Consumed: A Dark Stalker Age Gap Romance

Chapter 2

Dom

"Are you even listing to me?" Jensen asks.

I glance up from studying last quarter's earnings on the computer screen to glare at my big brother. "No."

He came barging into my office less than five minutes after I arrived and planted his ass in the plush leather chair in front of my desk.

"Sarah and I really want you to come over for dinner. It's been ages."

Jensen and Sarah met in college, and the rest is history. They're now at child number four. Three girls and a boy. They're probably done creating offspring since Jensen finally has the son he's coveted.

"You sure that's the best idea? Oliver screamed his head off the last time."

"Come on. That was nearly two years ago, and he was just a toddler. He would've gotten used to your appearance if you came around more."

My nephew had good reason to fear me. I sustained fourth-degree burns on the right side of my face from my temple to my neck. I'm so fucking grotesque, I can't stand to look at my own reflection. Mirrors are strictly prohibited in my residence.

I'll never forget the pain of my skin melting from the flames. Fortunately, I was able to undo my seat belt and drag myself from the wreckage. At that point, adrenaline kicked in and the pain was minimized. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I suffered a punctured liver, fractured leg, and several broken ribs. Sheet grafts were used to cover the burns, but the damage was too severe to help much. The pilot and Taylor died instantly. Phoebe was placed in a medically induced coma but later succumbed to her injuries.

Being the sole survivor plagues me with guilt to this day. What makes me so special? Why did I survive? It took months to recover, but I didn't return to the office for two years. The official investigation concluded the crash was caused due to pilot error.

"Don't you have to get to work?" I ask.

"My schedule is open until ten, and anyway, I always have time for my baby brother," Jensen replies.

"Well, mine isn't, so if you don't mind." I pointedly look from him to the door.

"How long do you plan on living this way?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, reclining in my executive chair.

"You've alienated yourself from your family."

"I'm busy running a billion-dollar company."

The immense office attests to my advanced wealth. Behind my Astoria Grand desk is a spectacular view of the skyline. Several-thousand-dollar paintings by artists who met their end long ago line the walls. A bar stocked with expensive liquor is to my left, and next to it is a door leading to a spacious studio apartment. During deadlines that require long nights, I sleep there instead of home. It has all the luxurious amenities someone of my station expects—a king-sized bed, a kitchenette featuring top-brand appliances, an Italian leather sofa situated in front of a coffee table and Persian rug, a flat-screen television mounted to the wall, a dinette set, two closets, and a bathroom.

"That's complete bullshit. Mom and Dad are worried about you. We all are."

"I can take care of myself."

"It's been six years."

"But it feels like it was yesterday," I snap. "What the fuck do you want from me, Jensen?"

"I want my brother back."

"The brother you knew died in the crash."

"No, he became bitter after he caught his fiancée fucking his best friend."