POV
Mi'shod

Being an A-type is hard, being a rich A-type is harder; a thousand gold-diggers nipping at your heels, bitches pretending they're pregnant.

Sorry let's start over, my name is Mi'shod Brooks, I'm an A-type, I'm twenty-five and the heir to my father's multi-million dollar fortune.

Now, I know you're probably saying, you're a wealthy A-type, from a family that grows in power by the day; yet you're complaining.

Fuck yes I'm complaining, it's not easy, everyone expects A-types to be strong, physically and emotionally, we can't even cry without being seen as pussies.

As if my life wasn't difficult enough, my father explained to me that he would not leave his business to me.

He said and I quote, "I'm not stepping down until you grow up, that means no more fuckin every C-type who turns your head. I want you married with an heir. I'll find the perfect wife for you." I thought it was ridiculous, but I wanted the company.

I worked too hard, said, did and lost too much for the business I was taught to love.

Buying great companies, making them excellent, then selling them for a way bigger profit.

That's the basics, but it's not all fun and games, one must be cutthroat. My father is cutthroat, I'm worst.

So he knew, I was willing to do anything to take over F&R Incorporated and drive it to the next level.

Of course, I agreed to play along, I was sure it was going to be easy, just marry whatever C-type my father could find.

My shrewd ass father goes and brokers me off, all for a deal with the eldest Galloway.

Now the Galloway's are powerful, the third most powerful family worldwide. Most of the businesses, land, and homes, up and down the east coast belong to someone with the last name Galloway.

Through deals their family made during the early days of our country, helping to build America. They're old money, and even that I could get on board with, but then I find out Galloway is married to a Donaldson.

Now every A-type knows about Donaldson's. They're the fifth most powerful family, and they're mostly C-types. Rich, seductive, powerful C-types.

They also help a lot of their type, giving massive donations, outreach programs, blood drives, the list goes on and on. But knowing he came from two great families, I saw my father's desire.

It's hard to reach the table, the table of families, for a hundred or so years there's only been fifty-nine families, and they decide the direction the world takes.

If this marriage works, we'd have an in. I was getting into the idea, but then I met the little fuck, and he is nothing like what my father said, hell... nothing like his profile.

The profile system contains bios on every living and dead person, it contains school transcripts, net worth, type category, nothing too personal.

His bio showed me a guy who graduated high school with high honors, thought to be headed to the supreme school of excellence, Harmen college.

But meeting him was horrible, nothing like a Donaldson, except for being gorgeous.

He cursed non-stop, he was wasted off of God knows what drug, the first time we met.

Seeing him made me change my mind on the worthiness of the arrangement.

I should have left it at that, but Jasper's attitude triggered my competitiveness.

He thought he was tough shit, and I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong. I wanted to make him, behave, to submit, to be a C-type, which clearly he wasn't very good at.

Cut to a month after meeting him, our father's, decided we would marry as soon as possible, they gave us a six month engagement period, where we were to get to know each other.

I hated having to follow my father's orders, I am an A-type, but I'm an A-type who wanted my father's company, so I reluctantly agreed.

The only good thing about being put into an arranged marriage was the house our parents bought for us to live in.

A gorgeous house in Valley Hills, a quiet upper-class neighborhood. The house was white and gray, two stories, it was ideal for raising a family.

Beautiful backyard, with a sweet pool, in-ground grill, and room to host massive parties, if I partied or had more than two friends.

Not that I wanted that because I didn't; I tried that life.

I got married right out of high school, to my high school sweetheart, a beautiful C-type named Lars.

He was smart, delicate and perfectly submissive, he knew how to make an A-type feel like an A-type.

But he wasn't happy with me, couldn't handle the pressure of being with someone of my status.

I worked a lot, and he couldn't handle the late hours, three years after college; I caught him sleeping around with my then good friend.

They ran off together, last I heard they live in Rome. I'm not bitter or anything, but it also didn't make me love the idea of remarrying.

Anyway... Things with Jasper aren't easy, he's crude, he's constantly disrespectful. The only moments of peace I've had since we moved in together, are the moments when I'm at work or screwing Bobby.

