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She’s putting on a seductive baby voice.
“Really.”
And then I turn and walk away. I’m not wasting my time here.
Not when there’s other girls on my mind.
I don’t even careabout the amazing view from the hotel over Central Park, but I should: my suite has the best view in the entire building, but I shut the window as soon as I’m in here.
And I pour myself a large glass of whiskey from the private bar.
This suite is undoubtedly among the most luxurious in the entire city, yet my regard for its material status remains totally unaffected.
And it’s because I don’t care for any of this. Not the fancy hotel, not the supermodel purring for a night with me, not the killer view.
Tomorrow I’ll fly from New York back to Crystal River. I don’t want to spend a minute more in this city than I have to. I just want to be home.
I cheer myself in the mirror, lonely holding up the glass of whiskey to my reflection. Sometimes I can’t even recognize the man I’ve become when I look into a mirror. ThebeastI’ve become. There was a time when I was an innocent boy, completely naïve about the world, but my years in New York City utterly transformed me like a man would turn into a werewolf in those stories our father would tell my brothers when we were boys.
The power struggles that have scarred me, both physically and mentally. The battles for influence, the journey to construct my empire from scratch, starting from the very streets themselves.
Since then, I’ve established a legitimate enterprise as a cover for my less reputable undertakings—a sprawling alcohol empire that has asserted its dominion on a global scale, with a brewery I purposely built in my hometown.
Even though I come from a billionaire family, I’ve never relied on my father’s money to survive ever since the day I saw the man I loved most in the world get gunned down in front of me. That day was the catalyst that made me come here to this city in the first place.
That day made me realize I have to rely –whollydepend- on myself, and only myself, to get through the cruel world.
I place the empty whiskey tumbler down on the table and pull out my knife from inside my jacket. The same knife I held to the throat of that stupid thug on the street corner. It’s my most precious possession. I keep it with me at all times. It has never let me down.
It’s a sleek, blackened blade. Its handle fits perfectly in my hand. Engraved along the blade is the nameJoshua Hall, after my godfather. It is razor-sharp, high-quality stainless steel. Discreet and dangerous. The perfect weapon for a killer who prefers to eschew guns and instead gets up close and personal with his enemies.
I strip down and run myself a shower in the suite’s expansive restroom. I take a moment to look down at my body and run my eyes over my many tattoos. I have inked quite a collection into my skin over the years. Black markings of a dark history. They are memories I have wanted to keep on my skin as a permanent reminder of where I’ve come from. Words I’ve wanted to etch into my flesh...
As I stand under the hot water of the shower, I allow my emotions to wash over me like a waterfall of pain.
I close my eyes and simply let myself, for once,feel.
In my everyday existence, I maintain a stoic facade. However, in these private moments, I grant myself the space to genuinely confront my deepest emotions - even if it’s just for the briefest of moments.
And I feel so very alone.
And, standing here in the shower, my thoughts instinctively turn to Ava Matson. I don’t know why.
Offering her to be my mistress was very much aspur-of-the-momentkind of thing. It was the only strategy I could think of to get her close to me. Somehow, Iwanther close to me, no matter how convoluted it might be.
Maybe I’m becoming obsessed.
For fuck’s sake, Damon. That’s the very last thing you need.
The intensity of my fixation on the girl with mixed-color eyes scares me.
Nevertheless, my dick is hard. Under the heat of the shower, I start to stroke my thick member, thinking of that girl from my hometown. Thinking of her plump lips. Of the way she looked at me with that fire in her eyes. How she bravely called out my name in my office.
How she fucking rejected me with all that sass.
Me.
Such spunk. That’s a girl I would like to know, no matter how.
