A Taste For Trouble

His name was Seth Todd Black. And he was a hellion.

Okay, okay, he wasn't really a hellion. But people tended to refer to him as such; he merely acknowledged it being said.

Miscreant, Asshole, Devil Boy were just a few of the disparaging names he'd been dubbed. For the life of him, though, he couldn't understand why. He wasn't a bad person. Not to himself, at least.

He was an extremely wealthy man who provided jobs and opportunities for a decent living for thousands of people around the globe. He governed incalculable charities, fed the poor, clothed the unclothed, and helped the underprivileged.

For heaven's sake, he rebuilt an entire parish after that bitch of a hurricane twirled her destructive little skirt tail across several states and uprooted a vast amount of lives and homes.

Talk about 'home-wrecker'. So, you see? He wasn't too bad.

Actually, he considered himself as normal as any other human being. There were just two small defects of his-or unredeemable habits, one could say, that made truly normal people deem him rotten: One, he fucking swore a lot. Two, he was a proud enabler of adultery and consciously steered clear of any female sector whose ages were below his on the calendar.

Did it make him a hellion because he enjoyed spraying F-bombs on everyone like a swear-word confetti gun? Or because he enjoyed dating screwing around with women who were five to ten years his senior, married, engaged, or otherwise entangled?

No? He didn't think so either.

It's not like he was strapping goddamn bombs to his chest, robbing banks, blowing up airplanes, hitting on pregnant women, peeping through little boys' windows with his dick in his hand, or sending naked pictures of himself to underage vaginas...Guess the world saw him in a different light than he did.

To himself, he was just Seth Todd Black: a good guy. A really good guy. You'll see. Then, perhaps, you'll agree.

At present, he was trapped within the confinements of his office with his gayer of the gayest male assistant, Will, browsing through potential design plans for one of his new tower loft constructions. And he was scowling with sheer displeasure.

The designs were drafted by one of his best designers; yet, they came across as trite and uninspiring.

With a sharp shake of his head, Seth leaned back in his comfortable leather chair, "I'm done."

Will glanced at him from across his large oak desk, brows raised. "You're cutting her? Monica Regens is your supposedly 'best' designer. You've been using her on all the top projects for years."

"Exactly. And now she's grown comfortable, which has rendered her predictable. She keeps recreating the same thing every time. I need newness. Innovation. Daring designs. Monica's just not delivering anymore."

Will nodded in agreement. An exceptional assistant for the last five years, he was about five feet four inches short, with a wiry frame and a gay attitude. He kept his hair trimmed in a spiky blonde Mohawk, had a wide gauge piercing on one ear and a cage piercing on the other.

Seth didn't force him to wear a three-piece suit-he himself detested suits-he permitted Will to wear whatever he wanted, so Will was always dressed in his customary steel-toed boots, tight jeans with studded belts, and stretchy rocker T-shirts.

Many times, he was asked why he hired a freak for an assistant. A careless shrug would always be his reply. Why not hire a freak for an assistant?

See, Seth Black was unconventional in every sense of the word, so he was perpetually doing the opposite of whatever was expected. Screw world order.

He was rich, he was powerful, he was the boss, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Some called it rebellion, but he called it shitting-on-dumb-ass-rules. Will wasn't a freak, anyway.He was just gay.

"That's true.However, you can't drop Monica at this moment. The Riverview penthouses, or shells, are already two months behind your planned schedule, and they need to be completed and crossed off the list. You've got a lot of food crowding your already laden table, so you need to clear some of these small dishes before the big ones start falling off and smashing into pieces."

"Taking a chance on a different designer-who you'd be putting a helluva strain and pressure on, by the way-to get these penthouses ready on time, might not be the smartest idea right now. You can always dump Monica after this project."

That was the answer he never offered to people who inquired about his freak of an assistant. Will wasn't a mere assistant. Will kept things leveled, pointing out the obvious to him when he was being blind and irrational.

Being the boss didn't deter Will from telling him point blank when he thought he was sticking his head too far up his ass. Will knew his shit better than those sniffy punks in sharp charcoal suits. So, there you have it, he hired a weird, gay assistant because he kicked ass...or licked it...or stocked it...or all the above.

"You're right, Will. But as you know, these apartments are unfairly overpriced. They're all sold out because pompous buyers are expecting something above what's already out there. This," Seth said, turning around his laptop to face Will, "is average. The same shit that's been in Monica's last three projects, with just a slight difference.

