Instead, he opened it, told Bonnie, his supervisor, and now Bonnie was dead and he was trapped in his broom closet of an office with two terrifying men standing over him.
It started a few weeks ago, when Bonnie had put him on the Confederated Global account. It was a huge account, millions of dollars flowing in and out, and Landman & Zack had a whole team of lawyers looking after it. Foggy had just been supposed to consolidate some data for a presentation, but he’d kept looking at the numbers, and it had just looked wrong. So he’d kept looking, started pulling in other files, until he was sure that Confed Global was up to something shady.
He’d brought it to Bonnie, who was a good person, who grumbled whenever they skimmed too close to the ethical line, and she’d agreed. She’d said she’d take it to the senior partners.
That had been last night.
When he’d come in this morning, there were two men in his office. One lounging in his office chair, all neat, precise edges, the other standing behind him. Under other circumstances, Foggy would have stared at the standing man, probably would have stumbled over his words or said something stupid about how handsome he was, or something awful about the obvious fact that said handsome man was blind.
Under other circumstances, the blind man would have captured all of Foggy’s attention. But the man sitting behind Foggy’s desk as if he owned the place was looking at him, scrutinizing him, taking him apart to see what made him tick.
He apparently liked what he saw, because he gave a smile, all ice and hardness.
“Mr Nelson, please have a seat,” he said, standing up.
“Can I help you?” Foggy managed.
“Please, sit down.”
Foggy sat. The man perched on the side of his desk, and Foggy realized that he had placed himself between these two men, and he had no idea what they wanted from him.
“I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news,” the sharp man said. “Ms Tsing was found dead in her apartment this morning. Apparently, she had a very serious nut allergy. Anaphylaxis is a terrible thing, especially when one is…irresponsible with one’s Epipen.”
Bonnie had kept her Epipen in her purse. When she and Foggy had gone out for lunch on Foggy’s first day at L&Z, she’d told him, just in case.
“What is more shocking is the file that was found near her body.” The man tapped a manila folder that was sitting on Foggy’s desk. “Go ahead.”
When Foggy opened it and realized the contents, the print seemed to swim in front of his eyes.
“Mr Landman and Mr Zack will be deeply…disturbed, I think, to discover that one of their interns has been stealing from their client,” the man continued. “Although I believe the police will most likely be even more interested.”
“This - this isn’t true,” Foggy stammered.
“The truth, Mr Nelson, is not what is under discussion.” The man plucked the file out of Foggy’s shaking hand. “This is enough to have you disbarred, arrested and convicted.” He smiled, all teeth. “Oh, and as a sidebar - Matthew?”
Foggy glanced over his shoulder to see the blind man - Matthew - taking his phone away from his ear.
“It’s done,” Matthew said.
“Thank you. As a sidebar, Confederated Global Investments just purchased the entire block on 39th, between 9th and 10th. We’re thinking of building some condos.” His gaze was icy as Foggy put together the implication. His parents lived in that block, above their hardware store.
“What do you want from me?” Foggy said.
The man chuckled, sending a shiver down Foggy’s spine. “I’ll admit, we were impressed by how quickly you managed to put a case together. Our financial expert was quite…irritated.” Behind him, Matthew snorted. “Now, Ms Tsing was…a disappointment. She should have noticed you were poking your nose where you shouldn’t, we should have been aware of your activities a long time ago. But, it’s all for the best, or so I’m told. You’ve managed to demonstrate your…unique skills. So, Mr Nelson, you should be glad. My employer has decided that you are worth…collecting.” He reached into his jacket and placed a card on Foggy’s desk. “You no longer work for Landman & Zack, by mutual agreement. Tomorrow, nine AM, you’ll start work at Confed Global. Address is on the card.” He stood, buttoning his jacket. “I’m sure you’ll find it…fulfilling work. Matthew.”
He swept out, leaving the false, incriminating file on the desk. Which meant that there were copies.
As Matthew turned to close the door, he flashed Foggy a grin. Foggy was pretty sure that wolves grinned like that at their prey.
When the door closed, Foggy lunged across at the shelves where he’d put the Confed Global files. They were gone. Bonnie had had the only other copy.
And Bonnie was dead, and Confed Global was threatening to have him arrested and to evict his parents if he didn’t work for them.
He didn’t have a choice. No choice at all.
At nine AM, he presented himself at the Confed Global offices. The receptionist frowned at him when he didn’t even know the name of the person he was supposed to meet, until he heard a voice behind him.
