Buried Desires (Brad’s Story)

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Chapter Two

Brad

"A Samantha Mason is holding on line one for you, Sir," Barbara, my secretary announced while standing beside my office door.

I looked away from my computer and automatically rolled my eyes. Oh, fuck my life. I have been trying everything possible to avoid that crazy-ass bitch for the past several weeks.

I stupidly took her ass out on one fucking date, and she hasn't stopped hounding me ever since. The crazy-ass bitch has stooped to a full-blown stalker now.

She's even gone as far as showing up at restaurants that I frequent. Even waiting for me outside my residence at all hours of the day, especially when I get off work in the evenings.

"Goddamn it, Barb. How many times have I told you woman, whenever she calls, tell her I'm not in?" I reminded and groaned as I rubbed a hand over my face in annoyance.

I heard her softly giggle, "Yes, of course, Sir. My apologies, I guess it just slipped my mind."

I opened my fingers, peering at her, watching as she covered a hand over her mouth to help muffle her snickering.

After she left, I pulled my hands away from my face and rested my back against my chair, sighing heavily.

I swear if Barb wasn't the best damn receptionist I've ever had and I didn't love the old witch to death, I'd already fired her old smart ass, just for poking fun of me.

I couldn't do that to her, she's been with me practically since my father brought me on board. Plus, she's the only one who knew how to make my coffee just the way I like it.

Flicking my wrist, I read the time on my watch and saw that it was already past eight.

Fuck. It's been yet another long, exhausting day.

I shut down the computer and grabbed my phone and keys and quickly slid my suit jacket on.

Christ, I could feel how drained I was. I couldn't wait to get home so I could soak and enjoy a much-needed shower.

Closing my office door behind me, I walked past Barb, ignoring her snickering. Keeping all my attention focused on the elevator doors, I smirked.

"Barb," I warned, "woman, don't tempt me. I'll do it."

"I'm sorry Sir," she giggled softly. "You must forgive me, but I don't really believe you could. I know that Hampton is incapable of fixing your coffee as well as I can."

Turning around, I saw her lips slowly lifting to a cocky smirk.

Goddamn it. She's right and she fucking knows it.

"So," I said, giving her a small smile. "When are you leaving your husband to marry me?" I teased.

I started to chuckle when I saw her cheeks turn to a softer shade of pink. The sixty-year-old woman gets a tad flustered when I sometimes lay my moves on her.

Hell, I only do it to get a rise out of her.

"I don't think you could handle me, Sir." She said more confidently, but those cheeks still held the bright shade of pink.

"Ah, you're probably right," I replied dejectedly and then waved a hand to her. "Good night, you feisty cougar," I chuckled and gave her a playful wink.

As I stepped onto the elevator she replied, "I will see you first thing in the morning, Sir."

Pressing the lower-level button, the doors closed and then the elevator descended to the building's underground parking garage.

I walked over to my black BMW parked in the space reserved for the owner of Robertson's Bank and Trust. Shit, it still feels weird parking in this space after it belonged to my father for so long.

I disarmed the alarm and sighed in relief as I slipped in behind the wheel, automatically groaning when I heard my phone ringing and buzzing vigorously inside my suit jacket pocket. Fuck my life...

Pulling the phone out, I saw Tommy's goofy face along with his name flashing brightly across the screen. No really, fuck.my.life...

Tommy's my cousin but he's also my best friend. He's a total comedian ninety-nine percent of the time, but with all that aside, he's the brother I never had. He's the only guy I could ever truly rely on, and I know he will always have my back.

When I was away at college, he joined the marines. A couple of years ago, he finally returned from his final tour in Iraq. I was so happy to finally have him home. Dad and I were always worried about him so far aqay. Afraid that one day we would receive that horrific knock on our door.

After returning, he took all the money he saved over the years during his time in the marines and bought a fixer-upper, and turned it into a gym. The brilliant asshole now trains guys who have the potential to become MMA fighters. Tommy's really good, and trust me, I'm not just saying that because he's family. L

I mentally groaned, knowing damn well Tommy's only calling to ask if I would grab a few drinks with him tonight. He tends to do this shit just about every goddamn night. How the fuck he knows when I get off, is still a mystery to me. I mean, I never leave at the same time every night.

God, you should have seen how excited he was after learning about the club, Wonderland. I think he's lonely if you asked me.


Letting his call go to voicemail, I start laughing when I hear the chirping sound, alerting me that I just received a text message—I already know it was from him.

Unlocking the screen, I pulled up his message and instantly burst out laughing. I was right.

Tommy:
Don't you fucking dare send me to voicemail, you fucking asshole! Come on, man. Grab a quick drink with me.

Before I was able to respond, I suddenly felt my passenger door jerk open. Low and behold, it was Tommy, out of breath like he just finished running a marathon or something.

With a scowl on his face, he shook his head slowly. "Wow. Real fucking nice, bro. I can't believe you sent me to fucking voicemail like that. Come on. I thought we were better than that, fam?"

He fastened his seatbelt, "you better have not been trying to text me some bullshit like telling me to fuck off." He said, making himself more comfortable.

He grabs my pack of cigarettes and slips one into his mouth, lighting the end.

I snatched the pack out of his hand, "I'm too fucking tired tonight, Tommy. It's been a hell of a long day," I said backing out of the parking space.


"Where is your car?" I asked him as I pulled out of the garage.

Tommy slightly nudges me with his shoulder and smirked, "oh, come on, don't be such a pussy, Brad."

"Fuck, you. Fuck, fine. One goddamn drink, Tommy—that's it." I growled in frustration.

God, if I didn't just go on and give in now, the asshole would have continued to pester me all night until I'd eventually cave. So, I'll save myself from all that irritating bullshit and time.

He gives me a cocky smile, playfully patting my back, "of course, just one drink." He agreed and then laughs settling further into the leather seat.

"The pub?" I checked while I steered us towards one of our favorite pubs in town.

"Of course. Where else, fam?" he chuckled.

Prick...

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?Questions?

-Feelings about Brad

-Feelings about Barb?

-Feelings about Tommy?

-Any thoughts or theories?




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