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I have no remorse for taking that man’s life. He was a cruel, sick bastard who was begging for his death without saying it. Under all that hard exterior and mask he had on, he was a weak man. All his companies are drowning in debt, which I’m not helping with. It’s taken me years to just get into his bank accounts just for them to be dry like the Sahara. I got businesses up and running, running a steady cash flow into an offshore account for when I retire. I’m not paying off his debt.

The car comes to a halt, pulling me away from my thoughts, the penthouse looms in my peripheral. I climb out of the SUV, shutting the door behind me as it drives off, taking Viktor home. I walk through the main doors of the building and walk over to my private elevator, inputting my pin and stepping inside.

I have four buttons here. Basement, Lobby, Penthouse, Roof. I press the penthouse and lean against the wall, letting my shoulders roll back and resting my head on the wall. The elevator dings, the doors sliding open.

“Мой сын!” Mom says as I step out of the elevator. My eyes widened, not expecting to see her here. She’s able to let herself in whenever, but usually she texts me ahead of time.

“I just stopped by to pick up your bottle of my favorite wine. I’m out, and I don’t want to drive to Jersey to pick up more,” She pouts, holding the bottle of wine at her side. I always keep her favorite wine here for her, as we try to have family dinners whenever Viktor and I are free at the same time.

I chuckle, “Of course, Mama.” I walk towards her and hug her. “I have a lot of work to do, be safe getting home. Love you,” I say as she walks towards the elevator, pressing the button to call it up here.

“Я люблю тебя, сынок,” She says in Russian and blows me a kiss. I catch it and stuff it in my chest pocket, patting the spot. She smiles and waves, walking into the now open elevator. I turn around, heading down the long hallway to my office.

Walking into my office, I head over to my built-in bar, pouring myself a glass of whiskey neat and sitting down at my desk. The second the alcohol hits my tongue, it’s like my brain shuts off. I love the burn of it traveling down my throat. Everything goes silent. A break from everything that’s going on.

I open my laptop, needing to send a few emails before I retire for the night, my anger still riding high, despite just talking to Mama.

Opening the camera app on my phone, fully expecting to see my room a mess, but all I see is her little body sitting in front of the window, looking out to the city.

Something inside of me breaks a little. The little feeling of a tear going through my heart. It’s like drowning in water as you try to push yourself to the surface. Never-ending. I want to take all her sadness away, replace it with happiness. I want to be the one that brings her that happiness.

I’ve never wanted to make someone happy, but I want to make her feel that. I want to make her feel comfortable, I want to lick away her tears and replace her fear with pleasure. These feelings are fucking weird, but I want to let them consume me.

I loosen my tie and unbutton my suit jacket and shirt, letting the cool air of the room hit my hot skin. I take my mask off and throw it on the table. I walk over to the bar again and pour myself a full glass of bourbon this time. I walk back over to my desk, taking a large sip and swallowing it slowly, the burn tingling my tongue.

My eyes shift back to my phone as Penelope stirs, eventually slumping to the ground. She shouldn’t be on the fucking ground. Fuck the emails, they can wait for morning.

Downing the rest of the bourbon, I slide my mask back on and walk into my bedroom. I shouldn’t care this much. I shouldn’t crave her company. She shouldn’t be able to plague my thoughts like this. The future terrifies me if she has this sort of effect on me after two days.

That thought alone terrifies me. I’m not made for love or commitment. But something about her softens me.

I take in her form on the ground, only now noticing what she’s wearing. My clothes. My heart pulls in my chest at the sight. A magnet that’s attracting me to her. An unchangeable force.

I kick off my shoes, walking over to the closet and replacing my pants with sweatpants, throwing all my dirty clothes into the wash, stopping when I see hers sitting in the washer.

Pulling them out, I notice they are still dry, which means they haven’t been cleaned. Why didn’t she just start it? Does she not know how to use a fucking washing machine? Annoyance claws at my chest with her laziness.

I throw mine in there, inserting the soap and starting it. I walk out shirtless, closing the door behind me.

I stand before her. I can’t sleep in my mask, but she can’t see my face. I’ll have to kill her if she does. My eyes travel over her body, lingering on her curves that are starting to show, even though it’s only been a few days with proper nutrition.

My nose twitches as I lean down to her. She smells familiar. I take a bigger whiff. She smells like me. My soaps.

I lean back to see the shower glass spotty from a recent shower. A smirk grows on my face at the thought of her showering in my bathroom. The water dripping down her naked body. I wonder what it would be like to lick every square inch of her incredibly soft skin. I pant under my mask. Just this once.

I stand up, walking over to the desk and setting my mask down. I never said I had to kill her immediately.

I walk back over and scoop her into my arms, her eyes fluttering open for a second and staring at me with her mossy eyes, searching my own. I wonder what she’s thinking. Is she scared? I hope she is.

I hope her pussy weeps of fear for me.

After a minute, she falls back asleep, and I carry her over to the bed, settling her under the blankets and tucking her in. I don’t close the curtains, loving the look of the city.

It never gets old living here. Some may see the same lights every night, but I see a different story in every flicker of light. There’s enough darkness in the world. I would know, I contribute to it. The lights that gather around the city help me see the beauty in the world. Everyone else is different in some way. Small or big, we’re all our own beings.

I walk into the bathroom, desperately needing a shower. Closing the door, but not all the way, just leaving a small crack open. Not bothering to turn the lights on either, wanting to see the city. I strip my clothes and get under the shower, turning the water on and groan as the hot water hits my tense skin, releasing all the built-up tension.

As I wash my hair, I let my mind wander to Penelope. I want to study her. What shape every freckle is, memorize every scar so I can kiss them every day. I want to imprint the feeling of her skin into my brain.