Ambition: A Dark Billionaire Romance Anthology

M
y fingers were beating
a staccato rhythm on my desktop as I waited for the call I’d been expecting all afternoon. I’d expected the news around one or two, and it was now nearly four o'clock. Three times in the past hour I had to be reminded of phone calls or other things on my schedule by my secretary. "Miss Williams, your appointment is here."

"Eh? Appointment?" I said, looking up. Vanessa, who I had just hired two months prior when I was appointed head of MJT Consolidated Holdings, kept her best professional demeanor. I appreciated it. "Who with?"

I had hired Vanessa Montenegro because, at thirty four, she already had fifteen years of experience as an executive assistant. She'd worked with all sorts of companies, from health care to manufacturing, and in each instance she'd gotten rave reviews from her former employers. In fact, three of them had told me they would hire her back in an instant with a hefty pay raise if she'd take the job. When I asked her why she kept changing jobs instead of taking the pay raises, she impressed me, not only for her insight, but for her bluntly put honesty.

"I'm an INTJ Architect personality type, which normally isn't good for the type of job I do. According to the online profiles I should be working as a freelance project type person like in software engineering, or maybe as a lawyer. But for me, I see this sort of work as my calling. I come into a company, and while I don't like the spotlight, I really focus on doing what I can to help the company set up the structures it needs in order to be successful. Once that framework is in place, I tend to get a bit itchy footed and move on. No offense Miss Williams, but I doubt I'll be around for more than four or five years. I'd say less, but you're so new at this, you'll be providing me with plenty of challenges and ways to help out for a lot longer than some of my other jobs."

Now, two months later, I understood what she meant. Vanessa was a real help around the office, the sort of person who helped a twenty five year old like me get a handle on a company that, on the books at least, was worth well over a hundred million dollars, on a staff of (again, on paper) two people, three if you counted the cleaning guy I hired to come in three times a week. I never have understood the idea of making your secretary clean up after you, and while I kept my office pretty neat, I wasn't going to make someone like Vanessa do dusting.

Of course, all of that was on the books. Off the books, well, MJT was a lot more. Funded by well-scrubbed blood money, MJT was in reality three people, and had access to nearly three hundred million dollars if it wanted to. I wasn't even the head of it, that honor being taken by Matt Bylur, nee Marcus Smiley, nee Mark Snow (The M in MJT). Once the best hitman in the city, and perhaps in the country, Mark has killed a lot of people. Just how many I don't really know, but I could go the rest of my life without knowing the actual number. It's a weight I could live without on my soul.

I've actually seen Mark in action once, when he saved me from a group of gangsters in a nightclub after they'd kidnapped me. He dropped four men so fast that I barely had time to scream before the last man hit the ground. I'm getting ahead of myself though. Calm, confident, wickedly smart, handsome, in a lot of ways he is a dream guy for any woman. I did make a pass at him once, which he promptly rebuffed kindly, but with finality.

I don't think of Mark in that way any longer though because of the second person in MJT (the J). Joanna Bylur, nee Sophie Warbird, nee Sophie White, was my best friend all through college, and the woman that had become the sister I never had. Beautiful inside and out, being with Mark had really brought her out of her insecure shell and let her understand just how fucking awesome she is. She accepted me for who I am, a weird but out-going firebird. Then, as if that wasn't impressive enough, she turned the baddest hitman in the city into a vigilante crusader. Oh, and she has about a thousand other little skills that she has which makes her the perfect woman.

Which is kind of how MJT (I'm the T, duh) was born. The rest is history, including how Mark and Sophie took down the two largest criminal networks in town. After doing so, Mark needed to disappear. On the other hand, in order to keep our city from falling into chaos, his money and the influence he wanted to use, couldn't. Taking on the identity of Matt Bylur, he and Sophie (now Joanna) got married in Las Vegas and moved back into town as my housekeeper and groundskeeper. I was jealous that they didn't have me at their wedding, but I understood, and they had videotaped it for me. So I had my boss, best friend, and whatever you wanted to call them as my house staff. At least, that was their so-called day job. I still have to shake my head about it, and I lived through it all.

