The rain pelted against the windows of Nakamura Capital Holdings. Nico's head throbbed with each little droplet's impact, his bloodshot eyes struggling to focus on the elevator buttons. Last night's stream had gone on longer than expected, Malachio had found some homeless guy who'd do anything for fifty bucks and a sandwich. The memory of entrails spilling across the plastic-covered floor made Nico's cock twitch involuntarily in his dirty slacks.
"Fuck, I'm late," he muttered, stumbling into the office hallway. His massive frame barely fit between the cubicle rows as he barreled forward, his mind was still half-trapped in the crimson haze of last night's broadcast.
The temp job at NCH had been Malachio's idea—"diversifying their portfolio" he called it. The truth was much simpler: the Murder Circus needed a legitimate front for tax purposes, and Mal and Daisy needed nights to film their "specialty content" without Nico's hulking presence. Solo shows brought in different clientele with specific tastes that paid premium rates. Besides, someone had to earn steady income while they expanded their underground empire.
Ruban's piggy face appeared around a corner. "Rossi! That's the third time this—"
"Sorry boss, won't happen again," Nico grunted without slowing down. His shoulder clipped someone hard enough to send their papers flying, but he barely registered it.
"Shit! My bad!" He flashed an inappropriate grin that was way too wide and eager for a simple apology. "Didn't see ya there!"
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Malachio: "Stop being a pussy and ask that freak out already. Viewers want to see fresh meat. Get us some good footage tonight or I'll tell Daisy about that time I caught you with her favorite knife."
Nico's face flushed hot. That knife incident had been humiliating, Mal had made him perform for the camera while Daisy was out, a "siblings only" stream that their most devoted patrons still referenced in chat.
Then he spotted them across the office floor. His obsession. His fixation. The only thing in this shithole that was worth looking at. Blood rushed to his groin so fast it made him dizzy, his slacks doing nothing to hide the growing bulge.
"Today," he whispered to himself as he picked up his determined pace. "Gonna do it today."
He reached their desk, attempting to lean casually against it like he'd seen cool guys do in movies. But, his massive frame awkwardly tilted, while his muscles tensed in an unnatural pose.
"Hey," he started, with his voice cracking like a teenager's. "You know what's on the menu? Me-n-u." The words tumbled out in a rush, his face flushing with embarrassment at his own stupidity.
His elbow knocked into their coffee mug, sending the dark liquid cascading across their important documents. Panic flashed across his childlike features.
"Fuck! Shit! I didn't—" His massive hands fluttered uselessly over the spreading stain. "I can fix it! I can fix it!"
