Revenge

Prologue [shall eventually be deleted];

I had never before been interested in working in some dingy office on the fifteenth floor but, when my father inconveniently decided it was time to drop dead, I had no choice but to work in what I would have considered hell.

In the entire room, there were only two windows - one of which was so badly placed that, no matter how or where you sat, the sun was still somehow in the way. Not even covering the poxy thing seemed to be enough to prevent the unwanted light brightening up the room on a daily basis.

The other window was so badly placed that, if you happened to be in the office at the wrong time, you got a rather pleasant view of some overweight old fool doing his daily exercise on his running machine; though I could save him the time by telling him he was never going to be the right side of 10 stone again.

I would have fired the assistant, had she not been twenty-five and an easy shag. I needed to get my sexual satisfaction from somewhere and she was only too willing to give it to me. I would have been stupid to fire the most decent looking thing in this place, though she was useless at her job and should have gone months ago.

She wasn't just sleeping with me though, she was sleeping with most of the males in this crappy place; even the ones that were close to death and on their last legs. I wasn't too fussy were women and relationships were concerned though, mostly because I had never been interested in being committed to just the one person.

I had women all over me whenever I went out for an evening and I wasn't ready to give that up just yet. In fact, I don't think I will ever be ready to give this life up for a life of committment with just the one woman for the rest of my life.

Sleeping with four or five different women a night was definitely my idea of heaven. I don't think there is anything more perfect than that, other than having my dream job as a successful businessman; but that was a dream which disappeared about the same time my father's life did.

I mean, I still got the money, power and spine chilling fear which came from inheriting my father's role. That wasn't the way in which I wanted to earn the title of Mr Rich and Powerful Playboy as the papers so often referred to me when they were making up some more lies about me.

See, the thing with people these days is that they believe every little thing they hear and every single thing they read.

The most true thing which has ever been printed about me in the papers is my age and monetary status, other than that, they have done nothing other than smother the public with exaggerated lies about the person that I happen to be.

Sure, I have kicked the crap out of people who dared to mess with me or my family, but I've never murdered anyo--

Oh wait. I did. They just didn't have the evidence to put me in prison after their key witness mysteriously disappeared overnight.

The police seem to think I had something to do wit--

Oh wait. I did. Turns out money can solve a lot of your problems, including a nosy employee who couldn't keep their mouth shut. He managed to escape with his life, on the proviso that he left the country and never returned; I didn't even allow him the luxury of saying goodbye to his family.

As far as they're concerned, he's dead. The papers reported that he was murdered by my gang of hooligans and that I then ordered the disposal of his body in the most unjust manner; they accused me of burning the body so that there was no physical way to identify him.

I wouldn't have been that sadistic. If I murder someone, then I leave them to be found and I use it to show people just how untouchable I actually am.

I wouldn't say I was a mobster, and neither would I say that I was an angry man.

I just like to let people know that they can't touch me and, should they be foolish enough to actually try, then they won't like the side of me which they have the misfortune of meeting and they will like the consequences even less.