"You know what kind of customers I have. Customers who never question price because they know The Royals' Realty always delivers. If each new building doesn't transcend in creativity, notices will be made that I'm a fucking dickwad with my prices. Which I am, of course. But, who gives a shit about the price tag as long as they're happy with the product? Monica's not gonna work."

Will glanced at the computer screen and shrugged. "So what're you going to do, then?Want me to send out notification emails to the buyers, informing them completion dates are being pushed back a few months? It's construction. I'm pretty sure they'll understand that shit happens sometimes."

"Shit happens. But not with me. I've got a rep to maintain." Seth rubbed his forehead in thought. "Who do I have that can deliver this project on time with a commendable design?"

Will raised a censorious brow, "All your designers are not just good, but great at what they do, or else they wouldn't be working for you. You're the one who chose to put Monica above everyone else because she brought in praises for the Leo"s penthouses she designed a few years back. That doesn't mean she's better than anyone else. It's just the hype you gave her."

Seth shot him a disgusted look. "Are you my goddamn assistant or my consultant? You've got too much to say, dude."

Will smirked. "And you listen. Because you know whenever I open my mouth, it's not hog shit spraying out."

Seth waved him off. "So? Who do we have?"

"The design department of The Royals' Realty has 120 interior designers. So the answer to that is 'you have a lot'. The real question is 'who's not working on a project at the moment?'."

Seth glared across his desk with a look that told his assistant if he didn't cut the excessive chatting, he was going to knock his ass out. Cold.

Will burst out laughing and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Lemme check."

He flipped open his MacBook and tapped a few keys, while Seth opened a drawer on his desk and retrieved his stress ball. He wanted out of this damn office.

"Okay, so everyone's contracted, but a handful will be available soon. Chloe Reynolds will be free from the Berlin project in four weeks. Cara Ann will be free from an addition at Lopez project in two weeks, and Alice Roberts will be free from the Ramz nightclub project in two days."

"Whoever's closest to being available, Will. Christ."

"That would be Alice Roberts, but she specializes in commercial venues, nightclubs, etcetera. Would be better to wait on Cara Ann."

"No one without versatility would be hired in my company, Will. Unless you're telling me I need to fire the manager of the design department for hiring inept workers?" he asked sternly.

"She must've worked on some residential projects before. Pull up her profile. Check."

Will tapped around on his MacBook again then shrugged and slid it across the desk to him.

"This is her work on Sky Land from two years ago. That's the last house project she did."

Seth leaned forward and clicked through the designs. There wasn't anything awe-inspiring. But then, that was two years ago. If he remembered clearly, people were more than happy with the Sky Land town homes.

"Where's the flaw?"

Will rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Mr. Black, all your designers are worthy. It's you who favored Monica above everyone."

"This Alice person it is, then. She'll just need a little pressure and brow-beating to understand the importance of being assigned to projects like Riverview."

Seth didn't think putting pressure on any interior designer of his was even necessary. Once someone was called to his office to be directly hired by him, common sense should tell them that their best was required.

Being contracted for a high-end RRR project meant one expectation: success. His penthouses were bought by people with status. And that was all his designers needed to understand when handed their marching orders.

"Well, she's been turning down contracts for residential work. Like I said, she's only doing commercial venues."

"She works for me. If I want her to design my damn apartments, she's going to design them or get sacked."

"Technically, you're her boss's boss's boss."

"Which spells: BOSS."

"She-"

"Too much fucking lip, Will! Go. Now. Find out if she's in today, and have Jose send her up."

Will got up and brought his hand to his forehead in a salute gesture. "Yes sir."

He swaggered toward the door with his anti-male gait and said, "I bet you have no idea what Alice Roberts even looks like," then hurried out the door before he could respond.

Aside from his main team, Seth didn't see the need to give a squat about knowing his workers. He was rarely ever in one place for too long, anyway. He came in to the office only on Mondays and Wednesdays for meetings and major issues, because frankly, he hated being in an office.

Everything else was left for his trusted team to sort out. Papers and numbers bored him. Seth was a physical man. He preferred to see what words and numbers translated into.

Therefore, the bulk of his time was spent on his work sites. Traveling, viewing, purchasing, making deals in unconventional, staying-out-of-offices and sleep-inducing-meetings kinds of ways. That's what made him him. He did things his own way, on his own terms.

Society could create whatever rules it wanted. Just don't expect Seth Black to follow them. Sitting in an office sifting through emails and sending proxies to do the physical work didn't pan out for him Offices made him feel caged. So he stayed out of them. Just as he did with relationships with the opposite sex.

