And as I’m processing that bizarre declaration, he hoists me up onto the counter and takes my mouth in a deep, darkly possessive kiss.
44
Marcus
“No, no more. I’m so sore,” Emma groans, rolling off the bed when I cup her breast, and I reluctantly let her go, though I could gladly go for round two. Or three—depending on whether coming on her ass this morning counts.
Fuck, no wonder she’s begging for mercy. I have zero control around her. And hearing about her ex-boyfriends didn’t help. I all but lost it, picturing her with those pimply-faced idiots—which is how we ended up back in bed despite my best intentions.
I was going to be a gentleman and keep my hands off her until tonight.
I really was.
She’s wisely decided to remove the temptation by disappearing into the bathroom, so I get up and get dressed, ignoring the contemptuous stares from the cats. Well, two of the cats; Cottonball seems to have warmed up to me a bit, and his green gaze is merely chiding.
Like his siblings, he thinks I’m a sex-crazed beast.
“Come here, buddy,” I mutter, sitting down on the one and only chair and patting my knee when Emma takes her sweet time in the bathroom. “I need a distraction so I don’t attack your pretty owner again.”
The cat eyes me dubiously, then saunters over and jumps onto my lap. I shake my head and start petting him, still amazed that he trusts me to hold him. Aren’t animals supposed to be able to tell when people like them? Not that I dislike this particular cat; he seems to be nicer than most.
By the time Emma comes out of the bathroom dressed in her short pink robe, Cottonball is purring loud enough to wake the neighborhood, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying myself. In theory, I should be hating all of this—the cats, the dingy apartment, the lumpy bed that’s half a foot too short for me—but instead, I feel good, much too good considering how little sleep I got last night and how much work is likely waiting for me at the office. Normally, I’d spend a good portion of my weekend poring over my analysts’ reports and reviewing our biggest positions, but all I’ve done over the past two days is spend time with Emma… and it’s all I want to do. I’ve barely checked my email today. In fact, this may be the most relaxing Sunday I’ve had since… well, since grade school.
I started managing money—mine and my classmates’ in college—and I haven’t been this calm since.
As if on cue, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. For a moment, I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but then my sense of responsibility kicks in. There are billions of dollars and hundreds of employees’ jobs on the line. I can’t ignore that just because I want to spend the rest of the day with Emma.
Setting the purring cat on the floor, I pull out the phone.
Sure enough, it’s Jarrod—who only calls me on the weekends in case of major fuck-ups.
“What?” I bark, my adrenaline already surging.
I don’t have a good feeling about this.
My CIO doesn’t beat around the bush. “It’s bad. The municipals team just called me. Remember that high-risk bond we bought a couple of weeks back? Well, the municipality’s capital raise just failed—something about a local politician getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s just hitting the newswires now.”
Fuck. I leap to my feet. “How deep in the hole are we?”
“Right now? Three hundred mil, but rumor is, they’re going to declare bankruptcy on Monday.”
Thus rendering our entire $700 million investment worthless.
Motherfucker. We’re about to have our first down month this year—and right before Alpha Zone, too.
“Tell them to liquidate what they can,” I order, my mind already scrambling for solutions. “And call an emergency meeting of the PMs—we need actionable short-term ideas.”
“On it,” Jarrod replies and hangs up.
Emma is now in front of me, a worried frown on her face as she gazes up at me. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at your fund?”
I nod, grabbing my coat from the back of the chair. “A trade gone bad. I have to go into the office.” I know I sound brusque, but I can’t help it.
We’re about to lose $700 million, and I almost didn’t pick up the phone, too caught up in her spell to think straight. Fuck, what am I talking about? I should’ve gone over the investment with a fine-toothed comb this Saturday, like I was planning to do before Emma ended up in my bed. My municipals PM is good, but I’m better at seeing the big picture. I might’ve spotted some red flag regarding the politician, and we could’ve liquidated yesterday, before the news of the embezzlement hit. But no. I was with my redheaded obsession, and I couldn’t tear myself away from her. In one short weekend, I’ve become so addicted to her that I’ve lost sight of what matters. Even now, knowing the fund is in trouble, a part of me wants to stay with Emma instead of rushing to the office, to fuck my worries into submission rather than dealing with the fallout of my mistake.