“He’s supposed to see Mr Fisk.” Foggy turned to see Matthew, still handsome, still terrifying. “I’ll take him in.” The receptionist shrugged, and Foggy followed Matthew. His frantic mind, desperate to focus on something, noticed that even with his cane, the blind man moved like a predator, practically slinking along the hall, coiled and powerful.
At the end of the hall were a pair of double doors. A tall broad man stood before them, looking as solid and immovable as a granite slab. But he grinned when he saw Matthew, and opened the door.
“Red,” he said as Matthew passed him. Matthew slid a hand over the man’s arm.
“Hey, Frank,” he said, and he grinned, the kind of grin that would have taken Foggy’s breath away if it were directed at him.
But Matthew was already disappearing into the office beyond, and Foggy had to hurry to keep up with him.
The office was huge, one wall completely made of glass, showing New York in all its glory. The furnishings were minimalist, with a Japanese influence in the warm-colored wood and the carefully shaped plants. There was a fountain, trickling gently down one wall. And behind the desk was the man himself, whose name Foggy had only heard this morning.
Mr Fisk was huge, would probably dwarf even the powerfully-built Frank outside the door. He certainly overshadowed the man from Foggy’s office, standing at his side.
“Ah, Mr Nelson, you made it. Thank you, Matthew,” said Fisk’s…aide? Assistant?
“Mr Wesley,” Matthew said, a note of insouciance in his voice as he turned on his heel and left the room. The door closed with a click the volume of thunder.
They didn’t invite him to sit.
Fisk’s evaluation of him was brisk, as if Foggy was of little concern to him. He passed a glance over Foggy, then turned to Wesley.
“I’m sure Mr Donovan will appreciate the extra hands,” Fisk said. He nodded, and Wesley nodded back, then Foggy was being led out the door. “This is the one…with the big mouth?” Fisk said as Wesley reached for the door.
“Yes, sir,” Wesley said.
“Find a use for it.”
The smile that curled around Wesley’s lips may have been the most terrifying thing in a terrifying few days. There was cruelty there, and pleasure, too.
“Of course.”
Foggy found himself pushed out the door. Outside, Matthew was lounging against the wall, while Frank stood at his post. Matthew grinned.
“Is there something wrong with your office?” Wesley snapped.
“Just thought I’d head down with you,” Matthew said, peeling himself off the wall. “He’s coming to legal, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
In a few sentences, Foggy thought he had it all worked out: Wesley didn’t like Matthew, and Matthew enjoyed riling Wesley up. That was something to work with. Matthew turned and led the way down the hall, and Foggy noticed that the back of his hair was standing up. As if someone had run their fingers through it.
In the elevator, Wesley spoke, almost apropos of nothing.
“Mr Fisk is very pleased with how this has turned out,” he said. Matthew shrugged, exuding nonchalance. “He wanted me to communicate his appreciation for your…initiative.”
“Generous of him.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Standing behind them, his hands twisting the strap of his bag, Foggy had no idea what they were talking about, and dreaded ever finding out.
Confed Global’s legal offices turned out to be three offices and a conference table at the end of a hall. The name tags outside the offices proclaimed the corner one to be Ben Donovan’s, the one next to it Matt Murdock’s, and the third was empty. Ben Donovan was an older African-American man, natty in a pinstripe suit, who smiled strangely when Wesley introduced them. Then Wesley casually turned to Matthew and said, “Why don’t you come in so we can give our Mr Nelson his first assignment?”
Wesley closed the door to Foggy’s new office, and nodded at one of the chairs in front of the desk. Not the desk chair.
“Now, Mr Nelson, I believe our meeting yesterday left an…impression with you,” he said, settling into the desk chair himself. Matthew sat in the chair next to Foggy, stretching his legs out. “Mr Fisk would like to make our relationship perfectly clear.”
“You mean that you’ve threatened me into working here?” Foggy said, surprising himself. “You mean that relationship?”
“I think you’ve failed to grasp the depth of what we can do to you, Mr Nelson.” Wesley leaned forward. “We own you, Franklin Percy Nelson. You tried to…I suppose, blow the whistle on a tiny part of our operation. Believe me when I say that your evidence would have barely made a dent in our resources. But it would have been an annoyance. And we eliminate annoyances. You can thank Matthew here that you are sitting in this office instead of sharing Ms Tsing’s…unfortunate fate. In fact, right now, you’re going to show Matthew the depth of your gratitude.” Foggy looked between Wesley and Matthew, between the icy cruelty and the catlike grin. Wesley sighed. “He’s not quick on the uptake, is he? Are you sure about him?”