Ten minutes later, Will returned to his office with a petite little thing in tow. "Miss Alice Roberts as you requested, sir," he announced with mock formality, which was rather inharmonious with his Mohawk-hair and tight-jeans.

"You can do this, Alice Roberts," he whispered to the tiny figure beside him.

"Do what?" she asked.

But Will turned and left without a word.

Confusion etched on her face, she looked to Seth. "A pleasant good afternoon, Mr. Black. It's quite an, um, honor to be in your presence. May I ask what this is about? Did I do something wrong? Was there a complaint about me or something?"

Seth didn't answer right away, because he was waiting on his brain to explain to him why the fuck he was all but paralyzed in his seat. Why he was staring without so much as blinking at this ethereal girl standing in his office.

This girl, who was like a falling feather from an angel's wing. She seemed too delicate and unreal to be a complete angel. No, she was a pluck of a feather from an angel's wing-an imperfect angel, that is. A sacrosanct white feather floating on the wind.

As aforementioned, Seth was a man who didn't care for younger women. Tried his damnedest to avoid them and their hearts and chocolates and love poems bullshit at all costs. If a woman was any younger than his own age, bedding them was out of the question. Neither did he sleep with single, available women – any age.

The 'I want more' talk, he wasn't up for it.Of course, he got hard for younger women; he was a man, after all.

But he'd never before seen a young woman who struck him speechless. Not only was this woman young, she was petite and looked delicate in every possible way a woman could be.

Seth estimated her height without heels to be around five feet one or so. Though she was slender, her breasts were full, and her hips curved out tauntingly, leaving her waist looking sinfully slim. He figured he could easily span her with one arm and still leave room.

Her light blonde hair was cut low on her head, but with thick sharp bangs sweeping across her forehead. With her hair that low, he was able to appreciate her long, slim neck-a neck he was imagining himself trailing his tongue all over...

Her lips were a deep cherry-red, and he couldn't tell if she was wearing that glossy crap women put on their lips, or if they were natural. An exotic blue, her eyes seemed unreal-a strong meet between cerulean and sapphire blue, so bright, they were her most prominent feature.

For a normal workday, Seth thought she was overdressed, as her small frame was clothed in a short red skirt, a gray silk blouse, and a pair of skin-tight black boots meeting the hem of her skirt. She was adorned with large, gold hoop earrings and some showy gold crap on her wrists.

Fake accessories, for sure. She couldn't afford such large pieces of gold. He deduced she was one of those girls who liked to play dress-up.

Unable to help it, his eyes drifted to her fingers to check if she wore her nails long or clipped, and his unruly dick hardened when he saw they were fairly long and painted blood-red.

'Shit, who the heck was this girl?'

"Mr. Black?" she called, in a soft, whispery voice, like lace sliding against silk.

Just like her eyes, her voice was unusual, sensual, like nothing he'd heard before. Apart from her attire, she looked young, innocent, fragile. Her age couldn't even be guessed; she could easily pass for an eighteen-year-old.

"How long have you been working for me?" he asked in an unintentionally gruff voice.

Her perfectly plucked brows knitted in a frown, which told him she was wondering what kind of question was that. Probably thinking he should know these things, but he wasn't God. Kudos to any businessman out there who knew all their workers' resumes by heart.

"Five years. Right out of college, I interned in DD for a year until Gilles Chad offered me a position."

"How old are you?"

She gave him a leery look. He knew the age question was a forbidden question in the workplace, let alone for most women, but he needed to know.

"Twenty-five," she answered, quickly adding, "I turn twenty-six in three months."

"Cancer or Leo?" he whispered.

Why the hell did he just ask that? And why did it come out as a whisper?! The fuck?

The angel's feather took a small step backwards, watching him warily as if she expected him to pounce on her at any minute.

"Leo. Um, I'm just going to be honest with you: I'm hella nervous right now. Getting called to your office is like getting called to the Principal's office in high school. It's never good news."

Seth almost smiled. She was nervous. And she was cute. A downright sexy combination that had his snake head rearing up in its cage.

"Relax, Miss Roberts. You're not endangered. You were summoned here to be informed of your new contract. That is, the Riverview project."

Taking another step backwards, her eyes widened.Damn those eyes.

"What? No!" Instantly, her hand flew to her mouth at her outburst, and then she said in more polite manner, "I mean, I can't."

Arching a brow at her audacity, he figured it was time to snap out of his school-boy lusting. "May I ask what sane person tries to turn down a contract for a high-end project coming directly from me?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm currently contracted on a nightclub, I-I don't specialize in residential projects. Let alone tower lofts and penthouses."

