The very moment I set my eyes on her was the first time I was truly breathing. She awakened something deep inside me that had longed been dead. She ignited desires that had long been buried. Yearnings that I didn't want to feel anymore. What she mad...
IF I KNEW what I know now. I would have never crossed path with her.
I was a man living in my own sin. She was a woman trying to escape her past.
At first I didn't understand what she meant.
I didn't believe her. I was already broken beyond mending. Damaged beyond my own
helping. My own fixing.
Somewhere between secrets and lust, I found a haven.
Somewhere between hate and passion, I lost myself.
Somewhere between the fine line of pain and pleasure, I came alive.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
GRINDING MY TEETH, I gripped the banister so tight that the ring pinching the flesh of my fingers, overlooking the view of the Paris Metropolitan area from the hills of the secluded villa. I inhaled sharply, taking in the fresh breeze of the evening.
"Christ James. You're getting too old for this." Donovan spoke, landing his hand over my shoulders as a sign endearment.
"Worrying yourself like that." He stated as he stood beside me and leaned in against the staircase while he balanced his glass of vodka on top of it. I ignored him as I overlooked the sights of boats from the distance, admiring the mixture of modernity with the old world decadence.
"You've obviously never experience the death of a lover." I stated, glaring at him from the corner of my eyes.
"Actually, I have." He replied as he stood beside me, balancing his glass off whiskey on the banister.
"Dimitri didn't send you here to lecture me did you?" I asked, my sight fixed on the waters. He breathe heavily and responded, "No he didn't."
"Good. I'm too old to be lectured." I was twenty nine for god sake.
"But he's worried about you, James."
I snickered, "Worried. That man isn't worried about anything other than himself. He's selfish, Don." I held on the railing as irritation pumped through me. I hated speaking about my father and Donovan knew that too. But he just had to bring him up. Again. My father and I haven't spoken to each other in four years. The only time we do speak is at office and even then, we avoided each other at all cost.
"Give him some credit. I know he hasn't the best father." He replied.
I glared at him after his bold statement, "Credit. I'll give credit where it is due. So far he has none. No fucking credit." I replied, swinging the last remainder of the whiskey at the back of my throat, savoring the burn.