“I’m sure,” Matthew said.
“Mr Nelson,” said Wesley sharply, dragging Foggy’s gaze back to him. “Perhaps I need to make this clearer. Get on your knees and thank Matthew for his efforts on your behalf.”
The penny dropped, and Foggy felt sick.
“No, no,” he stammered.
Wesley shrugged. “Then the file goes to the police. And your parents are evicted.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Yes, we can, Mr Nelson.” Wesley glanced at his watch. “Ten seconds, or I’ll make the call.”
Foggy looked at Matthew, but there was no mercy there, just a mildly amused grin on a handsome face.
“Five,” said Wesley, implacable.
Foggy was shaking as he slid to his knees. Matthew was only a few inches away, but stretching out his hand felt like reaching across an abyss. He swallowed against his dry mouth when he touched Matthew’s belt buckle, then fumbled it open. Matthew’s hand drifted up, almost gentle on his hair, as he unzipped Matthew’s fly.
Under other circumstances, he would have thought Matthew out of his league, would only have dreamed of seeing his cock, being able to touch it. But here, and now, he wondered frantically how he was going to keep from throwing up.
He slid his hand into Matthew’s pants, finding his cock, pulling it out. Matthew put a little pressure on his head, guiding him down, and he closed his eyes tight before his lips met Matthew’s cock. He could feel the tears sliding down as he took Matthew in, shaking too hard to be careful about his teeth. Matthew hissed and tightened his hand on Foggy’s hair, and Foggy tried again, wrapping his lips around his teeth, trying to breathe deep through his nose, trying not to feel Wesley’s eyes on him, trying to imagine being anywhere but here. Matthew’s hand relaxed, and as Foggy pumped his mouth on his cock, he realized that Matthew was stroking his hair.
Matthew came with a short moan, flooding into Foggy’s mouth, and Foggy swallowed, too afraid to do anything else.
“Excellent,” Wesley said as Foggy pulled off and Matthew tucked himself back into his pants. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine addition to our team.”
“I’m sure he will,” Matthew said with a smirk. He brushed his hand over Foggy’s hair one more time, before standing and going out with Wesley, leaving Foggy on his knees in the middle of his office.
Fill - No Choice At All [1/?]
***
Foggy should have kept his mouth shut.
Instead, he opened it, told Bonnie, his supervisor, and now Bonnie was dead and he was trapped in his broom closet of an office with two terrifying men standing over him.
It started a few weeks ago, when Bonnie had put him on the Confederated Global account. It was a huge account, millions of dollars flowing in and out, and Landman & Zack had a whole team of lawyers looking after it. Foggy had just been supposed to consolidate some data for a presentation, but he’d kept looking at the numbers, and it had just looked wrong. So he’d kept looking, started pulling in other files, until he was sure that Confed Global was up to something shady.
He’d brought it to Bonnie, who was a good person, who grumbled whenever they skimmed too close to the ethical line, and she’d agreed. She’d said she’d take it to the senior partners.
That had been last night.
When he’d come in this morning, there were two men in his office. One lounging in his office chair, all neat, precise edges, the other standing behind him. Under other circumstances, Foggy would have stared at the standing man, probably would have stumbled over his words or said something stupid about how handsome he was, or something awful about the obvious fact that said handsome man was blind.
Under other circumstances, the blind man would have captured all of Foggy’s attention. But the man sitting behind Foggy’s desk as if he owned the place was looking at him, scrutinizing him, taking him apart to see what made him tick.
He apparently liked what he saw, because he gave a smile, all ice and hardness.
“Mr Nelson, please have a seat,” he said, standing up.
“Can I help you?” Foggy managed.
“Please, sit down.”
Foggy sat. The man perched on the side of his desk, and Foggy realized that he had placed himself between these two men, and he had no idea what they wanted from him.
“I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news,” the sharp man said. “Ms Tsing was found dead in her apartment this morning. Apparently, she had a very serious nut allergy. Anaphylaxis is a terrible thing, especially when one is…irresponsible with one’s Epipen.”
Bonnie had kept her Epipen in her purse. When she and Foggy had gone out for lunch on Foggy’s first day at L&Z, she’d told him, just in case.
“What is more shocking is the file that was found near her body.” The man tapped a manila folder that was sitting on Foggy’s desk. “Go ahead.”
When Foggy opened it and realized the contents, the print seemed to swim in front of his eyes.
