Wildfire (7 page)

I rip open the envelope to find a letter, typed on his letterhead, copied to his assistant and his attorney.  Janice turns to leave.

“Wait,” I call to her. “You’ve got to see...you’re not….oh fuck. Oh my fucking…oh fuck! How could be I be so stupid? They aren’t just Valerie’s friends. They’re his too! How could I be so damn dumb?”

“I don’t know what this is about, but it can’t be that bad,” Janice says, taking the letter from my hand and give it the once-over. “Oh my god.”

Pushing my chair back from my desk, I turn so she can’t see how pale my face has gone. I ask her to read it again so I can hear it and formulate some kind of cogent thought before my head explodes.

“Dear Miss Sharp,” she starts reading with a distinctly snotty tone, which doesn’t help. “It has come to my attention that among the assets of Lynx Magazine is an as-yet unpublished story about the brokerage firm of Tilden-Jennings. As you know, by court order Lynx remains a part of Sandstone Ventures and you are subject to your original contract. Part of that contract stipulates Sandstone’s ability to make and override business decisions we feel are prudent to the long-term health and profit of Sandstone Ventures. As such, I declare the Tilden-Jennings story to be detrimental to our interests—”

“
His
interests,” I add unhelpfully, my blood already boiling.

“Henceforth,” Janice continues reading. “I forbid you to print, use, or disseminated to anyone else the article, its research or its conclusions. This story will not be printed as long as you and Lynx Magazine remain property and have ties to Sandstone Ventures.  Sincerely Yours, Mark L. Stone, Acting CEO, Sandstone Ventures.

“Can you believe this shit?” I ask Janice.

“He has a written note on the back, in case you didn’t see it,” Janice adds helpfully. She turns the paper around and on the back written again in Mark’s precise script are two words. “Bury it.”

Janice places the paper down on my desk and gently walks toward the door.

“Tell Justin to go home,” I tell her. “I’m not going to have anything for him today.”

“Yes Ma’am,” she says quietly.

Submission, subjugation, surrender, where does it end? When does what’s good for me become what’s bad for me, and how will I know when I’ve cross that line? What am I giving up, and why would I?  All the questions come swirling around me so fast I can’t answer any one of them. But I don’t have to because raw blinding anger is soon replacing any rational or philosophical thought in my head.

“Dear Mr. Stone,” I write in an email sent to both his personal and private addresses. “You’ve got a lot of nerve telling me what to print and what I can’t. Haven’t you heard of freedom of the press?  You can’t stop me, and you shouldn’t try.  What you are you going to do? Sue me? Go ahead; I’ve about two hundred dollars left in savings.  Fire me?  Been there. Arrest me? Done that!  Get out of your fucking ivory tower and explain yourself or I’ll not only publish this story, I’ll publish this letter and burn what’s left of your business down!”

I sign it “J. Sharp” just to let him know that no lovey-dovey conversation is going to happen over this travesty. If he wants to play ball in my court, then he better come equipped with a helmet, and a cup!

I fume and stomp around the office. I try to think of any way to appeal this decision without ruining my career. Just what do the Stone brothers have against a girl making a living anyway? I alternate between fury, self-pity and revenge every few seconds. It takes forty-five minutes for my email to chime a response. It’s not very long.

“I will be at your office at 7:00 PM to discuss. Be alone.”

I distract myself with other duties until five when the staff starts filing out. They all have a comfortable smile because the sight of me clomping in my office in circles and pulling out my hair tells them everything is back to the way it used to be.  I force Janice to leave at six. The elevator dings at ten minutes to seven.

I run behind my desk, pull out some papers and pretend to be working on them when he walks through my office door closing it behind me.

Mark walks in, his eyes on fire and his jaw clamped shut. “Who do you think you are?”

“Me? Who the hell do you think you are?” I counter. If he wants to come in here with a head of steam I plan to meet him just the same way.

“I think I am the CEO of Sandstone Ventures and you will listen to what I say!” Mark hisses. His tie is hanging open around his neck and his top button is undone. I can tell he’s had a tough day and I’m sure my tirade isn’t making it any nicer. But dammit, I worked too hard to let him do this to me.

“You’re only the President because I helped you get rid of your asshole brother so you can take the reins. And what do you do? What is your first act in charge?” I pick up his letter and fling it at him. “This!”

Mark dodges the letter and turns on me in a fury.

“Oh yes, Julia. You were such a help in saving my company. What did you do? Get arrested not once but twice? Tip off Blake and everyone else on the planet that we were trying to gather evidence and accuse me of fucking Valerie James! You were a
big
help.”

“You were fucking Valerie James,” I say completely losing sight of the fact we are fighting over the Wall Street story.

“In the past!” He bellows.  “Now, I’m fucking
you
!”

“Not anymore,” I huff. “No story, no fucky. Is that how you like it?”

“Look,” he turns, trying to be rational although for a moment there I thought I saw him give a quick smile. “I know those people. I work with them. I can’t be a party to their downfall. This story is bigger than me or you or Lynx or Sandstone. A lot of people are going to get hurt.”

“People who break the law and ruin people’s retirement accounts need to be hurt,” I counter almost catching my breath. “Besides, a magazine isn’t a charity.”

“Well you wouldn’t know a hell of a lot about charity – or grace – would you?”

“Get out,” I glower. “Get the fuck out of my office.”

“It isn’t your office. Not really. It’s Sandstone’s isn’t it? Or did you miss it when the judge said that?”

