Welcome back, readers! Or just welcome to those of you discovering GREED for the first time; so glad you're here! The original one-shot of GREED was over fifteen thousand words, so for the sake of chapter length continuity for the entire story, I've split that chapter into six smaller chapters of fairly comparable size. Also, it was smarter to replace the o/s with this first chapter (rather than reposting it as a new story) because so many people put the story on alert, and I didn't want them to miss out on the extension. I'll post two chapters a day from now through Tuesday, and then the new chapter of the extended story will go live on Wednesday. I didn't want to overwhelm any new readers with too many chapters thrown at them immediately, so I figured this was the smartest approach. My hope is to stick with posting a new chapter every Sunday and Wednesday. So, take your time over the next three days and refresh your memory of where our characters journeyed in the one-shot, get into that GREEDy groove, and enjoy!

Greed: noun \grēd\ (Latin - Avaritia)

1 : a selfish desire to have more of something


"Leaving so soon?" Emmett sauntered out of the bathroom suite, wrapped in the hotel's finest luxury Turkish cotton. Condom wrappers tossed haphazardly on the floor and the scent of sex that lingered in the air still hinted at their latest round of fucking.

"Time's up, loverboy."

He watched her move with purpose around the room as she gathered her undergarments and briefcase. After sipping the last of her champagne, she took her coat from the rack.

"Same time next week?"

She smiled and tied the belt. "On the dot."

"I'll walk you out." He followed behind her, but as she reached for the door knob, he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

His semi-hard cock jabbed at her.

"Feel that?" His kiss was hard, his tongue teasing relentlessly. "Sure you need to go?"

"Got another grand?" Emmett was a great fuck, but this was about time, and time was money, and money was power.

And power . . . well, that was everything.

He pulled back, his eyebrow raised incredulously. "Come on." His mouth demanded hers again. "Chump change."

With her hand on his chest, she pushed him backwards a step to undo her belt, exposing her lace bra and panties. "All yours."




Emmett always made sure to wash the smell of pussy from his body before walking through the door. Rosalie might be flighty, but she wasn't an idiot. He doubted she'd ever be able to follow through on her threats to leave if she caught him screwing around— she loved the luxury of their life way too much— but he couldn't afford to call her bluff. His father was all about appearances, and there was no way Emmett would ever inherit the company if Carlisle knew he was having an affair.

Could he even call it an affair?

There were plenty of women who threw themselves at Emmett's feet, but he didn't pay them any attention and he certainly didn't pay them any cash. Only one lady had the power to make him stray and pay for it in the process.


He'd first met her at a political fundraising dinner for Senator Whitlock last summer. She was on the arm of some moronic executive from a competing oil company, but it didn't matter to Emmett. She was well-spoken, highly intelligent and her beauty was captivating. She was irresistible.

Three years of marriage to Rosalie Hale had him bored to death and sexually frustrated . . . he was downright deprived. Of course, as the only daughter of a high-energy, well-known TV evangelist, Rosalie wasn't about to let her man stick his dick any old place, husband or not. Emmett wished he'd received that memo prior to proposing. She had preposterous standards and insisted there were things in the bedroom that were completely unnecessary and beneath her.

Which is exactly why Emmett ended up beneath Isabella.

The night he met her, he flashed his dimples amidst mutual flirtatious looks, which ensured she'd have his number before he left with his plastic Stepford wife.

Emmett took her card as well, and couldn't even wait twenty-four hours before he called her. The fact that she turned out to be an escort didn't faze him in the least. The money was of little consequence; Emmett suddenly felt alive.

Isabella had him tied up and was riding his face an hour after they met for that first dinner. To say he lived for his standing weekly rendezvous on Thursdays was in no way an exaggeration.

And after those evenings, she was always at least a thousand dollars richer. It paid to be desirable. Paid very well, indeed.


Isabella flipped through her date book while her driver negotiated rush hour traffic on the LBJ.

"Straight to The Continental, Miss Swan?"

"No, I need to grab a few things at my place first. My appointment at The Continental isn't until noon."

"Yes, ma'am."

Isabella raised the privacy window in the car and dialed back the call she'd missed during her last go-round with Emmett.

"Two unreturned phone calls . . . I was beginning to think you ran off with a younger man."

She smiled at the irony. But no, nobody would ever take her eyes off this particular prize.

"I could never leave you, my love."

"I'm glad to hear that." His throaty chuckle still managed to send a rush of heat between her legs, despite their significant age difference. "How about you go ahead and clear your schedule for Valentine's weekend next month."

Isabella swallowed tightly, knowing that was a big money weekend for broken-hearted souls in need of company. She hated the thought of losing out on the cash. Last year on Valentine's Day weekend she spent a day and a half with a one-time client in town on business. He got his lonely rocks off and she got fifteen thousand dollars.

She quickly scanned her day planner. Actually . . . February fourteenth was Edward's weekend, but he wouldn't care. She'd make it up to him.

"Aww, you have something special planned, Sugar?"

Her sweetened tone only made him fall harder. "Very special. We'll be going someplace warm and secluded. Very little clothing necessary, but you know you have your card and can go ahead and buy whatever you'd like to show off for me."

Isabella's smile brightened when she heard she'd be able to use the black AMEX card again soon. Having a blank check— so to speak— at her fingertips was always nice, but she didn't want to be an outright thief. When he gave her the green light, she indulged and enjoyed every moment of doing so.

"I'll pick out a few little numbers that will dazzle you."

"So that's a yes?"

She gave herself only a few seconds to hem and haw. It would be worth it in the end. There was a game plan here, and she had to stick to it.

"Yes, of course I'll join you. I can't wait to see what you have planned. You always spoil me, baby."

"Perfect. Now, when can I see you again? You've been busy with your business trips and seminars."

"I'm just back from a symposium in New York, actually." The lie rolled off her tongue so easily. "How about I cook for you on Sunday?"

"Shall I send a car for you?"

"No, I'll have Felix drive me. Be there by three, okay?"

"Sounds perfect. See you then."

Isabella punctuated the call with her signature kiss and smiled. Valentine's weekend with her sugar daddy. Though she could have turned him down very easily, knowing there was money to be made on such a holiday for lonely hearts, she needed to put in her time if she hoped to get her hands on Cullen Oil someday.

The privacy window lowered a crack before she heard her driver's voice. "It's a parking lot, Miss Swan. We might be here a while. Radio says there's an accident up ahead about a mile or so."

"Thanks, Felix. But if we're here for too long, you're going to have to do your best Moses impression and part those cars. I can't be late for The Continental."

"Yes, ma'am." He raised the window as Isabella leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Exhaustion was finally catching up with her after the week she had. Her schedule kept her extraordinarily busy, and in turn, extraordinarily wealthy. There's no rest for the weary though, and there sure as hell isn't any money for the weary, either.

As long as she played her cards right, Easy Street would be right around the corner. Being married to Carlisle Cullen would be the ultimate game-changer. To be on the arm of the man who owned a hundred billion dollar oil company was nothing to sneeze at. With all that money came power and prestige — Isabella salivated at the thought. People who had money like that made others stop and listen, had them working for them day and night, and were constantly at their beck and call. The amount of influence that walked hand in hand with that kind of money was incomparable and Isabella's ultimate goal. The power she and Jasper could wield together would be unparalleled. Not that she didn't keep a good chunk of money for herself; the finer things in life came with this territory. Of course, the stash of flash drives, hidden videos and recorded conversations were always in her private arsenal in case her house of cards came tumbling down.

At the end of the day, it would always be about protecting your own neck.

A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous; and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call: Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!

Thanks for reading! xo, Jen