Home > Breaking Love (Broken Love #4)

Breaking Love (Broken Love #4)
B.B. Reid



I WORE SUITS like a power play. Whether it was for pussy or for money, the suit spoke volumes so I didn’t have to. They were always tailored and designed by the most expensive hands in the fashion industry, and though it meant nothing to me, to the world it was everything.

It was money.

It was power.

It was an opportunity.

My walk through the expansive lobby of the high-rise Chambers M&A Holdings owned turned heads as it always did. My presence commanded attention. This was once my father’s and now it was mine. My father, at the age of fifty-five, decided to retire early, believing I was more than capable of taking over entirely.

I should have been.

He’d been grooming me since I was twelve.

I walked into my suite, located on the very top floor, with the same air of confidence. This floor was reserved for my office only and was accompanied by my assistant. Because of my long hours, I had a bedroom built into the suite as a second home.

“Good morning, Mr. Chambers.” She handed me a fresh cup of coffee on my way past her desk, and in return, I offered a curt greeting.

“Celesha.” I closed my door, which gave her strict instructions not to bother me for the next hour while I started my day by catching up on the abundance of emails that likely accumulated during the few hours of sleep afforded to me nightly.

Celesha was the second assistant I had hired after returning to the States two weeks ago and firing the first, who I had hired while in Germany, and had proved severely incompetent at assisting me with anything other than sex. For my personal needs, I indulged her, but when her pussy became boring, along with her constant need for more, I showed her the street.

This time, I made sure to hire someone who was married so I wouldn’t head down that road again. I was beginning to wonder what the point was in fucking if it never left me satisfied or wanting more beyond my basic urges.

I experienced what it was like to be addicted, and strange enough, I had become addicted to the addiction. There was only one person who could feed my addiction. One girl who I craved more than success or breathing.

I can still remember the sound of her clipped moans and the way her pussy yielded to my cock each and every time. Her curvaceous body hadn’t been made for just any man. She had been made for me.

I was her first and after all these years, I wondered if I was her only.

I could feel myself tumbling down a dark pit of rage. I angrily opened the first email and denied a request for a business meeting without reading the email thoroughly. It didn’t matter. I recognized the company as one I’d denied before. The owner was someone who was older and had been in the business for over twenty years. His arrogant behavior and shifty eyes were the reasons I denied his many requests for a merger. He thought he would be doing me a favor by gaining a controlling interest of the company my father had sacrificed his family and morals to build.

Two hours later, I was unsuccessfully trying to relieve the tense muscles in my back and shoulders when my office door opened and Celesha’s head peeked through.

“I have some mail for you.” She walked in, clutching a royal blue envelope. Its shape and size were untraditional to a regular piece of mail, not to mention the color. “It’s from your sister,” she offered unnecessarily.

“Thanks.” I plucked the decorated envelope from her hand and set it down, showing little interest in the contents when, in fact, a nervous twitch started in my fingers. “Before you go, I need you to fax these papers and then call to make eight o’clock reservations with Amifika’s.”

“Oooh, fancy. Date tonight?”

“Something like that.” I shot her pointed look and then watched her scurry away on her small gray pumps. I didn’t want to be a complete dick, but I was still warming up to her and feeling her out. Her married status ensured that I would keep from bending her over my desk, but it didn’t mean she had such reservations.

My dinner tonight was to ensure my father’s final approval and, hopefully, get him off my back once and for all. This business deal would be one that would affect the rest of my life, and it wasn’t entirely voluntary.

I could hardly wait.

* * *

“Mr. Chambers. Always a pleasure to have you. Your table for two is ready and your guest is already seated.” Mindlessly, I followed the maître d’ through the restaurant to the secluded table where she sat perusing the wine menu, no doubt seeking out the most expensive bottle.

I don’t have an issue with spending money.

I have an issue with people who don’t respect it.

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