Staring back at her, Seth realized she was genuinely frightened by the idea of working on a project this big. Which was both unfathomable and unacceptable. A designer is a designer. Whether it's a club, house, store, office...designers design.

"Miss Roberts, if we have given you a position here at The Royals' Realty after your internship, then it's because you fit the criteria of everything we look for in our designers. We don't hire inept idiots or cowards. Also, if I have called you to my office to speak to you in person-which is a rarefied action-then it's because I've seen your work and believe that you can suit my needs. Are you a coward, Miss Roberts? Are you inept?"

"No, but I-"

"Your current contract is up in two days. On Friday, you will be taken to Riverview's work site so you can view what you will be working with. If you prefer a virtual tour of the building emailed to you instead, no problem. Seven days is all I'm giving you to create your designs. I need three different options to choose from. Please bear in mind the type of project that Riverview is. The best requires nothing but the best."

She took a step forward this time, her hands clasped under her chin. "Please, Mr. Black, I ca-"

"Do you remember when I said you weren't endangered, Miss Roberts? It was only but a minute ago."

"Yes," she said with caution.

"Well, I lied. If you turn this down, then you've automatically relinquished your position here at The Royals' Realty. You also will not receive any referrals from this company when you try to seek another employment."

She shifted her gaze and fixated it on his topaz birthstone that had a real scorpion embedded inside it, sitting proudly on his desk, used as a paperweight. Worrying her lower lip, she watched the stone for a long while, then sighed in defeat.

"Okay. But, can I at least have two weeks to-"

"Seven days, Miss Roberts," he clipped, leaving no room for debate. "You're dismissed."

Nodding, she turned and slipped through the door.

Seth watched the door long after she went through it, every feature of the peculiar girl who was just standing in his office burned into his mind: from her exotic blue eyes to her plump red lips to her whispery voice...

An ache throbbed below, telling him it needed some attention, or it would blow. Leaning back in his chair, he adjusted his crotch to ease the ache.

Who was that girl? She was young. Twenty-five. So why was he so goddamn affected?

The last time this shit happened with a younger woman, it was with his brother's fiancée. Even then, it wasn't this bad. No woman had ever rendered him speechless or temporarily paralyzed before, younger or older. None.

So much so that he'd just sat there and shamelessly raped her with his eyes. Talk about unprecedented.

Seth glanced down at the bulge in his pants and sighed. He needed to sort this shit out. A press of a button on the receiver connected him to Will.

"How may I help you now, sir?"

He could hear sarcasm in the jackass's voice, but he hadn't the time to deal with Will's BS right now.

"Is Anna in?"

"Out for lunch."

"Lucy Taylor?"

"Out for lunch, too."

"Who isn't out for lunch?"

"Nora James and Mina Cole are still in." Will fake coughed while he garbled, "inappropriate."

Seth ignored it. Yes, he was that kind of man. He shit where he ate and had absolutely no qualms about it.

"Grab Nora for me."

"Mind if I ask how things went with Alice Roberts?" He could almost sense the sonuvabitch smirking on the end.

"Piss off, asshole-wait, you're acquainted with her?"

"Who isn't? She's like the queen of fashion. We consult her for fashion tips all the time."

"Yet you still dress like a queer douchebag?"

"I am queer, and I'm most certainly a douchebag. So that means I'm getting it right."

"Just send Nora in and shut the hell up, cock breath."

A few balls-aching minutes later, Nora walked through his office door. Brunette, tall, shapeless figure, she wasn't anywhere near the angel's feather who had left him with this hard-on, but any mouth would do at the moment.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Black?"

Seth swiveled his chair away from his desk and shot her a side-long glance. "Yeah. How's Mr. James recovering?"

"He's alright. Still beside himself that he's been able to overcome his surgery. So kind of you to ask," she smiled sweetly.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't really give a shit.

"And your son?" he asked, leaning forward to shrug out of his jacket.

"Oh, just amazing. He's on the honor roll!"

Out of things to ask, Seth jumped straight to her purpose as he started to undo his belt buckle.

"I've got something I need you to take care of for me."

Nora's eyes lowered as she watched him undo his fly and freed his length, rock-hard and throbbing. Her pink tongue darted over her lips, and without another word, she sashayed across his office, around his desk, and sank down to her knees.

Head tossed back, Seth breathed a satisfying sigh when Nora's wet lips wrapped around him