Mister Manhattan (Cocky Hero Club) by Alexandria Sure



“Mr. Morgan, as I mentioned, my name is Jurnee Messer and–”

“How did you get on my schedule?”

Graham sat up and pushed a button on the phone to the right of his chair. “Sadie? How did this meeting get on my schedule?” He barked into the speaker.

“Hello, Graham.” Soraya, Graham’s wife, voice filled the conference room.

Graham may have been one of the ten youngest self-made billionaires in the country, but he had one weakness that took him to his knees every time. His family. The way I heard it, Soraya Morgan broke through her future husband’s workaholic super-suit the day they met on a train. Even Alan talks about the old Graham that would fire secretaries before they had time to finish their first cup of coffee.

“Shit.” Graham leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Hey, Jurnee. How’s the meeting going with my husband?” Her voice got louder to ensure all could hear.

Jurnee. It absolutely could not be the crazy woman from yesterday. As she watched me put all the pieces in place, the smile on her face confirmed who she was. How did she get here? How did she know I was scheduled to be in this meeting? Was she trying to get a leg up by running into me out of the office?

“Soraya. Hello. The meeting is going…” Jurnee dragged his gaze from me to Graham.

“Graham Morgan.” Soraya’s warning tone was crystal clear. “May I speak to you out here, please?”

“On my way.” He was on his feet before he had all his words out.

“Bring Anderson with you, please. And, Jurnee, let’s plan on you coming over for lunch next week. I promised Avery and Genevieve that I’d keep you entertained until they return.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.” Jurnee’s tone was an odd mixture of relief and off-balance. The phone disconnected, and I stared at Jurnee. Who the hell was this woman? How did she know Graham’s baby momma and her best friends? What the hell is going on?

Graham cleared his throat as I wondered if this woman’s name was really Jurnee. His lifted eyebrow went up when I gazed at him. I was keeping his wife waiting, Graham Morgan kept a lot of people waiting, Soraya Morgan was not one of those people.

I made my way around the conference room table and exited behind him. Not before stealing a quick look at Jurnee, who was packing up her presentation.

Once we were in the hallway, Graham handed me the folder that had been in front of him on the table. “This is for you. Make it happen.”

I scanned the first page inside of the folder. “Latte Love? Are you kidding me?”

“Have you known me to joke?”

“We’re taking this on?”

“Did you hear who answered when I called my secretary?”

The question made me more confused but I answered, “Soraya.”

“My wife. Anderson, one thing you will learn when you fall in love, hopefully quickly, is it’s far easier to give her whatever she wants. Happy wife… blah blah blah.”

“Soraya didn’t even ask you to consider this partnership and had she witnessed the presentation that woman had started–”

Graham laughed and headed toward his office.

“You know she’s pitching a single coffee shop, right?”

He stopped, “Well, she will be partnering with us for a chain of coffee shops, and your task is to determine how we flip my wife’s curious project into an advantage for the firm.”

“Doesn’t Alan onboard new partnerships?”

Graham started walking again, “Alan is on two projects, and you wanted to learn everything. Here’s this week’s everything.”

“Actually, I believe I asked if there was a possibility of a partnership for me in the future.” I corrected him.

“Step one of moving toward a discussion about a partnership, making sure my wife stays extremely happy.”

As we turned the corner, Soraya stood with their four-year-old son on her hip.

“Baby, you can’t–” Graham strode to his wife and reached for the child with outstretched arms.

“Graham, you had better have been nice in there.” Soraya cut him off with her hands on her hips.

The tips of her hair were bright pink. For a brief moment, I wished I had paid attention when my assistant had listed his thoughts on how the color of Soraya’s tips matched her mood. My thoughts returned to the woman in the conference room.

“Soraya–”