I agreed to marry Jasper, but we barely talked, let alone have sex, so I figured we'd have an open relationship.

Coming home from work, I don't know what I expected, maybe a meal, my future wife coming to the door to greet me...

I didn't expect to walk into our house, pass the teched-out living room, with its crisp trimmed furniture, Amagory couches and love seats.

Jasper's mom decorated, he really was the one good spot about Jasper. He was warm and didn't take shit from Jasper. He reminds me of my mom.

I checked the kitchen, fit for a restaurant, with four ovens, and six burners.

Great countertops for chopping and prepping, yet it was completely empty.

He wasn't in our room, but surprisingly it was clean, as was everything else and we didn't have a maid.

That was a good thing about Jasper, he was a neat freak. Our bedroom was dark, Jasper decorated it. Filled it with a diamond chandelier, sleek sheets, and a large slime Hantosh bed.

I'll admit the black futuristic feel of the room was fucking sexy, but it was dry as far as fuckin goes, so...

I found him in our walk-in closet, both sides were filled with our things. My side held suits and ties, shoes and watches.

Then there was his side, filled with shoes, suits, ties, and watches. Plus the shit made specifically for C-types, shirts the hung down past the knee.

Short shorts of every color, a thousand clutch purses, earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. The shit was undoubtedly worth close to two million dollars, it was disgusting.

Yet I enjoyed seeing him standing there, in only a pair of tight gray underwear, trying different poses in the mirror, snapping pics with his phone.

I realized he had more muscle than I thought, but his ass was surprisingly perfectly fat.

For a second I thought about making a pass at him, but we barely spoke when we weren't fighting, so I just watched him.

He posed three more times, before spotting me in the mirror, his smirk becoming a scowl, while his phone was thrown on one of the white cushioned chairs.

"What are you doing creep?" He asked, rifling through the bags of new and expensive clothes.

He had bags from Thurman's, and there isn't a thing inside Thurman's below six hundred dollars.

He pulled out a lacey see-through robe and covered up, my eyes still ravishing him.

I really liked his areola's, they were shaped like quarters, and seeing them caused my perverted mind to imagine all the ways I could tease them.

"You do know we're getting married in exactly four months and twenty-four days. You're gonna be my wife, you should definitely get used to me seeing you naked." I said, smirking at his blush.

"Yeah well... We aren't married yet, so stop eye raping me." He said.

"Whatever...  You know what, how about instead of spending your allowance on trivial bullshit, maybe you could try and learn how to be a wife. I'm at work all day and come home to what... Nothing. You couldn't make me anything to eat?" I asked.

You'd think I slapped him, with the way his sharp eyes cut into me.

"Now you want me to cook for you, I don't think so. I don't cook. And furthermore, what I do with the money my parents give me, that's my business. Don't get mad at me, simply because you can't afford to keep up with my shopping habits.

"Oh I could more than afford to keep up, there are fifty million dollars in my checking account alone, and guess what... it's my money, not my parents. Grow up." I said, turning and storming out.

The little fuck really knew how to piss me off, and he was such a tease, but I honestly don't believe he means it. He's just naturally flirty.

# # #

I guess something I said got to him because about two weeks after the allowance incident, I came home to find he'd actually cooked.

To find the really could cook, it's something he's really good at. After that first one, the meals kept coming.

His attitude was still worth shit though, but I ate his food anyway, even prepared me lunches to take to work.

And that was routine for a while, then during the first week of our second month, we had our first huge fight.

He found out about Bobby, and it was horrible...

I was in my office, I'd just gotten off the phone with a new prospective client. My cousin, Bernard Ruts.

He'd finally cleaned enough of his dirty money, to buy into my father's company.

My father refused to do business with his older brother, Markell, so I worked out a deal with my little cousin, Benny.

He gave me seventy million, and I made him a silent partner.

Benny and I are really close, and he had a head for business, the only thing holding him back was his father's name.

