Desire (Venture Capitalist Book 3) Read online

  Closing my eyes, I groan a low guttural sound. God, I need this badly. With my right hand still massaging my breast, the left continues to play with my clit. Chills sweep through my body at the mere touch. My middle finger curls inside my sex, feeling the wetness inside me. My index finger joins the first, and I begin to slowly slide my fingers inside my slick hole. Squeezing my breast sends shivers to my pussy, and I moan as I work my fingers in and out. The sounds are music to my ears.

  I spread my knees farther apart in concentrated pleasure as I pick up speed. A stray finger finds my clit and starts to rub in vicious circles as I imagine he’s there with me. I groan a deep animal noise as my orgasm hits, and I come powerfully, my pussy climaxing over my fingers. I relish the waves of sensual bliss overtaking me, traveling throughout my body.

  I’m out of breath as I lie here, completely spent.

  I need him.

  Cameron

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Dude! You’re back,” says one of my team members as I exit the elevator to the lobby of our offices. I’m certain he was waiting for me.

  I’m glad to be back, but I needed the break, and I’m recharged. Mason, Dillon, and I are the three founding partners at SHN. This was the first time in almost a decade that I took any significant time away from the office. We began funding start-ups together as a hobby after the three of us had success at the ones where we worked. Over a round of drinks at a pub one afternoon, we decided it was time to pool our resources and share some of our luck, giving seed or angel funding to projects we liked as a side gig to our regular jobs. When four of our investments were bought for millions of dollars each, we quickly became addicted to the gamble and the high of identifying a winner when investing in an exciting idea, and we started our own fund. Since inception, we’ve invested in three hundred start-ups, and we’re still going strong.

  “It was a great week. Colorado and Yosemite were beautiful. How did things go while I was out?”

  “Everything went according to plan.”

  Annabel sashays up. “Hey, Cameron, Mason’s looking for you.”

  Before I can help myself, I ask, “Are you now going to mother us?”

  She giggles. “No, silly. I just left his office, and he mentioned he was excited to see you when you returned today.” She licks her lips, and it grosses me out a bit to think what she was doing with my friend.

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  I walk into our break room, and there’s a big breakfast spread on the center island—my favorite, pancakes and blueberry syrup. Piling a healthy helping on a plate and drowning them in butter and syrup, I walk into Mason’s office.

  “Hey, man. Your woman told me you were searching for me.”

  “Great. How was your trip?”

  “Good. Look, I think we need to have a conversation about your relationship with Annabel with the team and Charles on Sunday.”

  “Why?”

  “Man, the fact that you have to ask is reason enough. Do you plan on making her a partner next?”

  “I understand it’s a bit unordinary, and honestly I don’t know what we are right now.” Shrugging, he says, “She pursued me and is into me, and I think she’s cute.”

  “I think we need to discuss this as a team. Sara must be coming unglued right now.”

  “Relax. Annabel promised to keep it professional.”

  “Don’t you understand that they always say that until they’re unhappy—either in their job or with their relationship.”

  “I already spoke to Sara, and she’s okay with it.”

  Given the last conversation in Colorado, I don’t think that’s the case, but I’m not going to argue with him. We can discuss it as a team later. I don’t want to fight. “Great. What else do you need from me?”

  “I wanted to make sure you reached out to our investigator on the mole issue. He seemed to have some leads for us from the recent acquisitions.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  With that, I leave, thinking Mason is usually so much smarter. I wish I knew what the hell he was thinking. He’s not a guy usually guided by his dick, but I can’t think of any other reason why he’s doing this.

  I open my e-mail to find over six hundred messages. Thankfully, my team and admin watched them while I was out, so there are only about two dozen that need my immediate attention.

  After figuring out my plan, I finally reach out to Jim, our private investigator.

  A few years ago, we started seeing some of our business mysteriously going to a competitor. We figured we had an internal mole and hired a private investigator who specialized in corporate espionage. After a meeting with a tech company that went well, the next day our entire proposal and financial models were released to the press, and things imploded a little over a year ago. It could’ve been disastrous, but thankfully we had Greer on our team, and she created a strong public relations counter blitz. The information still hurt us financially, but it didn’t force us to close. We’ve changed some things up since then, and we work extensively with our private investigator and his security team.

  Jim answers after the first ring. “Jim Peterson.”

  “Hey, this is Cameron Newhouse. I understand you’ve made some headway in our mole situation.”

  “Well, our person, Quinn, at Perkins Klein has come up with more information on two companies you’re currently bidding on.”

  “Really? Which ones?”

  “Neotronix and Visionaire.”

  These are two companies with stiff competition to finance. Having them in our portfolio would further cement proof the mole isn’t affecting us like the mole might like. “Shit. What do we do now?”

  Jim explains an elaborate ruse he needs us to complete to possibly flush our mole out. I’m nervous yet confident that we may be seeing the light at the end of this tunnel. I’m ready to grow and not have to deal with the nonsense of a corporate spy in our midst.

  Before we end the call, I ask, “Jim, one of the employees who’s appeared on various lists as the mole has recently become very close to Mason. Do you have much on Annabel Ryan?”

