2
1220 Words
*Mason’s POV*
“Okay, dīckhead. Enough. You have 24 hours to decide if being business partners would benefit us both. Google me. I’m sure you will see why I need you. My name is Esmé Gonzalez.” She told me before she stood up and left my office. My hands itched to grab her and throw her over my knee as I spanked her asš then shove my dīck in her mouth. She was sassy, that I could see. I liked sassy.
I started up my computer and went straight to Google. I typed in Esmé Gonzalez’s name, and a shīt load of things came up.
Pictures of her dressed to kill and a news article from ten years ago. The headline “Family of three slaughtered, oldest daughter missing.” I clicked on the article, sped read through it, then came up with a family picture. There she was, standing next to her mother. They were identical. Then one sentence caught my eye. It read “It appears the killings were mafia-related, but this is still an open investigation. Therefore, no more information can be provided.” And there it was. That’s why she wanted me. Fūck me.
I juggled between the legal business as well as my side businesses. I assisted capos worldwide with all their computer needs from hacking, encrypted messages, payments to other capos or sellers, IT, etc. That is what drives my adrenaline.
I always dealt with them over the phone, never seeing them face to face. Nevertheless, I trained, and I had a killer shot. I tried not to kill anyone, but I have. Some say I’m ruthless and that I should be in the mafia. I’ve thought about it, but I am not so sure I want to be hiding in the shadows for the rest of my life.
TriTech Web Developments was my father’s dream. I am not going to lie. I love messing with computers and hacking the systems, but I didn’t want to do it in a massive building in New York. I did not have a choice in the matter since my father died two years ago from a heart attack, leaving me his company.
I have to tread lightly here, so she is the heir of a mafia. What the f*ck did she want with me? I began digging, looking for any information about this woman, coming back empty-handed. She was clean as a whistle. She did go to college and graduated with honors. Smart girl. I was so deep in investigating her that I didn’t notice I had spent the whole day on her.
I grabbed my phone and keys, leaving the office and going back to my house. On my way home, all I could think about was her. What the fūck is wrong with me?
I can’t help her, that’s it. Tomorrow morning I will be emailing her telling her that I won’t be helping her with whatever she needs me for.
Putting my car in park in front of my house, I decided to call her instead of waiting till tomorrow.
“Mr. Walker, I see that you finally decided on having a conversation with me.” She said, answering the phone.
“Ms. González, I see that you have all my information just as I have yours. I hope you understand, but I can’t work with you. I am not even sure what you need from me.” I replied to her, sounding professional and not like a dīck head.
She began laughing over the line, making me take the phone away from my ear to look at it. Was I going crazy, or was she crazy? “I like how you think you have a say in the matter, Mr. Walker. Would you like to discuss the matter further in your office or in your lovely home?” She asked. I rubbed my face tiredly. I have known this woman for eight hours, and she already drains the shīt out of me.
“Neither.” I replied, ending the call. I parked my BMW in the garage and headed inside. I went straight to the shower. I needed to relax, that was for sure. I let the hot steam of the shower relax all my muscles. Once I felt relaxed, I turned off the faucet, grabbing a towel before I dried myself. I walked to my room, holding a pair of basketball shorts. Just as I finished getting dressed, the doorbell rang. I groaned, walking downstairs to the door.
I opened the door, coming face to face with her. Gosh, this woman was persistent.
“Why are you here, Esmé?” I asked her as she pushed herself into my house.
“I told you, you didn’t have a say in the matter. Now, where would you like to sit?” She asked, crossing her arms. She was now wearing a white T-shirt with the front tucked in her ripped jeans, hugging all her curves. She had white chucks on, and her brunette hair piled up on top of her hair. She wore no makeup.
“Look who’s gawking now.” She said, taking me out of my trance.
“Who is?” I replied, trying to sound confident, but failed miserably when she got close to me before whispering. “Your dīck is saluting me, Walker.” I looked down at my cöck and a lovely tent was visible—Fūcking traitor.
“I’m just cold.” I replied to her, walking past her and into my living room.
“What do you want from me?” I asked her as I sat on the couch. She walked to the other side of the sofa, sitting down.
“Simple, I need you to hack into the cameras to what used to be my old home. I’m sure you googled me, so there’s no need to beat around the bush. I will give you one chance to ask me whatever is going through your head.” She said, crossing her legs.
“One, why do you want to hack into the camera system? Two, what makes you think I want to know anything personal about you? This is just business.” I replied to her. As the words left my lips, I felt a slight ping in my chest. She smiled, standing up from the couch.
“Since this is just business, you don’t need answers then. I’ll have Thomas contact you about the contract. Good night, Mr. Walker.” She said as she turned around, leaving my house. I was in shock. Usually, women tend to flip out when they don’t get what they want, but not this one. She’s a tough cookie. I sighed as I rubbed my face tiredly again. I heard the buzzing of my phone from the kitchen counter. I grabbed it, looking at an incoming text from Xaira, making me groan.
I met Xaira about six months ago at the opening of a club of a capo. It’s strictly sēx, but she began to get all clingy, and I don’t do clingy.
Xaira: I miss you. When can we meet up?
I rolled my eyes, went to her contact, and blocked her asš.
I need to find another friend. I do have needs that require attention.
- Writer