“Mr Landman and Mr Zack will be deeply…disturbed, I think, to discover that one of their interns has been stealing from their client,” the man continued. “Although I believe the police will most likely be even more interested.”
“This - this isn’t true,” Foggy stammered.
“The truth, Mr Nelson, is not what is under discussion.” The man plucked the file out of Foggy’s shaking hand. “This is enough to have you disbarred, arrested and convicted.” He smiled, all teeth. “Oh, and as a sidebar - Matthew?”
Foggy glanced over his shoulder to see the blind man - Matthew - taking his phone away from his ear.
“It’s done,” Matthew said.
“Thank you. As a sidebar, Confederated Global Investments just purchased the entire block on 39th, between 9th and 10th. We’re thinking of building some condos.” His gaze was icy as Foggy put together the implication. His parents lived in that block, above their hardware store.
“What do you want from me?” Foggy said.
The man chuckled, sending a shiver down Foggy’s spine. “I’ll admit, we were impressed by how quickly you managed to put a case together. Our financial expert was quite…irritated.” Behind him, Matthew snorted. “Now, Ms Tsing was…a disappointment. She should have noticed you were poking your nose where you shouldn’t, we should have been aware of your activities a long time ago. But, it’s all for the best, or so I’m told. You’ve managed to demonstrate your…unique skills. So, Mr Nelson, you should be glad. My employer has decided that you are worth…collecting.” He reached into his jacket and placed a card on Foggy’s desk. “You no longer work for Landman & Zack, by mutual agreement. Tomorrow, nine AM, you’ll start work at Confed Global. Address is on the card.” He stood, buttoning his jacket. “I’m sure you’ll find it…fulfilling work. Matthew.”
He swept out, leaving the false, incriminating file on the desk. Which meant that there were copies.
As Matthew turned to close the door, he flashed Foggy a grin. Foggy was pretty sure that wolves grinned like that at their prey.
When the door closed, Foggy lunged across at the shelves where he’d put the Confed Global files. They were gone. Bonnie had had the only other copy.
And Bonnie was dead, and Confed Global was threatening to have him arrested and to evict his parents if he didn’t work for them.
He didn’t have a choice. No choice at all.
At nine AM, he presented himself at the Confed Global offices. The receptionist frowned at him when he didn’t even know the name of the person he was supposed to meet, until he heard a voice behind him.
“He’s supposed to see Mr Fisk.” Foggy turned to see Matthew, still handsome, still terrifying. “I’ll take him in.” The receptionist shrugged, and Foggy followed Matthew. His frantic mind, desperate to focus on something, noticed that even with his cane, the blind man moved like a predator, practically slinking along the hall, coiled and powerful.
At the end of the hall were a pair of double doors. A tall broad man stood before them, looking as solid and immovable as a granite slab. But he grinned when he saw Matthew, and opened the door.
“Red,” he said as Matthew passed him. Matthew slid a hand over the man’s arm.
“Hey, Frank,” he said, and he grinned, the kind of grin that would have taken Foggy’s breath away if it were directed at him.
But Matthew was already disappearing into the office beyond, and Foggy had to hurry to keep up with him.
The office was huge, one wall completely made of glass, showing New York in all its glory. The furnishings were minimalist, with a Japanese influence in the warm-colored wood and the carefully shaped plants. There was a fountain, trickling gently down one wall. And behind the desk was the man himself, whose name Foggy had only heard this morning.
Mr Fisk was huge, would probably dwarf even the powerfully-built Frank outside the door. He certainly overshadowed the man from Foggy’s office, standing at his side.
“Ah, Mr Nelson, you made it. Thank you, Matthew,” said Fisk’s…aide? Assistant?
“Mr Wesley,” Matthew said, a note of insouciance in his voice as he turned on his heel and left the room. The door closed with a click the volume of thunder.
They didn’t invite him to sit.
Fisk’s evaluation of him was brisk, as if Foggy was of little concern to him. He passed a glance over Foggy, then turned to Wesley.
“I’m sure Mr Donovan will appreciate the extra hands,” Fisk said. He nodded, and Wesley nodded back, then Foggy was being led out the door. “This is the one…with the big mouth?” Fisk said as Wesley reached for the door.
“Yes, sir,” Wesley said.
“Find a use for it.”
The smile that curled around Wesley’s lips may have been the most terrifying thing in a terrifying few days. There was cruelty there, and pleasure, too.
“Of course.”
Foggy found himself pushed out the door. Outside, Matthew was lounging against the wall, while Frank stood at his post. Matthew grinned.
“Is there something wrong with your office?” Wesley snapped.
