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"You're going to get Onyx to do it."
"He loves massaging me."
"He's not around."
"You forget how Onyx works. He's always around, even though he acts like he isn't."
"True definition of a stalker."
"Agreed," I replied. "See you tomorrow, Viktor. Thanks for the alone time."
"You sensed this all along, didn't you?"
The elevator doors closed and I began the long ride to the 75th floor, which led right into the top-floor penthouse.
"Certainly," I replied and allowed my body to lean against the golden bar handle. "Why else would I want to walk home?"
"You seriously have mental issues."
"Nothing new." I shrugged as if he'd see it. "See you bright and early. Apparently, Papa wants me earlier tomorrow."
"Are we leaving earlier?"
"No."
"Then we'll be right on time."
"I love you." I laughed.
"Don't get too in love with me, Willow. I apparently break hearts."
"Can't break what's already broken, my sweet bodyguard," I hummed. "Night."
"Night."
He hung up and I slipped my phone back into my pocket as the elevator slowed to a stop.
The danger of always winning is being left unsatisfied. Maybe Onyx can fix that for me.
Wine, Chocolate, And A Good Fucking
The ding of my arrival was followed with the doors of the elevator opening up to reveal the black halls of my gorgeous, recently renovated penthouse suite. One of the glorious benefits of having a father with a big enough name was getting the perfect amount of space to match your rather exquisite hobbies, like home design for the uniquely different.
None of the present designs enlightened me. White walls, sophisticated, classy white furniture, the basic setup that every rich person had to meet their standards of royal luxury. I didn't have time for all that bull crap.
If I was going to be paying millions of dollars for a place to truly call home, it was going to bring me nothing but delight, right down to the color of the walls.
Matte black was my favorite when it came to interior design. It was a color that many played down upon, even though it was a solid foundation that could match any color.
Except brown, but rich people didn't go for the 'oak wood' look anymore. That was apparently too old-school in this time and age.
I slipped out of my shoes, placing them in the hidden shoe storage after knocking the button that pushed the hidden drawer out for my regular shoes. Most of my heels and branded items were in my walk-in closet.
I never played around with those items or anything that cost more than a thousand dollars. I may make money easily, but every expense beyond that limit was extremely valuable in my mind after years of being forced to rely on someone else for mere survival.
Heading down the hall, I tried to roll my shoulder out but hissed in pain.
"Stupid ambush shit," I muttered and paused when I heard a chuckle. That made me pout, even though my pussy had other plans and reminded me of its burning need to be abused by a thick cock.
