Juliette
He warned me we were doomed from the start, and I should have listened. But some fires burn too hot to resist.
Now, I'm trapped in a vicious cycle of desire, tangled up in Areston's dangerous world. Every kiss, every touch pulls me deeper...
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"You feel invincible because you have never encountered a worthy adversary to challenge you, Areston."
"Are you sure you should say that to the man treating your wretched tastes with a vintage champagne that's roughly $2 million per bottle, Castillo?" I challenge him, my eyes trained on beautiful and almost anorexic strippers working their bodies enthusiastically on their poles with a smoothness like that of snakes gliding up a wall.
I miss my Belle.
My very own stripper and porn star with the face of an angel.
It has been five excruciating days without her.
How did I ever manage a decade without her? I would never know.
She's the thirst that quenches my soul. I have been feeling parched since she left me.
Against my better judgment, I took Ari's advice to give her the space until I couldn't this morning.
I followed her to her usual running track in Central Park, but it ended disastrously. Crying and yelling were involved.
She boiled with rage, gathered all the bouquets I had delivered to her car, waiting to pick her up, and threw them on the road.
Do you see that? That's how you crushed my heart. Flowers don't have a heart, but I did. You're not getting your forgiveness back until you feel as crushed as I do, she yelled at me, and Oliver drove her away.
My patience is wearing thin now.
What do I do to get her to forgive me?
"Maybe not, but I'm taking my chances," his mocking chuckle makes me turn towards him, and I catch the bastard seated opposite me leering at the young waitress who is at least 50 years younger than him.
She is barely dressed in any clothes except for the skimpy glittering piece that does minimum to cover her nipples and a thong. He rubs his thumb pad over the fabric of the waitress's bikini top, covering her nipple, and slides it down, exposing it, and she returns him a beaming smile that's surely an invite.
My mouth immediately curls with distaste.
Business dealings with privileged old white men at times can be excruciating, and this is one such time. This club, owned by a friend, holds a strict 'no-touch' policy, but everyone knows it's just for the sake of it. Men like Castillo do as they please, and women like her let them. Had she displayed a single emotion of discomfort, I would have intervened and rescued her, but she is not looking to be saved.
She has been trying to lure me since we arrived here, and after repeated failed attempts, she moved to another side of the pasture. Invitation and seduction flash boldly in her lifeless gray gaze, temptation evident in her smile.
This is what women do. They tempt men out of their sanity and take advantage of them when they have got them by the balls. I pity men who fall for them like the House of Cards. I pity me.