“Just thought I’d head down with you,” Matthew said, peeling himself off the wall. “He’s coming to legal, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
In a few sentences, Foggy thought he had it all worked out: Wesley didn’t like Matthew, and Matthew enjoyed riling Wesley up. That was something to work with. Matthew turned and led the way down the hall, and Foggy noticed that the back of his hair was standing up. As if someone had run their fingers through it.
In the elevator, Wesley spoke, almost apropos of nothing.
“Mr Fisk is very pleased with how this has turned out,” he said. Matthew shrugged, exuding nonchalance. “He wanted me to communicate his appreciation for your…initiative.”
“Generous of him.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Standing behind them, his hands twisting the strap of his bag, Foggy had no idea what they were talking about, and dreaded ever finding out.
Confed Global’s legal offices turned out to be three offices and a conference table at the end of a hall. The name tags outside the offices proclaimed the corner one to be Ben Donovan’s, the one next to it Matt Murdock’s, and the third was empty. Ben Donovan was an older African-American man, natty in a pinstripe suit, who smiled strangely when Wesley introduced them. Then Wesley casually turned to Matthew and said, “Why don’t you come in so we can give our Mr Nelson his first assignment?”
Wesley closed the door to Foggy’s new office, and nodded at one of the chairs in front of the desk. Not the desk chair.
“Now, Mr Nelson, I believe our meeting yesterday left an…impression with you,” he said, settling into the desk chair himself. Matthew sat in the chair next to Foggy, stretching his legs out. “Mr Fisk would like to make our relationship perfectly clear.”
“You mean that you’ve threatened me into working here?” Foggy said, surprising himself. “You mean that relationship?”
“I think you’ve failed to grasp the depth of what we can do to you, Mr Nelson.” Wesley leaned forward. “We own you, Franklin Percy Nelson. You tried to…I suppose, blow the whistle on a tiny part of our operation. Believe me when I say that your evidence would have barely made a dent in our resources. But it would have been an annoyance. And we eliminate annoyances. You can thank Matthew here that you are sitting in this office instead of sharing Ms Tsing’s…unfortunate fate. In fact, right now, you’re going to show Matthew the depth of your gratitude.” Foggy looked between Wesley and Matthew, between the icy cruelty and the catlike grin. Wesley sighed. “He’s not quick on the uptake, is he? Are you sure about him?”
“I’m sure,” Matthew said.
“Mr Nelson,” said Wesley sharply, dragging Foggy’s gaze back to him. “Perhaps I need to make this clearer. Get on your knees and thank Matthew for his efforts on your behalf.”
The penny dropped, and Foggy felt sick.
“No, no,” he stammered.
Wesley shrugged. “Then the file goes to the police. And your parents are evicted.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Yes, we can, Mr Nelson.” Wesley glanced at his watch. “Ten seconds, or I’ll make the call.”
Foggy looked at Matthew, but there was no mercy there, just a mildly amused grin on a handsome face.
“Five,” said Wesley, implacable.
Foggy was shaking as he slid to his knees. Matthew was only a few inches away, but stretching out his hand felt like reaching across an abyss. He swallowed against his dry mouth when he touched Matthew’s belt buckle, then fumbled it open. Matthew’s hand drifted up, almost gentle on his hair, as he unzipped Matthew’s fly.
Under other circumstances, he would have thought Matthew out of his league, would only have dreamed of seeing his cock, being able to touch it. But here, and now, he wondered frantically how he was going to keep from throwing up.
He slid his hand into Matthew’s pants, finding his cock, pulling it out. Matthew put a little pressure on his head, guiding him down, and he closed his eyes tight before his lips met Matthew’s cock. He could feel the tears sliding down as he took Matthew in, shaking too hard to be careful about his teeth. Matthew hissed and tightened his hand on Foggy’s hair, and Foggy tried again, wrapping his lips around his teeth, trying to breathe deep through his nose, trying not to feel Wesley’s eyes on him, trying to imagine being anywhere but here. Matthew’s hand relaxed, and as Foggy pumped his mouth on his cock, he realized that Matthew was stroking his hair.
Matthew came with a short moan, flooding into Foggy’s mouth, and Foggy swallowed, too afraid to do anything else.
“Excellent,” Wesley said as Foggy pulled off and Matthew tucked himself back into his pants. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine addition to our team.”
“I’m sure he will,” Matthew said with a smirk. He brushed his hand over Foggy’s hair one more time, before standing and going out with Wesley, leaving Foggy on his knees in the middle of his office.