Ecstasy

Spoiled

"Too much love never spoils children. Children become spoiled when we substitute presents for presence." 

- Excerpt by Anthony Witham

LORENZO WILLIAMS

"Well they need to calm the fuck down. It's not my problem is it?!" I shout out on the phone, slamming it down on the receiver.

Things aren't going wrong, well too badly that I have to fly out to Florida but things aren't going good.

Police are creeping onto Florida and people are getting very anxious and it's getting too much to handle. I might have to lay off assassinations in Florida until next month.

Last month was too close.

Someone knocks on the door. Great, is someone bothering me again?

Well, she doesn't bother me. Even though I know it probably isn't, I hope that it's Brielle behind the door.

"Come in," I say, smiling just in case it might be Bri and her angelic self.

When I see him, my smile instantly drops into a disgusted glare.

Sergei.

"You know I don't like your house at all," Sergei insults, giving his opinion which, last time I checked, I didn't fucking ask for.

"If you're going to complain about my house. You should just fucking leave. I don't want you here either," I grumble.

Looking back to papers that are causing my eyes to go cross-eyed. I thought I was going to have a break but I guess not.

He doesn't say anything but I don't like the look on his face. He looks like he's looking for something and I don't know what.

"What do you want?" I ask. I want him to leave so badly and go back to San Francisco.

"I'm looking for Brielle," he says, "I can't find her though."

My heart drops and my blood runs cold. I clench my jaw in anger because I don't want him near Brielle. He's going to taint my angel.

The snake in the fucking garden of Eden.

"You're not coming here to talk to her. Didn't I already tell you that I'll beat the shit out of you if you even touch her. I'm not joking around, Sergei," I threaten.

I did. I noticed that he's making Brielle feel uncomfortable staring at her while they were eating. So when she left for the bathroom, I told him to stop making her feel uncomfortable.

Mama didn't like me making a scene or causing unnecessary drama but I was because it's Sergei.

"I don't care," he says. I ball my hands in a fist. I'm this close to punching the living shit out of him.

"Why do you want Brielle anyway?" I ask. I'm genuinely curious. He better not have a little crush on her.

His 'crushes' are never healthy.

"I want her," he says, sitting down on the chair in front of my desk. He crosses his legs and interlocks his fingers on his knees.

Fucking business persona.

Wait, what?

I furrow my brows, asking, "What do you mean 'you want her'?"

He smirks at me. His mischievous smirk that he always fucking had ever since he was a little kid.