Fort Brothers

0007 — Edmund

I’d pounded out two miles, pushing through the dull ache in my calves until my breathing finally levelled out. Showered, towelled off, yanked my pants on, and grabbed the red silk undershirt Bryan got me for my 29th.

That night we didn’t bullshit about how f****d the empire already was. Business was circling the drain. I won’t lie — I was neck-deep in what started the collapse.

My f**k-ups helped drag it down. But we sat on the porch like hard men with a bottle between us, looked each other dead in the eye, swore we’d build the damn thing anyway, and toasted to the blood and sweat it would take.

Fifteen minutes after Bryan left my house, the call came.

He was in the ER.

A truck had hit him broadside at full speed.

The impact folded the driver's side inward and sent the car rolling. Six times. Maybe eight. Nobody seemed sure. The airbags were useless.

The seatbelt kept him inside the car. That much we knew. Everything else was bad luck.

I’ve been steering this ship alone ever since. Wake up. Pound the pavement. Shower. Suit up. Black coffee. Office. Grind. More coffee. Repeat.

I dropped into the chair at the table and started tearing through emails. That’s when my phone rang.

Rayner flashed across the screen. I snatched the phone and answered.

“Did you check your email? The forwards. Tell me you saw them.”

I’d seen the emails last night. Didn’t dig into them.

Honestly? I had no f*****g clue what to say. Everything was accelerating. The empire wasn’t growing, it was detonating. 24 hours ago I signed the biggest deal of my life. Chinese conglomerate. Generational money. Now the Ministry was calling. They wanted a seat at the table.

I rubbed my temple. “What’s the next step?” 7am. Last thing I needed was my brain frying this early.

Rayner laughed on the other end. Not quite a laugh, a scoff or somewhere in between. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

"Yes," I answered, eager as hell if he had any. Any suggestions or ideas at this point—I’d take them.

"Man, you're the CEO here. The one running the company. Or did you forget that already?"

Maybe. And the fact is, I’d never handled anything with the government. All our deals were with private firms. Boards, contracts, handshakes. No audits. No committees. The government played by different rules. Rules I didn’t know, and if there’s red tape in the way, someone’s gonna sign something dumb, miss something, and tank years of work. I cut that out.

"So you're the genius who came up with the brilliant idea that's got the empire rolling," Rayner said.

I couldn’t tell if he meant it as a genuine compliment or if it was straight sarcasm.

"I’ll try to schedule a meeting with the ministry and that's basically the next step — meet them, hash out more terms on the contract, the partnership, or whatever pressure they’re putting on."

I nodded, but f**k that. I didn’t like the pressure Rayner just dropped. Hadn’t he even read the f*****g email? The contract? All that dense English, the this-and-that clauses, and the endless fine print.

The figure. That’s what snapped me to attention. “Bottom line. How much are we talking about?”

"Dude, it's a staggering sum—"

The doorbell rang. I set my coffee on the desk and headed for it. I swiped the card from the panel, shoved it into my back pocket, and yanked the door open.

Whatever Rayner was saying turned into meaningless static. Or maybe that's all I could hear. I killed the call without a word.

Everything narrowed. Focus. Attention. All of it. Down to one person on the threshold.

Isa.

My throat locked up. I had to swallow because f**k — she looked lethal in that blue scrub dress. A few buttons were open at the top, teasing just enough to dry my mouth all over again.

My eyes drifted lower on their own, tracing the tight fabric stretched across her ass, hunting for any hint of panty lines that never appeared.

"Hi," she lifted the key card between two fingers. “The door wasn’t opening.”

I stared at the card for a second too long, then at her hand, then back at her hips before I could stop myself. I swallowed again, throat still painfully dry. It wasn’t the card. The fact that she had hers. That I had to use mine. That I was the one opening the door for her.

No.

What f****d me was how she looked. Like the first sunrise after a long winter — you just stand there quiet and painfully aware of the twitch in your pants and the heat crawling up your neck.

***

Cold shower? Right. Like I didn’t just spend 10 minutes fighting my shirt buttons. I turned my face from the cold mist rising off the tiles and bit down hard.

Cancel the whole f*****g Friday? Yeah, that thought hit like a drug.

Disappear into the sheets, rip my pants down and stroke my d**k raw until I'm spent and can think straight.

Can’t. Meeting in two hours.

I groaned low in my throat and grabbed myself through my pants, giving my aching shaft a rough, frustrated squeeze. Worse.

It leaks a little, aching more.

My brain takes it to the gutter. Isa on her knees, those pretty lips stretched wide around my c**k, warm and sloppy, drooling down her chin while she takes me deeper, until my hand's in her hair and I'm not thinking anymore...

Fuck...