Page 5 of The Don's Forbidden Obsession

I wanted to laugh.

These ladies had no idea what excitement they could be in for with a man like me.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. "Well, tonight won't be lacking in excitement if we keep drinking.”

One of the girl’s fingers traced the rim of her glass, her eyes locking with mine with an intensity I didn’t quite expect. "Oh really? What did you have in mind?”

A mischievous grin spread on my lips. "How about a night we won't forget? Maybe something that involves the three of us.”

What the hell, I figured. The worst they could do was storm off, pissed at such a notion. If that happened, I’d just laugh and continue drinking.

No worse for wear.

“Careful what you wish for,” the other girl said. “We're not easily tamed."

I leaned back and smirked. “I think I might be up for the challenge.”

The flirtatious banter continued as the night wore on. We clinked glasses, sipped drinks, and let desire continue to stir.

I played the playboy, turning on the charm and spitting out cheesy pickup lines like a pro. It was all part of the game, a way to keep my mind off the guilt and heaviness that weighed me down. I was on the hunt for a night of passion, hoping it would drown out the memories and make me feel alive again.

But damn, the more I talked to these girls, the more I realized they were as empty as a pauper’s purse. It was like talking to mannequins, their minds stuck on fashion trends and celebrity gossip. I wasn’t sure I could go through with it.

Part of me needed something real; something with substance. But I knew I didn’t want that, either. Because that would mean getting attached, and if I’ve learned anything in my line of work, it’s that getting attached is not a good move.

I had to keep reminding myself that one-night stands were better.

Taking a swig of my drink, I tried to hide my frustration. I didn’t know what I expected. I wanted to add two notches, not choose a partner.

These encounters were starting to feel like a cheap band-aid, a temporary fix for a much deeper wound. I craved authenticity and connection, something that would truly make me forget about how fucked up my life was.

How fucked up this world was.

At that moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks. No amount of one-night stands or meaningless encounters could fill the void. I couldn't keep running from the consequences of my actions. It was time to face the music and confront the darkness that haunted me.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I excused myself from the mind-numbing conversation and bid the blonde bimbos farewell. They rolled their eyes but barely seemed to notice. I had no sooner reached the front door of the bar when I heard their intense laughter thunder out. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I saw they were already on to the next guy.

I shook my head, an exasperated laugh escaping.

Maybe I was only supposed to be a notch on their bedpost, too.

It was a neverending cycle of shallowness, and I was sick of it.

Day in and day out of meaningless sex and conversation.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I left the bar behind and walked the streets alone, the weight of my choices hanging over me like a dark cloud. It was time for a change. Maybe a redemption story. I needed something more meaningful — something that would make me feel alive —not a rush of adrenaline like in my everyday life. I wanted something to make me feel alive in a genuine way. It was time to find my path, one that didn't rely on empty encounters and fleeting pleasures.

One that wasn’t focused on screwing my way out of the guilt I felt in this line of work.

4

ANNABELLE

I draggedmy tired body back to work after managing to snag a measly four hours of sleep. I was still groggy as hell, but compared to before, I felt like the freakin' Energizer bunny. Coffee in hand, I plopped down on my uncomfortable desk chair. I felt like the stack of paperwork had gotten bigger since I left, and I’d already been drowning in a mountain of case files. I was working through those damn things like it was my second job, but it didn’t even look like I’d made a dent.

And then, Davis, my partner in crime, strolled in looking bright and shiny like a brand-spankin' new toy.

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