“Get out!” I scream and reach for the vase of flowers he sent me.  I throw it and he turns just quick enough to block the shot with his shoulder, sending the vase careening into a bookshelf and shattering.

“That is it,” He says. He’s got that look. He’s back in control again, and he’s about to take control of me.

Pressing and pushing me back toward the wall he crowds and presses me until we are only about an inch apart. I feel his breath, his heart seems like it is pounding through his chest and when he traps my hands and holds me against the wall I lose all control.

He kisses me roughly, his lips pushing, surging, forcing his tongue between mine. I resist just long enough to realize I don’t want to resist. Wrapping my arms around him I kiss me back as he drags me to the center of the room. He twirls me, pushing me hard and strategically grabbing my arms until my desktop is all I see.  His hand pushes me down hard against the desk, his other runs up my thigh, setting me ablaze.

“Sounds like you still need some lessons,” he growls, rubbing the back of my thighs. I reach back and pull up my skirt.

“Then teach me,” I gurgle unable to contain my desire, lifting my hips to afford him entry. If he thinks he’s taking me, he’s got another time coming – I’m giving myself.

Yanking my panties down, I feel the head of cock run up and down my nether lips a few times  parting them just enough to reveal the wetness churning inside my core. He slowly inserts his tip into me, watching as my hips rock back and forth trying to pull him further and further inside me.

“Want it, huh?” He chuckles still keeping himself on the very inside of my opening, imprinting me with feelings of his presence and absence at the same time. It’s maddening.

“You know I do,” I manage to answer trying once again to buck or come up with some movement that will bring him fully into me.

“Then have it,” He laughs as he plunges his cock deep inside me, parting my body like a hot knife through butter.  I am instantly filled and skewered by his manhood and my mouth drops open in response the overwhelming sensations. Not one to let me settle in, he starts thrusting, his rough, unhinged pounding taking over the rhythm of my pulse and pushing me up against the desk. The sound of his balls slapping against my skin echoes throughout the office and becomes the symphony of this hard ride.

I grip the side of my desk as I feel my body already clinching, wanting and pulsing. I want to outlast him, I want control, I want to win this, I want…I want….I want…Oh God I want...

Shimmering spasms course throughout my entire body, as if the orgasm was actually coming through my spine and every nerve ending in my body was screaming in ecstasy. I shut my throat intending to keep this at least a silent O, but the sound tears through my resistance and a pleasing, soul charming gasp seems to leak out of my very throat.

My body goes limp underneath him and for a moment I think it’s because the orgasm has shattered every bone in my body and turned me to dust. Only then do I realize there is so much slack because he has experienced an explosion of his own, deep within me, and can barely hold himself up any longer, let alone me.

Mark leans over and kisses the back of my neck lovingly before staggering to the chair he pushed up against the wall. He manages to zip his pants on the way, and by the time I manage to pull my own undies up and slowly move to my side of the desk, he has almost caught his breath, although his sweat stained hair betrays his effort.

“My god, you’re one hot woman,” he says breathlessly with a smile.

“I can’t see,” I say, shaking my head to clear the double vision left over from the sudden rush of adrenaline and endorphins in my system.

“Trust me, babe,” he says with a huff. “You look good.”

We sit quietly facing each other while our bodies, souls and minds put themselves together. He starts smiling, as if he just ate the sweetest piece of pie on earth and knows where he can find more.  As usual it’s me who breaks the silence.

“So, what do we do now?” I ask.

“Well for starters,” he says rubbing his shoulder. “Next time I think I’ll catch the paper, and dodge the flowers.”

I laugh, even though I don’t want to appear weak or happy, both of which I am at this moment.

“I’m serious, Mark. We can’t go on like this. Fighting over decisions, fucking out of frenetic energy. Something is going to have to change.”

“Let’s ditch the fighting, and keep the frenetic fucking,” he says.

“I’m serious!” I say, again fighting the urge to smile.

“So am I,” he says gently. “I’ve taken care of the fighting, but I wanted one more frenetic fun session over the desk before we journey into the next room of our love.”

“What room? What care? What are you talking about? What have you done?”

“Okay,” he sits up and puts his hands together in a gesture of supplication. “Confession time. Today was a set up. I want us to remember the passion and rough love we shared in my office, and now your office. I want us to have that possibility always before us.”

“You were just trying to make me mad? Wait. It was a ruse? You aren’t going to stop me from running the story?”

“I can’t.” He replies with a smile.

“Technically, you can,” I remind him. “You might have written that letter to set up your scheme, but it’s all true. As long as Lynx is a part of Sandstone you can overrule me, and as long as the Wall Street assholes are your clients and friends you will.”

“As long as Lynx is part of Sandstone,” he says wagging his finger. “And that’s only going to be until tomorrow morning.”

My heart, just a few minutes ago pounding like it was planning to burst through my ribs is now sinking to the pit of my stomach. These Sandstone boys are some sick bastards.

“Now you’re closing me?” I say, an absolutely look of disgust crosses my face. “This was just one last screw before you screw me?”

Mark laughs so loud I think pictures are going to fall off the wall.

“Julia, dear, you are so dramatic.  No, I’m not closing you. I’m freeing you.” He can tell by the look on my face that I’ve reached the pinnacle of confusion and have no choice but to listen to him. That’s why he does things this way.

“I don’t understand,” I confess.

“I can’t let that story run. But, if you’re not a part of Sandstone, there’s nothing I can do about it. So today I arranged for the sale of our shares we gained when we fronted you the capital. The new owners take over at midnight.”