew up in the gutters of Queens, that’s nothing short of miraculous.

We used to pride ourselves on being optimists, and on putting ideals before business deals. Back when the firm was new, we were friendly with our staff. After all, they’re the lifeblood of this business, even if it’s got two stalwart captains like us helming it. There was a time when we’d be down there right now at that holiday party. A time when that holiday party would be festive, and full of laughter instead of some shitty Spotify playlist and hushed whispers.

But that idealism is gone. That cheery, bright-eyed outlook we once had is gone too. It vanished the day we realized we were being fucked.

Two rival firms are getting jobs we should be getting, for one. And it’s not just that we’re mad at the competition, it’s that they’re getting those jobs before we can even pitch to them, using our pitches. Two fucking firms. And on top of that, someone’s skimming. It started small, but more and more, the leak is becoming a hemorrhage.

There’s a rat on this ship, and it’s trying to sink the whole fucking thing.

It’s been like this for at least a year. But yesterday, it came to a head. A major banking institution was vetting us to be their new information consultants. It was huge. Beyond huge. We’d prepared for over a year to land it too. And then, sure enough, a day before we had our final meeting with their board, we got word that they’d given it to Singletech, one of our rivals.

And wouldn’t you know, Singletech used the fucking exact pitch strategy we’d spent a year crafting. The same data. The same fucking talking points. All of it.

We could have just fired the whole damn company a year ago when this first started and been done with it. I know that. Seamus knows it. But, we couldn’t. Maybe it was that last shred of our humanity. The last little sliver left inside of us that wasn’t jaded beyond belief. We’ve been hunting for our leak covertly, but after yesterday?

Well, now it’s time for a fucking reckoning.

We knew it wasn’t Herb. Just like we knew it wasn’t Megan, from HR, before him, or Peter from sales before her. But the message is spreading, and I can feel the fear wafting up from the party below our office.

Tags: Madison Faye Erotic
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