Page 30 of Creed

Or be late

Promise

Oh, and you don't need to worry about any cum stains either

Lexa’s like a Champion Hoover. The suction she can get…

Fuck off

I’m leaving this conversation

“Asshole,” I mutter, slipping my phone into my suit jacket pocket.

I shut down my computer, walk out of my office, and close the dark walnut door. Jo, my executive assistant, who makes my work life smooth, smiles at me, and the lines around her eyes and mouth deepen into ready laugh lines.

“It’s time to head out, Jo.”

“Night, boss.”

“I meant for you to head out as well.”

“But I still have an hour on the clock.” She shakes her head. “And I still have things to do.”

“There are always things to do.”

I’m a hard worker and demand that of my staff; however, Jo had gone above and beyond, like always, when we were securing our latest deal. I ensured her paycheck reflected the extra hours she hadn’t logged. “Head home to that new grandbaby of yours.”

Her cheeks pinkened with the reminder of her pride and joy.

Jo’s daughter, Susan, fled an abusive relationship and is staying with her until she gets on her feet. I’m working on convincing Jo to let me help; however, she’s a proud woman and won’t accept anything that looks or feels like charity.

She nods and says, “Thank you, boss.”

My phone rings as I say goodnight, and I glance at it, half expecting it to be Vito. It’s an unknown caller, but I recognize the number from the last time he called, and Jo had patched him through: Manuel Morales. Even though I told him to lose my number, I’m curious and in a mood to taunt him, so I answer instead of blocking the call.

“Creed, my man, so glad I reached you.”

I frown as I enter the elevator, trying to understand why he's acting like we’re pals. “What the hell do you want, Manny?”

He laughs. “You like that nickname for me. It’s cool that we have that kind of relationship.”

“Are you drunk?”

He laughs harder.

“Okay, high then.”

It’s like a switch flips, and he hisses, “You’re a snotty little shit, aren’t you?”

As the elevator descends, I look at myself in the mirror, at how my tall, chiseled form fills out my suit and smirk. “Little isn’t exactly the adjective people use to describe me.”

His breathing is heavy, but he says, calmer, “Look, we’re getting off on the wrong foot.”

“I honestly don’t give a fuck.”

“Creed, wait.” He sucks in deeply, and I imagine him smoking those cigarettes he loves. “I just wanted to reach out and offer—”

“No,” I flatly cut him off.

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