Billionaire Decoded Read online

  "What a bitch," Melanie remarked before sipping her tea. "She actually barged into your office with that kind of an attitude?"

  Heather nodded. "And then some." She shrugged. "Brecken told me at dinner that she wasn't dealing with the breakup of their relationship very well. I get the feeling that he regrets going into business with her. It's like she's an anchor around his neck now. Can you imagine? My first day on the job and she's already accusing him of messing around with me?"

  Melanie shook her head and then insisted Heather describe everything they had for dinner, which she tried to do the best of her ability, but then there was nothing left to tell.

  "You're not holding anything back?" Melanie asked. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm positive, Melanie," she insisted. "He's cute and everything, and no doubt about it, he's filthy rich, but I'm not about to get involved in a relationship with my boss, especially when I just started. Besides, I think he's got all he can handle between his business and Alyson."

  "So exactly what you doing there? Accounting?"

  Heather nodded, although after what she had seen on the spreadsheets today, she knew that she wasn't dealing with billing accounts for the company itself, but merely for the employees and ingoing and outgoing invoices and receipts. She explained that, and Melanie seemed satisfied, although the question had gotten Heather thinking.

  For a company that focused on computer programming, they certainly pulled in an awful lot of money. There was more to Shaw & Burk that just computer programming, but she didn't know what. She supposed it didn't really matter. It was above her pay grade, and as a new employee, she believed that eventually she would learn more about the company, its history, the services they offered, and of course, where they generated most of their income. For now, however, she would focus on the billing invoices, accounts receivable, and when needed by HR, employee payrolls. Anything above and beyond that would probably just come later.

  She finished her tea and smiled at Melanie. "I should probably be getting home. I'll need to catch some shuteye so that I can concentrate on all those numbers tomorrow. I was trying extra hard today to focus. Despite my experience, it was a little intimidating. The amount of money that company pulls in is staggering! I have to be extra careful to keep all the zeros straight."

  Melanie laughed with her as she picked up her cell phone. "I'll call a cab for you. There's usually some cabs meandering around the block, but it is going on eleven, so I don't want you standing around at the curb."

  "Thanks, Melanie."

  Melanie dialed, spoke into the phone, gave the address, and then hung up, smiling at Heather. "Well, girlfriend, I will admit that I'm a bit envious. Then again, you deserve a break. It's about time you landed a job with a company that has a reputation and the funding of an outfit like Shaw & Burk. You've put in your dues and now it's time for you to start reaping the benefits."

  "Thanks, Melanie," Heather said, standing and moving toward the front door. "I'll give you a call tomorrow, let you know how things are going."

  "You better," Melanie said as she walked her friend to the door and then bid her goodnight.

  By the time Heather got downstairs and stood just inside the main front doors, she saw the cab pulling up out front. She left the building, gestured to the cab, and then climbed into the backseat. She gave the taxi driver her address. In a matter of ten minutes, the cab driver pulled up in front of her own apartment building. Unlike Melanie's building, this one was older, constructed of antique red brick and wood molding that looked a bit worn in places. Still, it was a nice enough and quiet enough neighborhood to suit her and her budget.

  She paid the taxi driver, climbed out, and then punched in the security code to get inside the building. The main door clicked open and she walked inside, digging her apartment key out of the bottom of her small purse. The building was equipped with one of those antique elevators that had two metal doors that you had to pull open and closed. Heather didn't like to take it because it looked rickety and it rattled and shook. She preferred the stairs – might as well get a little exercise.

  The stairs were constructed of heavy, highly polished oak. The middle of the steps were slightly concave, worn down by the shoes of hundreds, if not thousands of tenants over the past few decades. Heather stepped softly so her footsteps didn't echo too loudly as she made her way up to the third floor and her apartment, two doors down from the top of the landing.

  By the time she got inside, she felt bone tired. She supposed that some of her weariness was likely the aftereffect of a first day on the job, trying to concentrate so hard on the figures, the drama involving Alyson, and then of course concluding the evening with a nice dinner with the boss. For the first time today, she acknowledged the sensations that thrummed through her when she thought of Brecken.

  He was so handsome, so sexy. After all, he wasn't that much older than she, and he oozed charm. The more she thought about it, the more her pulse began to pound, and before she realized it, she was definitely feeling horny. She hadn’t had sex in… She started to count back and then pushed her last encounter from her mind. It had been over six months ago and had turned out to be more awkward than fulfilling.

  She tried to push thoughts of what Brecken might look like underneath his clothes out of her mind as she headed for the bathroom and a quick shower before bed. That way she wouldn't have to take one in the morning and she could lounge in bed for an extra ten or fifteen minutes.

  She undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile on the bedroom floor, and walked into her bathroom naked. She definitely felt some sexual urges tugging at her. She turned on the shower and after testing the water with her foot, stepped inside, allowing the water to wash over her. She reached for her bottle of lavender body wash, squeezed some of the thick gel into her hand, and then began to lather her body. As her hands grazed over her breasts, stomach, and hips, she decided the hell with it. She needed release.