This all brings me back to Vanessa, knocking on the door frame of my office with a professionally exasperated look in her eye while I stared at her, totally lost. You see, Sophie had gotten pregnant right before becoming Joanna, and I was nervously awaiting news on her most recent prenatal exam. I couldn't even go with her, as much as I wanted. I mean, seriously, what CEO goes to the doctor with their maid? On reflection, don't answer that, we might know what kind, usually older males with a maid who is either scared out of her mind or already counting the money from child support payments.

"Who with?" I asked, blinking and drawing a total blank at Vanessa's comment. I knew I was gathering wool, I wanted to hear from Sophie. Still, Vanessa didn't know about
Matt
and
Joanna,
other than that they were my domestic help, and I had to appear professional.

"The Padre," Vanessa replied. While she was never one to be as outwardly emotional as I am, she showed her feelings in other ways, usually though the use of nicknames. The Right Bishop Gerald Traylor was one of the people she detested most, and in my opinion, with good reason. The leader of one of the most influential churches in the city, Bishop Traylor's Holy Assembly of the Ever Loving God could brag about holding three services a Sunday, each of them packing in over a thousand people. With services broadcast on a locally owned channel, he swung a lot of weight, especially among the Evangelical population of the city. His fiery preaching, blend of gospel, Christian funk music, and a bit of other popular music styles made a good show, if that was the particular brand of Christianity that spoke to you. Considering who I am, and the opposition I had to a lot of his preaching, I couldn't say I was a fan of his.

I would’ve overlooked all of my issues with Traylor and his preaching if he'd been even halfway as honest as the figure he portrayed on screen and in public. The problem was, he was as corrupt as a preacher could be. For years, carefully hidden of course, he’d taken money from the members of the Confederation, one of the two criminal empires that Mark had smashed just months prior. A man who preached humility and the Bible, Traylor lived in a penthouse that was just over four thousand square feet in a high-rise that commanded top dollar per square foot. Hell, the HOA fees alone were nearly twenty thousand dollars a year. On top of that, Traylor owned abut a half dozen other properties around the city, two of which he kept his mistresses in while his wife played her role in public. Knowing what I did about his private life would lead anyone doubting in the existence of God to wonder how the man didn't burst into flames every time he touched the Bible.

And of course, I detested the man for his ministry as well. Hell fire and brimstone, he'd more than once called for people like me to burn in hell because of my sexual appetite. It was kind of the personal cherry on top for making what I was about to do just a little more fun than my average work, which usually consisted of doing a lot of business investing. Turn on the TV show
Shark Tank
, and you get the idea, minus the reality show dramatics.

"Miss Williams," Traylor said in his broad, well practiced tones as he entered the office. I had to admit, the man could speak well. He toned down his inflection in private, but still had the sonorous, rumbling sounds that led gravitas to his voice. It wasn't quite at the level of James Earl Jones, but he could certainly make reading your grocery list interesting. "Thank you for meeting with me so quickly after my church's request."

"When one of the leading members of the community makes a request, I do my best to accommodate them as quickly as possible," I said, standing up from my desk and coming around to shake his hand. I didn't want to, in fact I had to resist the urge to turn around and immediately squirt about three dollops of anti-bacterial gel onto my hand, but I still felt dirty just with that light amount of contact.

I was wearing my black suit that day, which went great with my fire red hair. I had taken a page from Sophie's playbook as Sophie Warbird and had dialed up the volume on my natural auburn hair to an almost fire engine red, which gained a lot of attention. Actually, the suit was hers too, we're close enough in height that I just needed to have it tailored a bit. Sophie's a natural D cup, while I’m a C. To offset it though, I do have a smaller waist, so the illusion created by the tight jacket and blouse underneath was similar. Namely, that the so-called man of God's eyes fluttered between my hair and my boobs in almost a metronomic fashion. I think if I'd turned around and let him look at my ass, he'd have blown a load in his custom tailored suit.

