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The elevator stopped on the top floor, and relief washed over him as he opened the door to the penthouse loft. It wasn’t the house in Westchester, but it was a close second, a large, open space with exposed brick and a wall of glass overlooking the neighborhood. It was an appealing alternative when making the drive north was impractical, and he set his keys on the console table by the door and made his way to the fridge where he grabbed a beer.
He leaned against the counter for a couple minutes, savoring the quiet, then wandered over to the big windows. The city had fallen to night, the darkness illuminated by the lights of surrounding buildings. Traffic was a low hum punctuated by the occasional horn and a siren in the distance. People hurried across the streets below, making their way home from work or to whatever plans they had for the evening.
It should have felt strange to feel so alone in a city with so many people, but somewhere along the way loneliness had become a default setting. It was impossible to imagine filling his time with anyone but the men under his command, the few employees he kept on staff at the Foundation. He was beginning to wonder if he was even capable of forming attachments to anyone or if the violence and secrecy of his childhood had broken something fundamental inside him.
He set down his beer and pulled out his phone in disgust. He wasn’t usually contemplative. Reason was his touchtone, logic his northern star. He lived to strategize, to grow the criminal empire that was the best way to issue a big fuck you to his dead father. The best way to delegitimize the work his father had so carefully used as a front for his cowardice.
He flipped through the names in his phone, thinking about each woman as her name passed under his fingers. There was the redhead with beautiful breasts and a warm laugh, the lithe runway model who moved with the grace of an animal, the brunette with lush curves ripe for the nip of his teeth, the lick of his tongue.
He suddenly didn’t want any of them. Couldn’t see any of them in his mind’s eye.
Instead he saw a small but fiery girl, the deep burgundy of her hair like the fire he’d seen burning at her center. He saw the flash of her dark eyes, the straight line of her spine, the sway of her hips that made it too easy to know how she would move under him.
Or over him.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket with a grunt of annoyance and stalked across the room for his keys. It wasn’t a woman he needed but a good workout in the gym at headquarters, a sparring partner, something to remind him of his purpose.
Then maybe he’d be ready for a woman.
Preferably one who wasn't his enemy’s sister.
