Page 56 of Bona Fide

? I’d Rather See Your Stars Explode — Slaves ?

This fuckingwoman is going to kill me.

Fuck what I said before about being the life of me, making me feel happier and a tad more excited for the future—I’ll be dead before then.

I knew she would be here, didn’t think I’d find her up though. It’s gotten so bad that I snuck into my own penthouse to see if I could wake her up just to talk. The New Year’s kiss thing didn’t enter my brain until I saw her standing barefoot in my place. How beautiful she looked against the skyline of the city.

That, and I can’t get my head to stop spiraling out of control.

I have Phoebe downstairs in her own suite so that I can keep an eye on her and out of the clutches of my wife. She has day and night security and, under my orders, she goes nowhere without them.

But she’s having a hard time, relapsing from the pills. So I’ve hired a doctor to help her.

However, I needed an outlet tonight, something to look forward to for the new year. And this shit is literally the dumbest and most reckless thing I’ve done yet.

I knew Em was going to have a bunch of females here, was fully aware I could’ve picked the wrong room, the wrong woman, several things could have gone wrong here, and I still did it.

I’m still doing it.

I can’t let shit go, and it’s eating at me. That I’m so weak for this woman, how in the hell am I supposed to run a country if one human being weakens me down to the point of consumed thoughts, fears, and the unknown?

That’s what life is, isn’t it? The normal day-to-day.

But when life without Reagan and her being with some other man in the future seeps into my brain cells, it devours me.

Like what she’s doing to me right now, stroking my cock with nimble fingers, making the inner animal in me come out to play.

The dark piece of me that was formed during Demi’s disintegration of my life. I fucked everything with a pussy and a pulse to rid my wife from my mind. To hurt her in some way but knew I’d never touch a feeling within her in the long run.

Demi was too busy fucking my father and half of the models that flew in from New York just to get their hands on the cheaper drugs and pills. I was busy drinking myself into a hole that I never wanted to come out of.

She didn’t care, so why the fuck should I?

She aborted our baby, told me she was fucking my dad, I caught her in our bed with two dudes taking turns on her. She got both of my sisters addicted to pills and drugs and was the cause of killing my younger sister.

At that point in my life, I was past the definition of done—with my career, my life, my dreams, and especially with her.

But Reagan was the light that flickers in my chest, challenging me to rise up from the bullshit and stand up for my life. Though, I can’t say that I blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.

Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do in this current predicament, again, if the tables were turned.

With the way things are going now, I’d probably book us a flight to a deserted island so we could disappear from the world. The selfish tendencies in me will never fade, I can curb them, but I’m a fucking politician—all we want is more.

More power.

More to reign over.

More to own.

And I want all of that with this alpha female who will fight me ‘till her dying day, and that’s all I want. Fights, arguments, laughing, and love.

Yeah...I want that last word with her.

If I was being honest with myself, I want to marry this woman. My actions speak louder than words, after all, and I can’t seem to keep a straight thought without it involving her—against, under, or next to me for the rest of my life.

“So I have to take it out,” Reagan conveys. “And then, I get to...choose what happens next?”

I nod, digging my fingertips into the palms of my hands because I want to rip her black tank top off and shove my cock in her mouth for tormenting me on purpose right now.

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