"Please, have a seat," I said, leading him over to the coffee table that was tucked next to the window on the east side of the room. With the MJT offices only having three rooms, my office doubled as our conference room, and was rather roomy at that. I had my desk, an eight person conference table, and the coffee area which I used for casual meetings. "I have to say, I was surprised at how quickly your request came in. Tell me, have the recent troubles been that significant for your community?"

"Yes Miss Williams, they have," Traylor said, taking the seat opposite me. I wanted him separated by the table. While I was hoping that my words alone would neuter the man, I was taking no chances. People do stupid things when pushed, after all. "You should see the streets, Miss Williams. Gunfire on a nightly basis, shops closing left and right. Over a hundred of my parishioners have come to me over the past month stating that they have lost their jobs, asking for the church's help. We've helped as many as we can, but the church's coffers are tapped out. Now, I know that your particular organization is not in the charity business, but I do feel that we can be beneficial to each other.”

"Oh, and how is that?" I said, leaning forward and letting him see just a bit of my cleavage. I may not be as busty as Sophie, but with a Wonderbra and a button down v-neck silk blouse, it doesn't matter. I wanted to keep the Bishop off guard for when I dropped the bomb on him.

"Your…um… your company can use good publicity," Traylor replied, licking his lips unconsciously before pulling his eyes back up to my face. "While you have done lots of good for the city, the fact is that there are some who are resistant to what you’re trying to do. A good charitable donation to Holy Assembly would go a long way towards easing concerns in the minds of some people."

"I see," I said, sitting back and pretending to consider his idea. He was right, in a certain sense. After investing in over four dozen companies in the city, MJT was becoming a major player in the business and political currents of the city. We were ruffling feathers, some of which were starting to try and push back. "It would be quite helpful. And of course, having the positive word of a man as powerful as yourself wouldn't hurt either."

“I’m not the powerful one, I only have what the Lord has given to me to use to further his kingdom," Traylor said, spreading his hands out beatifically, as if he were laying claim to the whole world around him. For all I knew, he was, although not through his holiness, that was for damn sure. "But yes, I can do a lot to ease the concerns of the community."

"And how much are we talking here?" I asked, pretending to read the document that his request had come in. In fact, after discussing the original proposal with Mark and Sophie, I hadn't opened the folder in days, and honestly didn't care if the folder had contained cut-outs from the most recent issue of
Captain America
. "You left that part blank, I noticed. My secretary wasn't happy about that."

"That depends totally on you," Traylor replied. "Our charity outreach program can cost us upwards of a million dollars a year, although I wouldn’t expect your company to provide anywhere near that. On the other hand, the more you give, the more good we can do."

"I see." I stood up from the coffee table and walked back over to my desk, wishing that I had chosen a hard floor rather than rugs for the office. Let's face it, the sound of a woman's heels clicking along tile while she sashays around in a tight skirt can send blood flow to all the right places. I could feel Traylor's eyes glued on my hips and legs as I walked, and I pondered just how easy it was to use my sexuality to totally throw the man off. Funny, really. I had a few classmates in college, self-professed militant feminists, who said that my using my sexiness to get what I want was just selling out to the male dominated system in place. To me, I thought it was weird how I was supposedly powerless, but could reduce these supposedly powerful men to mindless, begging wretches with just a swish of my ass and a glimpse of my boobs.

Getting a pen from the holder on my desk, I turned around and perched on the edge, my face dawning as if I'd come to a sudden realization. "Bishop, I've got it! I know a way for us to both get what we want!"

"What's that, Miss Williams?" he said, taking me in at my full height. I wondered how much of his mind was on what I was saying, and how much was undressing me mentally. "I'm all ears."

"Well Bishop, if you're looking for funding for charity, I have a great idea. What about a new community center, with education and job training programs, a food bank, after school activities, even child care for working single mothers? I mean, a place that could be a real hand up and not a hand out."