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From the moment I walk through the door, the heady scent of her perfume permeates the air. I clench my teeth and toss my keys on the credenza along the wall.
My penthouse is located on West King Street in the Primark Tower. One of the most affluent neighborhoods and buildings in the entire city standing at seventy floors high, the piece of real estate is owned by my father. It’s a space I’ve been given free reign over, which means the entire building is devoted to my use as I see fit.
Windows make up the majority of my wall space, affording me an almost 360 degree view of the city from the seventieth floor on which I live.
I keep my penthouse as neat and minimalist as possible. All-white color scheme with touches of black. Sleek, modern furniture and the vast open space that only makes my place seem five times larger than it already is. Considering it’s eight thousand square feet, that’s a bold yet entirely accurate statement.
Dusk reflects in the sky. The dying natural light pours into the many windows as the sun glows a golden hue and then sinks minute by minute.
I cross the wide open space, letting my designer oxfords thud against the obsidian flooring. I want Celeste to know I’m home. I want her tohear meapproaching.
She’s in the bathroom, soaking in the tub. The air stinks of her perfume mixed with artificial vanilla and caramel, or whatever frivolous bath bomb type product she’s used.
Candles flicker, perched on top of the nook in the shower wall; candles I’ve never seen a day in my life. That she must’ve purchased and brought along just for her fantasy of a spa-like evening in my penthouse.
Her eyes flit to mine in the doorway, and she smirks. “Evening, baby. I knew you’d be tense and worked up from a day in the operating room, so I ran us a nice, hot bath. Get in.”
“Get out. Now.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss,” she purrs, sitting up in the tub. No longer is she disguised by the suds. Her bare breasts and the rest of her naked torso are on display as if to entice me.
Letting me know she’s right here if I so choose to have her.
I push my hands into my trouser pockets and give a dry blink. “Celeste, I’d be more attracted if you put thingsonrather than take themoff. Including a burlap sack over your head.”
She scowls. “You are such a jerk.”
“Thank you.”
“Here I am, trying to be sexy and romantic. My love goes unappreciated,” she sighs, grabbing a loofah I’ve also never seen before, and soaping up her chest area.
“There is no love between us. Nothing sexy or romantic. Only hate and hate fucking. Get it through your drug-addled brain.”
Her bottom lip pokes out. “You won’t even give me a chance.”
“You’re high. I can see the fresh track marks on your arms. Get the hell out of my bathtub. I’ll need to disinfect it now. I have no clue where you’ve been or who you’ve fucked. You likely don’t either.”
She splashes water at me, making a mess on the floor. “You’re going to let me leave with nothing? I’ll blow you.”
“The idea of your lips on my cock makes me nauseous, Celeste.”
“I’ll let you fuck my ass.”
“The answer is no. You have sixty seconds.”
“Have you killed her yet?” she asks in an airy tone, running a soapy hand along her arm. Her blood-red talon nails drag across her skin in a slow motion I’m sure she believes is erotic and enticing. “I heard about your assignment. The Owner himself asked you. He wants her dead.”
“I wantyoudead. Forty-two seconds.”
“You haven’t killed in so long. Is that your way of flirting with me? Mmm, I’m into it.”
“Thirty.”
“Why haven’t you?” she asks, rising up from the bathtub to step out. She stands before me without making an attempt to reach for a towel.
Part of me is grateful. I do not want her talons touching my linens.
“I will eliminate her when I am ready to do so. You have less than twenty seconds, or you will be the one I eliminate.”
