His Revenge

Chapter 12 - Maddox

Maddox P.O.V

I softly groan, sorting through the seemingly never-ending pile of files and papers on my desk. Most were case documents, with the odd bill or random flyer mixed in. As business picked up over the past few weeks, the system I had to keep everything in place collapsed. And now this.

For fucks sake. I could be here all day and still wouldn't finish.

A slightly muffled beep sounds from underneath the stack to my right. I lift the papers, locating my phone, and check the message.

It's a video from Francesca. Leaning back in my seat, I quickly press play.

A large double-paned window with rain streaming down its surface appears on the screen. The bits of white brick around the edges don't give enough of a hint as to the location. Shrugging, I focus back on the video as the camera slowly zooms in on the dark clouds looming beyond the glass. And just as the video cuts, a white-tipped, slender, brown finger enters the frame, tracing the path of one tiny rivulet down the cool glass.

A text awaits me underneath the video.

Francesca: Remind you of anything??

It says.

A smile curls my lips as the memories of the night we'd met flood my mind. Much the same as now, it'd been pouring down raining. I'd been out drinking at the local bar not far from my place when I bumped into Patrick, an acquaintance of my friend Chance. Aside from that, I knew absolutely nothing about the guy.

But anyways, he'd introduced us, and we'd quickly hit it off. We'd spent most of the night drinking, dancing, and flirting before heading to my place. Halfway there, we'd succumbed to our desires in the stairway while lightning rumbled overhead, providing an ethereal beat to our frantic mating.

I shift in my seat, my cotton briefs becoming uncomfortable around my growing bulge, before finally replying.

Me: The night we met.

Francesca: mmm

A half-second later, another message comes through.

Francesca: Fuckk. Now I can't stop thinking about you.

Me: And that's a bad thing?

Francesca: Usually, no. But when I have a hospital full of patients to tend to...yes.

My head rolls on the headrest as laughter bursts past my lips before I reply.

Me: Maybe you should take a break.

Francesca: Why? You up for a recreation?

The thought hadn't honestly crossed my mind, but now that it was on the table, I sure as hell wouldn't refuse.

I'll take sex over sorting any day of the week.

I start to type out a response, but the silver frame on the right corner of my desk catches my eye. A young Scarlett stares back at me, grinning from cheek to cheek with her arm thrown across my shoulders and a half-eaten ice cream cone in hand.

We were only around fifteen in the photo, but I still remember every bit of that day as if it happened yesterday.

Things were different back then. Life was simpler.

Especially when it came to relationships and fucking dating. Now falling in love was a dangerous game where you hoped not to get burned. Or at least strong enough to survive the fallout.