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I hear the loud sounds of the waves crashing on the shore as I walk along the beach attempting to clear my thoughts. Eight weeks to finish a manuscript which has taken me six months to write. The big fucking problem is that it was written when I was as high as a kite. The days when I barely slept, when I remained isolated in my apartment with the blinds closed, deep within the darkness, just my thoughts and me.
But I haven’t touched that shit in such a long time.
Not since I discovered Charlie is a far better addiction.
Only, without Charlie, I have no inspiration, which leaves me with only one option—back to watching.
She’d be so fucking proud of you if she knew what you were writing, and that makes this all okay. Right? Charlie has a heart, the biggest heart I know. It’s such a damn shame she wastes its efforts on scum like Edwards.
Eyes on the prize. Once this is done and published, maybe Charlie will realize what she has been missing all along—a man who genuinely loves her and only her. A man who will move heaven and earth and give her everything she deserves.
I close my eyes wanting to see Charlie’s face, but the image of Chelsea’s dead body flashes through my mind instead, causing my heart to temporarily stop. I clutch at my chest, pain soaring through me.
What the hell was that?
The demons are returning, the same ones that have trapped me for all these years. The same ones that linger amongst the shadows and torture me with their ghostly presence.
I need an escape now, anything to take away the pain.
The demons taunt me, their eyes thirsty for the white-laced acid.
Fucking run. Now.
I race back to my car, knowing I have to use all my strength to distract myself. The only healthy thing I can do right now is head back to my office and throw myself into work. I just need to get through today. Survive.
Distract yourself with work, I repeat in my head.
My workplace has become a home away from home. The building is located in downtown LA and is fairly new. Like any newsroom, the atmosphere is constant chaos. Employees are running around like turkeys a week before Thanksgiving, others sitting behind their partitions talking loudly on the phone. The sound of keyboards clicking at record speed echoes throughout the office, the desperate task of trying to hit that sought-after deadline.
I walk into the main foyer to be greeted by our receptionist, Nyree. She is new to our office, and I’ve barely had a chance to talk with her. Our phones ring off the hook, and she’s constantly busy. Today, she’s sitting quietly at her computer typing away.
“Good morning, Mr. Baker,” she cheerfully greets.
“Nyree, call me Julian, please,” I scold playfully.
“Sorry, Julian,” she enunciates. “I’ve got a ton of messages for you. You may just be the most wanted man right now.”
“That depends by whom…” My eyes dance as I watch her, waiting for her flirtatious reaction to my comment.
Nyree is an incredibly beautiful woman, tall and slender with the perfect number of curves in all the right places. Her piercing blue eyes and unruly blonde hair stand out. She lets out a wide grin, handing me the messages. Our fingers touch for a moment.
Hmm, wouldn’t she be a nice girl to fuck? Okay, seriously, don’t mix business with pleasure, but all my dick can think about right now is pleasure. This is what happens when your nephew moves in with you, and you have no private time to jerk off. I give her a wink and head to my office, trying to hide the bulge in my pants which needs relieving.
With a mountain of work done, the day goes by fairly quickly, and before I know it, the clock reads five-thirty. The office starts to clear out when my phone rings—it’s Nyree.
“Miss Parkins, staying late? Quite the productive employee,” I tease.
“I have someone here to see you,” she politely answers.
Fuck, I wish it was a booty call. Seriously, Julian, go to the fucking restroom and jerk off now.
&
nbsp; “Sure, who is it?”
“He’d prefer to see you…”
Huh, odd. “Okay, send him in.”
