Consumed: A Dark Stalker Age Gap Romance

Prologue

Dom

I glance at the fluffy white clouds visible from the window of my private jet. I've spent the past two weeks celebrating another year of life on my island in Belize with family and friends. The daily erotic escapades would make a porn star blush. Drinking, drugs, and orgies were in abundance. My narcotic of choice is warm, wet, and tight. I embrace being a perverted deviant. For the last few days, it's just been my companion and me. I needed to unwind before heading back to work.

At thirty-two years old, I'm the youngest self-made billionaire in the United States. Vacations, fast cars, endless women—I'm on top of the fucking world, living the high life in Los Angeles. What more could I ask for? I've been dubbed "The Forever Bachelor" by the media due to my very public playboy ways.

I come from humble beginnings, the second of three boys. My parents didn't have much. My father was a janitor and my mother was a housewife. Shit, they struggled to make ends meet, but our household never lacked love. They've been happily married for thirty-five years. I'm thrilled they've enjoyed marital bliss, but the thought of walking down the aisle doesn't appeal to me. I'll never be tied down by the ball and chain. I prefer variety, and there's no reason to limit my options.

I'm two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle, standing at six four. Throw in my amber eyes and dark blond hair, I'm a wet dream. But I'm more than just a handsome face and hot bod. At heart, I'm a computer geek who excelled in high school, which afforded me the opportunity to receive a partial scholarship to attend Princeton. My uncle, who passed a little over ten years ago, was the exact opposite of my father. Craig Stone was a go-getter who worked his way through college. Eventually, he became a major player on Wall Street, working as a financial advisor. Dad says I'm a replica of him, not just in looks, but in character and personality as well. My uncle and I were birds of a feather. Unfortunately, he and my father didn't get along. My good ole dad was too proud to accept monetary assistance from his younger brother, but if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be where I am today. At the time of his death, he didn't have a wife or kids, so his mini fortune was split between my brothers and me. Thus, Stone Incorporated was born; a successful multinational corporation based in Irvine, California. I'm in the business of creating servers, computers, and electronics. I'm a cocky, self-absorbed asshole, but hey, I have every right to be.

"We should go shopping when we get back home. Gucci's summer collection is to die for," Taylor says.

I turn my attention to my current fling. Taylor has the perfect ballerina body, golden hair bright as the sun, and crystal-clear blue eyes; she's absolutely gorgeous. The sex is phenomenal, but nonetheless, her time is up. It was good while it lasted. She's beginning to become clingy, and I can't have that. It'll lead to complications. She'll receive her walking papers once the jet lands at John Wayne Airport. I can't risk her having a tantrum while we're thousands of miles in the air.

"I'll see."

Her face frowns in dismay, but she quickly covers it up with a smile. "Okay, darling."

"Can I get you something else, sir?" Phoebe, the flight attendant, asks with a flirtatious glint in her eyes, causing Taylor to huff.

"Yes, I could use another scotch."

"My pleasure," she purrs.

Taylor dramatically clears her throat.

"Get me a bottle of water," she snaps condescendingly.

Phoebe pastes on a fake smile. "Of course."

She walks away, adding an extra sway to her hips.

"How dare she openly flirt with you as if I wasn't sitting next to you?" Taylor shrills in outrage. "The little whore! I demand you fire her!"

I glower, baring my teeth. Her eyes widen in alarm. She's never seen this side of me. I'm usually a charming, carefree guy, unless someone crosses the line.

"You presume to dictate how I handle my employee?" I ask in a low but deadly tone.

"I'm sorry." She licks her lips anxiously. "I didn't mean to imply—"

Suddenly the jet rattles violently, sending Phoebe sprawling to the floor.

"What's happening?" Taylor screeches.

The aircraft stabilizes, and I instantly go to Phoebe's aid.

"I think my arm is broken," she screams, her face twisting in agony.

Fuck, it's twisted at an odd angle.

The pilot's voice blasts through the cabin. "Please fasten your seat belts. We may experience more turbulence."

"I'll make sure an ambulance is waiting for you when we land." I help her stand and guide her to a seat.

I buckle Phoebe in and hurry to my seat, strapping in right before the jet takes a nosedive.

"We're crashing!" Taylor yells at the top of her lungs.

I push her head down into her lap. "Don't move!" I shout.

I brace for impact, knowing this could very well be my final day on earth.