  Leaning against the shower wall, the warm water pouring over her, her body slick and smooth with the luscious aroma of lavender, she stroked her hands over her breasts, tweaking her nipples and imagining Brecken doing the same. It wasn't her fingers playing with her nipples, it was Brecken’s. Strong. Firm. Confident.

  She slid her hands down her abdomen, past her carefully sculpted mound, and then cupped her pussy. She gasped. Damn, Brecken had certainly left an impression on her. With her left hand playing with her nipples, first one, and then the other, she began to masturbate, her thoughts filled with vivid and imaginative thoughts of Brecken standing naked and ready in front of her, his penis hard and erect.

  Then, he dipped his head and his mouth encompassed her nipples, sucking, gently tugging, and his tongue lathing them into hard little nubs. She imagined his engorged cock, hard and ready to plunge deep into her as he pleasured to her with his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers. She imagined him widening his stance, pulling her hips closer to him, and nestling the tip of his head against her slit. Then, slowly and steadily delving inside, filling her, and then stroking slowly in and out, his buttocks muscles clenching beneath her fingertips.

  It didn't take long for Heather to achieve orgasm as she stood in the shower, breathing heavily, with waves of pleasure washing over her. She had a feeling that she would enjoy working for Brecken, despite the unpleasant presence of his ex-fiancée. In fact, just thinking about him made her feel happier than she had ever felt before about getting hired for a new job.

  *

  To say that she had slept well the previous evening was an understatement. After pleasuring herself, she had climbed into bed and slept like a baby. She woke earlier than usual following morning, even before the alarm went off. She decided to make good use of the time. While her coffee brewed, she toasted a muffin and moved to the narrow counter that divided her kitchen from the living space. She turned on her computer, which she kept on the counter, and decided to do a little research on Alyson Shaw.

  By the time her computer booted up and she ha
d typed in some search terms, her muffin and coffee were ready. As she began reading, her heart sank. Crap. She’d found plenty of gossip articles about Alyson and Brecken and their whirlwind romance. As she already knew, Alyson co-owned the company with Brecken. Talk about a thorny work environment. The details regarding their breakup were scarce, but innuendo and the hint of a possible affair surrounded their tumultuous relationship.

  Yes, Brecken had told her last night that Alyson was crazy, but that was such a general comment. Chances were the most exes would say that about their former lovers, but what exactly did he mean by it? Heather had already gotten an unfortunate inkling of Alyson's attitude. She was a stuck up, spoiled, demanding bitch, but that had nothing to do with her business acumen. It looked like Alyson's family was rich, but not quite as rich as Brecken's. Her parents had passed away over five years ago. They had left the bulk of their estate to her and she was obviously doing pretty well on her own.

  Even millionaires had to invest their money to make it last years, decades…if not a lifetime, so it was apparent that Alyson had a good head on her shoulders. The fact that she had started a company with Brecken was even more of an indication that she knew what she was doing.

  Still, Heather didn't get the impression that Alyson was a computer whiz. Once again, she thought about Shaw & Burk. Could they possibly make that much money with computer programming? Did they work for the Defense Department, another government agency, or global entities? They had to be bringing the money in some way, but just computer programming?

  Maybe she would learn more about the company as she got more familiar with the digital books, but still, she was curious. Finishing her coffee, she got ready for work.

  Heather spent the day sitting in front of her computer working on spreadsheets. She didn't see hide nor hair of Brecken, which was probably just as well because every time Heather thought about him, she remembered what she had done in the shower last night and felt her cheeks flush with warmth.

  It was early February, and while it was still brisk and cold outside, it hadn't snowed in a week. As she took her break in the middle of the afternoon, Heather gazed out the window and wondered if she should schedule a spa appointment for the following day. Saturdays and Sundays had always been her usual days off, but it had been a busy week, what with her interview on Wednesday, her first day yesterday, and today being Friday.

  Would Brecken expect her to work on Saturdays? She wasn't sure. With the amount of money he was paying her, she supposed she wouldn't mind, although she was used to having her weekends free. Come to think of it, she didn't even know what her schedule would look like. Would she take weekends off, or would she get two days off in the middle of the week, or even one day early in the week, another day later?

  She opened the desk drawer and found the list of extensions for all the employees in the company, thought about calling Brecken to ask, but then decided not to. He was busy enough and didn't need to answer stupid questions. She could always call someone in the HR department, but she didn’t even want to do that. It might seem silly to ask. She would take the weekend off, unless of course, he called and told her otherwise.

  She put in a full day of work, her head spinning with numbers by the time five o'clock rolled around. She had a slight headache and wanted nothing more than to go home, have a nice dinner – which in her book meant something she didn't have to microwave – and probably just lounge around watching TV while she “defragged” her brain.

  So it was that her second day of work passed uneventfully. She would schedule a spa treatment for first thing in the morning, then go home and watch TV for a while, and then go to bed and crash.

  *

  Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, the sky filled with white, puffy clouds blowing high up above the city. It was a cool, blustery day, but there was no hint of snow in the air, so she was content. She enjoyed her Swedish massage at the spa and then the body wrap that followed.

