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No good ever comes from a red-head in a stolen dress with her worldly possessions at her feet.
I should have known she was trouble when smoke and sin followed her into my bar and she challenged me to a game.
She may have won my watch, but she started a war.
As she slipped my Breitling off my wrist and onto her own, she gleefully announced she was the luckiest girl in the world.
Yeah, lucky to everyone but me.
Because the moment her muddy boots stomped down the stairs and up my spine, my empire started to crumble.
My cashmere charm is wrinkling.
My gentlemanly facade is cracking.
My enemies are closing in.
Maybe the fortune teller was right:
The Queen of Hearts will drag me down to hell.
At least it’s wonderfully warm among the flames.