My uncle, Markell Ruts is a notorious gangster. Selling everything from drugs, guns, cars, people, houses and apartments.

He's wealthy and dangerous, he's as powerful as one can become in the illegal world, but he's made things hard for him and his two sons.

Not in the monetary sense, he's not in danger, but people outside of the crime network don't want to do business with the Ruts family.

It's why my dad changed his last name to Brooks.

Anyway, I was excited to be bringing in seventy million to the company, and I was excited to work with my favorite cousin.

We were another step closer to our ultimate goal.

A seat for our family at the table of families. World shapers, world changers. Powerful men.

I was so excited that I allowed my assistant, to talk me into some midday sex. Bobby didn't have to do much to convince me.

He came in after hearing me yell out in happiness, he was worried, but his worry turned to genuine gladness, as I explained.

"Congrats Mr. Brooks." He said, being professional, even though I'd fucked him at least two dozen times. "Come here," I said, loving the way his ass looked in his cotton work pants.

He walked over to me, and one thing led to another. As we kissed, a short series of pecks; I might have pulled his pants down and palmed his ass.

Then, I may have bent him over my desk and slid inside his always wet tunnel. I mean Bobby's ass was made for me.

So we were fuckin, I'm pounding into his sweetmeat when I hear a quick commotion, my secretary, who's also my other cousin, Micah.

His loud ghetto ass started shouting, "No, you ain't about to just pop up on my cousin!" Micah snapped.

I tried to gather myself, but Bobby tightened up his walls and kept shoving back against me.

My office door burst open and Jasper stood there, rage and surprise in his eyes, Micah's high yellow ass stood doing nothing. Surprise on his face.

"You know I'm telling my daddy right? I'm so glad you did this... I was looking for a way out, and your dumb ass just handed it to me. Excuse me, whore... Yes, you." Jasper said, talking to Bobby suddenly, as he finally climbed away from me.

"I want you to know, that if I were really with him, I'd be beating your head against one of these walls in here. But I'm not, so thank you as well slut puppy." He said, turning and sashaying away.

I fixed my attire, and walked around Bobby, shoving pass my laughing cousin. I followed after a strutting Jasper, he walked fast as fuck when he was pissed.

I called his name as he slipped inside the elevator, the elevator almost shut, but my hand stopped it just in time.

I walked in and the doors shut after we went down a few floors I spoke.

"You can't tell your dad, okay... Please." I said quickly, as the doors shut.

"Why not, my fiancé is cheating on me with his assistant. I think my parents would want to know that." He pulled the fiancé card and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah well I was fucking Bobby, a whole year before I met you, and it's not like you and me have sex." I scoffed.

"It's two thousand and nineteen, not eighteen fifty-seven. And in case you are unaware, C-types in America, we have rights now. And one of them is the right to choose when and who I have sex with. I don't even know you well enough to just fuck around, and I certainly don't like you enough." He ended his rant, and I just fell silent.

"You know with a mouth like that, you should be a lawyer." I muttered, and he sighed, "Keep that shit to yourself."

"Look, let's just go home and talk this out," I suggested. "Why, don't you want to keep screwing your assistant? Who by the way doesn't have shit on me? He's a four at best." He spits.

"He's not a four, and is that jealousy I hear?" I asked. "Jealousy, you are nothing to me, but the bigger question is why shouldn't I tell my parents about slut puppy?" He asked.

"His name is B..."

"I don't really care, answer my question." He commanded, and I made a noise at his authoritative tone.

"Fine... My father wants your father as an ally, and me marrying you makes that happen, if I fail I don't get the company, and I worked too hard not to get this company." I explained.

"So you're using me?" He asked. "Yes," I answered honestly. "Well, at least you're finally being honest. So what do you want to happen now?" He asked.

"I'm willing to really give us a try if you are," I said. "And what does that entail?" He asked. "We'll discuss that at home," I answered.

We weren't friends, we weren't a real couple, but I was willing to give it a try.

I hated the idea of marriage, I couldn't give myself like that again, but maybe Jasper and I could learn to tolerate one another.

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