Page 35 of Bastian

Only one person that I could think of would think to expose my past ‘relationships’, and that is a woman scorned. Smiling like a fucking lunatic, I shove my phone back inside my pocket.

Give me all you got, darling.

Your war, your pain, fuck, give it all to me.

“We’re here, sir.” Nix, one of my guards tonight, says from behind the wheel.

Nodding, I wait for the car door to open, and once they do, I get out with a new purpose thrumming in my veins.

Shouts sound in the far corners of the building where the charity gala for the non-profit organization, Purple Hearts, helps support our troops and veterans who are struggling with the aftereffects of their duties overseas after returning from war.

This was one of my father’s missions.

To help soldiers who weren’t as lucky as him.

Help his brothers and sisters.

Purple hearts troops get all the help they need. Not just economically, but mental health support as well. Those men and women fight for this country. It’s only right that we take care of them once they return home and the help given to our troops was not enough in my book.

I might be a heartless bastard, but I will always support what my father stood for in life even now that he’s gone.

He believed in helping the ones that aren’t able to do it on their own. The ones who sacrificed themselves for their country and their people.

So, tonight we are raising money through the auction of valuable art and it’ll all go to the care of our troops.

It is only fair that the rich scum of this country help the ones in need, even if they do it for selfish and self-centered reasons.

Saluting the crowd of paparazzi gathering outside, I smile for the cameras before heading towards the building’s entrance. And all the way I think to myself how something has shifted, not only inside of me but all around me.

I feel it.

Her.

A storm is coming.

I feel it.

Somehow, I feel…her.

* * *

After making my rounds greeting everyone who’s anyone in my circle, from businessmen and businesswomen to colleagues and political rivals, I find myself being escorted by my security team, led by Banning, who arrived earlier to secure the building and make sure no one got in without a security clearance from them—towards the stage where I am to make the welcome speech.

I used to eat up all the attention these events used to gather, but not anymore. After a while, it all became painfully monotonous and downright dreadful.

The Vice President says a few words before it is my turn to take the stage. Adjusting my bow tie, I move forward while my men surround me in a wall of protection. Some are even dressed as normal guests lost in the crowd of people while others are hidden, in dark corners waiting to shoot the first motherfucker who tries something.

I am not risking it.

Ever.

I am not risking her.

The moment I step into the center and am handed a microphone, the blinding lights are in my face. Clearing my throat, I smile at the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel forced and doesn’t pain me. “I want to start by thanking everyone for taking time out of your busy schedules and joining me tonight to not only support the brave men and women of this country who risked their lives every day to keep this country safe from our enemies but to also celebrate the troops currently fighting for our freedom overseas. We are celebrating their courage and selfless act.” The crowd claps in agreement, and at the same time, the cameras flash faster.

They love this shit.

I might be a selfish prick and do more bad than good, but this is where I act like the man my parents wanted me to be. Even the biggest piece of shit on the planet can agree that our troops deserve better. Fuck, every soldier deserves more than what they get. Soldiers everywhere, not just ours.

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