WARNING: MATURE VIEWERS ONLY
Contains Sexual Content | Violence | Inappropriate Language
Destiny Anderson, a 25-year-old woman living in a modest apartment in Savannah, GA, has faced her share of hardships. After losing her mother to cancer at 18, h...
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Lighting my cigarette, I stood in front of the weak, pathetic excuse of a man named Christopher Mathis—a man I once called a soldier, though now I regret even that. My guards discovered he'd been stealing my product without authorization and, worse, that he had killed two of my men who uncovered his betrayal. When they restrained him and called me to handle the matter, I knew this was personal.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, I flicked the cigarette at him, watching as he flinched and tried to dodge the burn. The distraction was enough for me to pull back my fist and slam it into his face. My knuckles cracked against his jaw, and a guttural yell escaped him. But I wasn't done. Punch after punch landed, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. His face became a swollen, disfigured mess, but I didn't stop until my anger began to subside.
Grabbing him by the shirt, I yanked him up so we were face to face. "DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH THIS?" I growled.
He tried to speak, but his mouth was a bloody ruin. Teeth were probably missing. Pathetic. I let out a cold laugh, releasing my grip and letting him collapse to the floor.
"Don't bother. I'm uninterested in your excuses." My tone was flat, and I turned my attention to the guards. With just a glance, they knew what to do. They hauled Christopher to his feet, dragging his limp body out of my office. The sounds of his muffled grunts and the heavy footsteps of my men echoed down the hallway.
As the door swung shut behind them, another familiar presence entered the room—Franklin Zhao.
"I'd hate to be that guy," Franklin quipped, pouring himself a drink without waiting for permission. He sat in one of the chairs across from my desk, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face.
I rolled my eyes, already annoyed. "Sometimes I wonder why we're even friends."
"Because we've been friends since the diaper days," he said, raising his glass with mock solemnity, "and because I'm undeniably charming."
"Yeah, whatever," I muttered, knocking back the drink I'd poured for myself. My mind wandered to Destiny—the way her lips curved when she smiled, the soft blush on her cheeks when I called her babe.
Franklin leaned back in his chair, observing me with amusement. "And what happened to you last night? You totally disappeared at Havana." He took a sip of his drink. "Not that it stopped me from having a great time—plenty of ladies fell for my irresistible charm."
"Something came up," I replied curtly, not in the mood to humor him. Franklin could be relentless when it came to poking into my personal life, and I wasn't about to entertain him.
"Mmhmm," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And where were you before you came in here?"
"That's none of your business, Frankie." My voice was clipped, and I poured myself another drink to keep from snapping.
