Stuck-Up Suit(34)

Dear Ida,

This is the former Celibate in Manhattan. You might also remember me as Stuck-Up Suit. I thought it would be polite to provide you with an update to my situation, seeing as though you’ve been so helpful thus far. The good news: I’m happy to say that I’m no longer celibate. The bad news: Now that I’ve had her, I want to be inside of her every second of the day. I can’t stop thinking of f*cking her in every which way. I’m worried that she may eventually tire of my insatiable appetite. So, my question to you is: Is there such a thing as too much sex?

–Fucked in Manhattan



Dear Fucked in Manhattan:

Congratulations on ending your celibacy. I guess the answer to your question would depend on how good you are in bed. Assuming that your performance is favorable (which I highly suspect it is), I don’t think you will have a problem. You may also be veering on the side of presumptuous in assuming that your lady friend would find an overabundance of sex unfavorable. Don’t underestimate a woman’s own voracious libido.



That evening, Graham was supposed to call to let me know what time his driver would be picking me up to take me to the condo. It was unlike him to be running so late without calling me. My paranoid side got the best of me as I picked up the phone and dialed him.

He answered. “Soraya…” The tone of his voice sounded sullen.

What the f*ck?

“I’ve been waiting for your call. Is everything alright?”

He let out a deep breath into the phone. “No. I’m afraid it’s not.”

My heart started to palpitate. “What’s going on?”

“I just got some news a little while ago.”

“News?”

“It’s Liam.”

“Your ex-friend? Genevieve’s husband. What about him?”

There was a long moment of silence. “He’s dead.”





CHAPTER 13


SORAYA



THE ANXIOUS FEELING I HAD after speaking to Graham last night had carried over into my sleep. I tossed and turned all night, unable to settle. By morning, I was downright antsy. Graham had said he was going into the office to work on some business last night—he had planned to take over Liam’s company through smart business maneuvers but had no intention of taking advantage of the man’s death to get what he wanted. Although that wouldn’t stop others. The vultures, he said, would be scavenging first thing this morning when news broke. Graham was going to somehow freeze out others from taking advantage and postpone his own planned takeover.

I was disappointed he wasn’t on our usual train, although I hadn’t really expected him to be.

Soraya: How are you this morning?

Graham: Tired. I’m still at the office.

Soraya: You mean you stayed there all night?

Graham: I did.

Soraya: I’m sorry. This must be difficult for you. Is there something I can do?

Graham: Just hang in there for me, please. I’m going to be swamped for a few days.

If I was unclear on just how affected Graham was by the news, his response solidified he was not himself. He hadn’t suggested I should crawl under his desk or spread my legs when I asked him if there was anything I could do.

Soraya: Of course.

Arriving at my stop, I exited the train and began my usual morning routine of stopping at Anil’s coffee truck. After I placed my order, a thought hit me.

“Can you make that two coffees and also two buttered bagels and two orange juices?” It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it would make me feel better to do something for him. The man had followed me and sent Indian food because he thought I liked it; a bagel and coffee was the least I could do.

Heading back to the station, I called Ida and left a message I would be late and then hopped on the A train. Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Morgan Financial Holdings. Stepping out of the elevator on the twentieth floor, the gold lettering above the glass doors suddenly made me nervous. I had started to become accustomed to the butterflies that I got around Graham, but being on his turf—in the arena where I knew he ruled with an iron fist—had me feeling intimidated. And I hated that.

I squared my shoulders and walked to the receptionist. It was the same young redhead from the day I brought back his phone.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like to see Graham.”

She looked me up and down. “Graham? You mean Mr. Morgan?”

“Yes. Graham J. Morgan.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Not this shit again.

“No. But he’ll want to see me. If you can just let him know Soraya is here.”

“Mr. Morgan doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

“Look. I know you have a job. And judging from our interactions, you’re probably even good at it. You seem to do a great job of blowing people off. But, trust me on this one, you won’t get in trouble for interrupting him to tell him I’m here.”

“I’m sorry…he was very specific…”

Oh for God’s sake. “I’m f*cking him, okay? Just tell Graham I’m here, or I’m going to walk past you anyway.”

The woman blinked twice. “Excuse me?”

I leaned in. “Fucking him. You know, you insert…”