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His balls need to go.
Since that’s against the law, I intend to find as many other ways as possible to cause him pain over the next year.
It may be the only thing that’ll get me through.
3
Jameson
Iscrapped my way to wealth.
Bill found me at an underground fight late one night when I was twenty. I worked as a mechanic during the day and fought at night, and I saved every last cent I could after giving my mother whatever money she needed to keep a roof over our family’s head and food on the table.
Bill ended up hiring me on his security team, but I kept fighting at night for another couple of years while slowly working my way up the ranks in his company.
I told myself I kept fighting for the cash.
The truth is it was in my veins.
I craved the adrenaline rush.
The violence.
The blood.
But most of all, I craved the victory.
The pure annihilation of my opponent.
I haven’t fought in over ten years, but I get what I still crave when I crush a rival in business.
When assholes come after me and throw down a challenge that requires me to show no mercy to win, it feeds my hunger.
Right now, my need is being fed in ways it never has with my business.
My biggest rival in the hotel industry is currently trying to tear me apart limb from fucking limb, so to speak.
Profits are taking a hit.
They have been for months.
And as much as I try to fix it, the problem persists.
The challenge remains.
Josiah, my executive in charge of this, calls again as I watch Adeline buckle herself in across from me on my private jet. He called on the way here, advising me that profits are down for a second month in a row. Another call so soon can’t be good news.
“Yes?” I answer the call, directing my attention away from Adeline. She’s wearing the tightest jeans I’ve ever come across on a woman, a tiny white T-shirt that clings to her breasts, and gold heels. She’s also wearing that perfume she loves that reaches straight for my dick. Between all that and her attitude, it’s an assault on my senses. If I had the time this morning, I’d invest in another jet and fly her to Rome on it while I take this one.
“Carlene just quit,” Josiah says, sounding like he’d rather be having a conversation with a lion than with me. I can’t blame him. I’m tense at the moment thanks to not only my business but also my marriage, and I’ve been taking it out on him.
“Fuck.” I exhale a long breath.
Carlene is the woman I hired two months ago to advise us on our hotel brand and how to fix our problems after our previous consultant caused me no end of headaches. I knew Carlene and I were butting heads, but I didn’t realize she was getting ready to walk.
“I’m going over the list of suitable replacements,” Josiah says. “I’ll have it to you by the time you land in Rome.”
“No, I’ll cancel Rome and head into the office instead. Meet me there in an hour.”