  I hear a computer clicking in the background, and then he tells me, “We did a lighter search of her. She’s twenty-nine years old and lives in a shared apartment in the Marina. She has about $40,000 in debt between school loans and credit cards. No car. Her family lives in Southern California. She hasn’t made any big purchases, and her bank account at the time had $600 in savings.”

  “I would be surprised if I was alone on this, but I’d like a super deep dive done on her. Like I mentioned, she seems to have wormed her way into a relationship with Mason that has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.”

  “No problem. I’ll keep you posted on what I find out on Sunday.”

  I immerse myself in my e-mail and try to get caught up. At six, Sara stops by and asks, “Care to join a few of us for a drink about eight at the bar across the street?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you by the elevators.”

  I wonder how I can convince Hadlee to join us without being too obvious. I haven’t called her since I got back, but I can’t come up with a reason that doesn’t sound like anything more than a booty call.

  A more contrived reason to get together would be ideal.

  Mason, Annabel, Sarah, and her fiancée, Trey, join us. Since Annabel hasn’t adequately been vetted by Jim and his team, I’m not comfortable discussing much work-related progress, so we talk mostly about my ride home from the wedding and a bit of the trouble I found on my trip. Annabel is visibly bored by the conversation, and she whines to Mason. “Do you think we could head home? I’m exhausted.”

  Turning a slight shade of pink, he kisses her on the top of her head. “Sure.”

  After Mason finished business school, he kept telling us how to run our personal finances, so we usually stick him with the bill. Since he was convinced he was doing it so much better, he got to pay. He’s always a good sport about it, but when he reaches for the ch
eck this time, I hold my hands up and say, “My turn. I’ve got this.”

  He nods at me, and he and Annabel leave. I watch how she grabs his hand and seems upset with him.

  The three of us make small talk for a little longer when Trey finally says, “Well, since you two aren’t going to bring up the elephant in the room, I will. What the fuck is Mason thinking?”

  Sara shushes him. “We don’t pass judgment on anyone’s love life.”

  “Oh yes we do,” I chime in. “I asked Jim to do a deep dive on her for Sunday night. But how are you doing? She’s your admin.”

  “I’m not happy, but he’s the managing partner. What can I say or do?”

  “Sara, you’re a partner. You can absolutely tell him to stop thinking with his Johnson and think with his head.”

  “When are Dillon and Emerson due back?” Sara asks.

  Trey laughs. “If you’re trying to change the subject, that won’t work.”

  Shaking her head vehemently, she assures us, “Not at all. I’d like their perspective before we jump all over Mason.”

  She has a point. This should be a decision by all the partners, including Emerson and Dillon. “Okay, I’ll buy into that. They’re back next week, but I’m not exactly sure when. Let’s also get feedback from Jim before we do anything.”

  Sitting in our Sunday evening meeting at Charles Arnaut’s home, we have a fun group dinner prior to sitting as the management team in his office. Mason brought Annabel with him, and it makes some of the dinner conversation awkward. When we retire to Charles’s office, Annabel attempts to join us, but Charles politely says, “Annabel, this is a partners meeting. Margo would be happy to spend time with you while you wait for us.”

  She seems disappointed, which makes me a little happy. “Oh, okay.”

  “It’s okay, Charles. She can join us,” Mason interjects.

  “Actually, no she can’t. It’s against our bylaws.”

  Thank God Charles agrees with us about Annabel.

  “I forgot.” Turning to Annabel, Mason says, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  She gives him a deep kiss. “Don’t worry about it. I probably would’ve been bored anyway. I’ll ask if Margo would like some help cleaning up.”

  Charles pours an after-dinner drink for all of us while Jim starts the meeting with his review of Annabel. “She has about five thousand dollars in savings. We’re chasing the increase over the last few months. Her debt has also increased slightly. We put a tail on her, but she goes home each night with Mason. They don’t stay at her apartment.”

  Mason is bright red with anger. “Why the fuck are you investigating my girlfriend?”

  “Mason, Annabel joined us shortly before the mole started their work,” Sara explains. “She was also very determined to get involved with you. We need to protect ourselves. We did the same with each of us. She could be privy to all our inside information, and we need to be cautious.”

  Sara says it so much better than I ever could have. I would’ve been much more direct and probably only convinced him to propose or some shit and drive a wedge in our friendship.

  “I’ve shared all sorts of things with her and trust her completely,” Mason sneers.

  “What have you shared?” Jim asks.

  “These meetings, for example. And that we’re hunting for a mole.”

  “Have you told her we have someone in place at Perkins Klein?”

  “No.” He stops and seems to be thinking about his answer. “Wait, I don’t think so.”

  “You need to remember,” Jim insists.

  “I remember that when I told her about the mole, she was surprised and asked what we were doing. I told her we had several activities going.”

  What the fuck? This is pretty serious. What is he thinking?

  No blow job, no matter how spectacular, is worth jeopardizing the company we’ve all put our heart and soul into building. I want to reach across and shake him to make him understand.

  Breathe. In… out….

