Rhyle leaned back in his leather chair, the city lights casting long shadows across his office. The night had settled in, and with it, a sense of restlessness that he couldn't shake. His empire was secure, his rivals kept in check, yet something was missing—a thrill, perhaps, something to break the monotony of his carefully controlled life.
He glanced at the stack of reports on his desk, detailing every aspect of his business. Profits were up, territories secure, and yet the numbers, once exhilarating, now felt hollow. Rhyle’s world was one of power and dominance, but tonight, it felt like a cage.
With a sigh, he stood and moved to the window, looking out over the city he ruled from the shadows. His eyes scanned the streets below, teeming with life and energy—a world that felt distant, despite being just a few floors down.
“Sir,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Jaxon, his personal assistant and bodyguard, a man who knew Rhyle better than most. “You seem distracted.”
Rhyle turned, a faint smirk on his lips. “Is it that obvious?”
Jaxon stepped forward, his expression as unreadable as ever. “You’ve been staring out that window for the past hour. That’s not like you.”
Rhyle chuckled softly. Jaxon was one of the few who dared to speak to him so frankly, a privilege earned through years of loyalty and service. “I need something… different tonight. A change of pace.”
Jaxon nodded, understanding without the need for further explanation. “There’s a new bar that just opened downtown. It’s already becoming a popular spot. Might be worth checking out.”
Rhyle’s eyes flickered with interest. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
A short drive later, Rhyle found himself stepping into the bar. It was upscale, the kind of place that catered to the elite, yet with an air of mystery that intrigued him. The music was low, the lights dim, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and exclusive.
As he entered, heads turned—some in recognition, others in curiosity. Rhyle paid them no mind. His presence commanded attention wherever he went, but he wasn’t here for that. He was here for a distraction, something to chase away the boredom gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He moved through the crowd, observing the faces around him—some familiar, most not. It was then that Jaxon, ever vigilant, leaned in close. “Sir, you might be interested in this.”
Rhyle followed Jaxon’s gaze to a young man sitting alone at the bar. His tailored suit spoke of wealth, but his posture—slouched, weary—betrayed a different story. He was nursing a drink, eyes downcast, oblivious to the world around him.
“That’s Mick Williams,” Jaxon continued, his voice low. “Son of Richard Williams, the businessman. They say the old man’s as ruthless as they come.”
Rhyle’s interest was piqued. He knew of Richard Williams, of course—one of the few men who had ever dared to challenge him, albeit from the safety of his corporate stronghold. But Mick… Mick was a curiosity. The son of a powerful man, yet sitting here alone, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
A plan began to form in Rhyle’s mind. He hadn’t come here with any particular intention, but now that Mick was in his sights, the night had suddenly taken a turn.
“Let’s see what the boy’s made of,” Rhyle murmured, his smirk widening as he signaled to the bartender for a drink.
As he approached the bar, he could feel the energy in the room shift—a subtle change, the kind that happened when a predator entered the vicinity of its prey.
Mick didn’t notice at first, too lost in his thoughts, but when Rhyle sat down beside him, the young man’s head lifted, his gaze meeting Rhyle’s with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
Rhyle raised his glass in a mock toast. “Rough night?”
Mick hesitated, then nodded, his grip tightening around his own drink. “Something like that.”
Rhyle’s eyes never left Mick’s, reading the unspoken emotions flickering there—fear, loneliness, a desperate need to escape, if only for a moment.
“I’m Rhyle,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with the confidence of someone who expected it to be recognized.
“Mick,” came the quiet reply, though Rhyle noticed the hesitation, as if the name itself was a burden.
“I know,” Rhyle replied, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Let me buy you another drink, Mick. It looks like you could use it.”
Mick’s guard was up, but Rhyle could see the cracks—could see the part of him that was tempted, that wanted to forget whatever was haunting him. And Rhyle was more than willing to oblige, already envisioning how the rest of the night would unfold.
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Broken promises
Romans**Description:** Mick Williams, a boy blessed with both looks and talent, lives under the shadow of his father's disdain. Despite being adore by everyone for his kind heart and gentle nature, he is haunted by the guilt placed upon him by his father...
