The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..30..

"I think this is a great idea. Building a club." Malcolm claps as he stands to shake Eric's hand across the table. "I don't know why I never thought of it, honestly."

"Lots of money can be made in nightclubs," Michael chimes in as he and Malcolm shake hands next. "And being a music exec, with a little bit of pull in the game," He chuckles. "will help our start up greatly. Now we need to bring the vision for the building to life, since we already have the land."

"This is going to be great." Malcolm claps again.

"So, Mr. Jackson, you don't mind being partners in a club that will probably rival your own brother's?" Eric asks with a cocked brow.

"No, I don't have a problem with that, Mr. Southern." Michael asserts, sincerely. "My brother has his business ventures, and I have mine. We have the same blood, but we are complete opposites."

"I can tell." Malcolm smiles as he turns to me. "Can I see your notes, bunny?"

"You're bunny, Tamera?" Britta chortles and I arch a brow at her as the room falls silent.

"She is." Malcolm replies calmly through the silence and Britt swallows. "Do you not like my daughter's pet name, Miss Sails?"

Something lights up in Britta's eyes and she smiles at me before looking to my father.

"No, sir, Mr. Stewart," She practically purrs. "my father calls me "dumpling"."

"Why?" Malcolm asks then I tune out the rest of their conversation.

Rolling my eyes, I walk to the end of the table away from them.

"Can we compare notes, Miss Stewart?" Michael asks as he walks up behind me with his own.

"Why?" I scoff, staring at the scribbles on the notepad.

He didn't take any damn notes. He just wanted a reason to come up to me... yet again.

"Do you always have to reply to my questions with that?" He asks, seemingly annoyed.

"Why--" I begin, smirking at the fact that I've annoyed him. "yes I do. Why?"

Michael smiles and mine disappears, because I see it doesn't annoy him. Dammit. "More and more, Tamera. Now, where do you wanna go talk?"

"Who says we're talking?" I scoff, packing my things.

He cocks a cocky brow. "I do."

"And who are you?" I ask, staring into his eyes.

Michael leans close to my face and I gasp quietly as he whispers. "A man who really really wants you."

"Just to fuck." I whisper back.

"Trust me, Tamera, if I only wanted to fuck you, I would have already fucked you." He asserts while licking his lips. My eyes narrow then I push past him. He sighs loudly and curses himself before calling my name. "Tamera."

"Where are you going, Tam?" Eric asks when I reach the door and open it.

"To lunch."

"Well, don't--"

I walk out of the office before he can finish his sentence, but the door doesn't close behind me.

"Where are you going, Tamera?" Michael calls as I walk around my desk to grab my handbag.

"To mind my business." I mumble, digging around for my wallet to make sure it's still there. "Maybe take a cue?"

"I'll take you to lunch." He offers as I walk around my desk toward the elevator.