  After she stepped out of the shower following the body wrap and began dressing, she noticed that she had missed a phone call. She looked at the screen, startled to see that the call had come from Brecken’s extension at Shaw & Burk. Shit. Was she expected to show up for work today? She tried to call him back, but he didn't answer. He wasn’t in his office, so maybe he wasn’t at work, either. She didn't think too much about it then, especially since he hadn’t left a voice message telling her to get her ass to work. She decided that if he needed to call her back, he would.

  As Saturday was her day for running errands and catching up on chores, she did just that on. After she returned home from the spa, she made out a short list, went to the supermarket, and purchased a couple of bags of groceries. Back home, she sat at the counter, sipping coffee and paying bills. She then decided to walk a few blocks to her local bank branch, thinking to talk to somebody about refinancing the loan she had gotten last year to pay off her school debt.

  After all, she would be making quite a bit more money now, and the thought of being debt-free in a couple of years was certainly tempting. Of course, she wanted to put some money away into a savings account, as well, just in case the job at Shaw & Burk didn't work out, but she would do her best to make sure that it did. She might not be able to find another job that paid so well. She had to make it work.

  By two o'clock that afternoon, she was pretty much done with all her chores and errands and was ready to leave the bank. No refinance. She had felt annoyed at first, but then decided she would just make extra payments, which would result in much the same savings when it came to interest.

  Even though it had grown a bit cooler outside, she decided to go ahead and walk home. The streets weren’t too crowded and the breeze was brisk as it blew through her hair, and she needed to clear her thoughts, anyway. She sat behind a computer eighty percent of the time, so getting outside and actually walking around felt pretty good.

  A few minutes later, however, she began to get a niggling feeling that somebody was following her. She glanced over her shoulder, looked at people walking along the street behind her, and noticed that nobody was paying her any particular attention. She glanced across the street. To her dismay, she noticed a tall man wearing a dark suit, holding up a cell phone and pointing it in her direction. He couldn't be taking a picture of her, could he? Why would he? She glanced at the building beside her, noticed the stonework, and decided that he was just a fan of early twentieth century architecture.

  She continued on, shaking her head at her silliness. Besides, a large number of people she passed on the street were holding cell phones, some pausing right in the middle of the sidewalk to text. It was so annoying. Still, she felt a little unnerved. She thought of Brecken. He was probably followed all the time, probably experienced nosy people and gossip magazine photographers snapping pictures of him doing every little thing. That would certainly be frustrating and exasperating. Did he even run his own errands or did somebody do it for him? She supposed that someone as well-known and good looking as Brecken would certainly find it difficult to move about unnoticed, especially in a city where his face was familiar.

  She gradually made her way back to her building and up to her apartment. She would call her mom and read the newspapers. She made a daily habit, or at least tried to, browse through paper versions of the New York Times and The Economist that she had subscriptions to. She had to pay extra for paper delivery, but to be honest; she was frankly tired of reading everything on the web. After spending all day on the computer, she wanted off! Once in awhile it felt good to hold paper between her hands, to step away from the computer and actually read something, smell the ink on the paper, and feel the texture of paper beneath her fingertips.

  She finished putting away her dry groceries and cans that she had picked up earlier. She then grabbed the papers from the kitchen counter and plopped down on the couch. As soon as she took the rubber band off the New York Times paper and unfolded it, she was surprised to find, above the fold, an image of Brecken above a
secondary headline: "Man of Mystery."

  What the hell? She knew that Brecken was often in the news, and she herself had Googled him before going to the interview the other day. While he mainly seemed to be present in a number of gossip columns, she did find a few articles about the early formation of his company, his money, and a few interviews about his quick rise to success in the computer industry. Nevertheless, as she read the article, she realized that Brecken and his company was no stranger to controversy. In fact, she read with alarm that the company had been accused of not only tax evasion, but holding shell companies.

  Seriously? Shell companies? She would have to do some research on her own, but as far as she knew from the spreadsheets she had seen, there was not any unusual activity. Then again, she was not the firm's tax accountant and didn't handle paperwork related to direct negotiations or dealings of the company. But tax evasion and shell companies? She read through to the end of the article, but saw no mention of any evidence or proof of such accusations. Without any substantiation, she knew that such accusations were well below the regular standards of the Times. She glanced at the byline of the writer of the article and then looked him up on her computer.

  The guy was a hack, or a least, after reading a few of his other articles and discovering that he had been sued several times for slander, it seemed the guy appeared to be focused on controversial headlines. But to make the front page? Of the New York Times? That was unusual. She wondered what kind of pull he had with the editors at the paper. The Times was better than that. Once in a while it did try to sensationalize gossip and rumor, but they also put themselves in a very risky position doing so. She shook her head. Printing unsubstantiated rumors? What were they thinking?

  While Heather continued to read through the paper and then through the Economist, she went back several times to reread the article about Brecken. While she had wondered herself how the company made all their money, she didn't believe for a minute that Brecken would be involved in anything illegal. Then again, what did she know? She had only worked at his company for a couple of days, not nearly long enough to become familiar with its operations. She hoped not. She wanted her job – and the benefits that came along with it.