  Charles is obviously unhappy. “Mason, anything discussed in a partners meeting is not to be discussed outside of this group. Not with your mother, your brother, your best friend, and most certainly not with your girlfriend.”

  “She’s a sweet girl. I trust her,” Mason repeats.

  What the fuck? You trust her? No one else trusts her. Why can’t you think with your head instead of your dick? I swear you are not thinking with the right head right now.

  In… out….

  Jim patiently says, “You can’t trust anyone in a situation like this.”

  I want to kiss Jim. If Mason won’t listen to me, maybe he’ll listen to Charles and Jim.

  “We got our acceptance from Cynthia Hathaway for the Business Development role. She’s buying into a partnership. Does that mean we can’t trust her either?” Mason says dejectedly.

  That’s good news, at least. I liked Cynthia and thought during the interview process that she would add value to the company very quickly.

  “No. She was vetted, and background checked extensively. We can trust her.”

  “So was Annabel, and she’s been with the company for over three years,” Mason replies bitterly. “Plus, as part of the legal team, she has access to even more information with everything that crosses Sara’s desk.”

  Jim and Charles exchange looks of apprehension. Mason clearly doesn’t understand everyone’s concern. She has him whipped. Where’s my friend? He’s usually the first one on alert when it comes to the health of our firm.

  We can all tell that Mason’s struggling with this. Charles carefully says, “Mason, I get that questioning your girlfriend’s devotion may seem like an attack, and I would feel the same way if someone did that with my wife or kids, but please understand that we need to feel confident that what we say and do stays within our inner circle. We recognize Annabel will be ostracized by others at work because of her relationship with you. She may say things inadvertently and put all our work in jeopardy, which could take us back to square one with our hunt.”

  “Okay. I’m not happy, but I understand.” Staring at each of us, he impresses, “But I trust Annabel, and I think you can, too.”

  I definitely don’t think I can trust her. She’s been on my list since I first made it. She was always there, listening and working in the background. The perfect cover for the mole.

  Our meeting moves on to where things are with capturing information from some of Charles’s friends.

  As I drive back into the city later that night, I’m comforted to know that I’m not the only one whose radar is up on Annabel. I’ve known Mason for over fifteen years. He has always been the responsible one. I’ve been pegged as the irresponsible of the three of us. Annabel may be a nice girl, but she isn’t the right person for him. She wants to be in the limelight and doesn’t seem to want to share the attention. Mason is a self-made billionaire. He is the business behind our firm.

  I wouldn’t mind talking to Hadlee and getting her perspective on the situation. I got the impression that she isn’t too fond of Annabel either.

  Hadlee

  CHAPTER NINE

  It is a crazy Monday. I had twenty-five patients on my schedule when I looked early this morning, and the phones hadn’t even been turned on for those needing same-day sick visits.

  My cell phone rings and I’m not familiar with the number. Rather than answer the call, I walk in to see a patient.

  We’re just getting started when my medical assistant knocks on the door. “Dr. Hadlee, there’s an emergency. Can you please step out a moment?”

  Apologizing to my patient, I step out and ask, “Is everything okay? Have we called 911?”

  Maria is clearly nervous, wringing her hands. That isn’t normal. We have the occasional issue in the office when a child has a severe asthma attack or maybe an epileptic seizure, but she’s rarely this bad. “Dr. Hadlee, your tenant called. Your house is on fire, and the fire department is trying to put the fire out.”

  I
freeze. My stomach drops to the floor, and I find it difficult to breathe as her words finally register. Fire? How can that be? “What? What do you mean?”

  “I’ve called you a Lyft.” Glancing at her phone, she says, “They’re two minutes out.” She leads me to my office and guides me to put my computer away, helps me remove my lab coat, and finally picks up my purse and walks me outside to the waiting car. I’m in complete shock. Fire? How did that happen? Did I turn the stove off this morning after I made my breakfast? I’m sure I did. I don’t hear anything she’s saying to me until “Dr. Kim will cover your patients. Go home and take care of yourself.”

  “I don’t understand. How did the fire start?”

  She pushes me into the waiting ride share and tells them, “Put a rush on it.”

  The drive home passes in a blur: no traffic lights, no turning from one street to another, not even parking outside the yellow tape. The entire block is like something out of a horror movie, a ball of black smoke and red, white, and orange flames stretching from the broken windows and roof. The firefighters flooding homes with water from ladders and the street. There won’t be anything to salvage, not a damn thing. The air smells of burning, acrid, chemical-infused and choking. My eyes move from face to face in the gathering crowd, then water. I’m at a loss. What do I do? I stand here paralyzed.

  I spot my tenant. She has a blanket wrapped around her and looks disheveled, and I can see dried tears that have carved out the black ash on her face. I run up to her and we embrace. “Michelle? Are you, all right?”

  She looks at me. “Yes. I’m fine. I smelled the fire and then saw smoke. I called 911 and then your office. It didn’t start in your house.”

  “All that matters is that we’re fine.”

  “Hadlee, you’ve been a great landlord, and the first floor flat in your home was great, but I think this is a higher power telling me it’s time to move home to Minneapolis.”