Chapter 2

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Slamming his hand over the alarm clock Dylan groans, his head pounding. Last night he had been to a party- hosted by a man he couldn't remember- to celebrate a deal he had made with another company. 

With a sigh, he slowly sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He looks over at the bedside table to see a glass of water accompanied by 2 pills of ibuprofen. Relieved, he grabs the pills and swallows it along with the glass of water. Once that's done, he waits until his pounding headache turns into a light throb. 

Dylan then gets out of bed and walks into his bathroom, the air smelling slightly of vomit, causing his nose to wrinkle up in disgust. Keeping the door open, he uses the toilet, washes his hands and jumps into the shower. It doesn't take long for him to finish.

Towel wrapped around his waist he brushes his teeth until his gums were sore. He didn't want to brush too gently and not get all of the stuff off his teeth. When he's done brushing his teeth, he takes off his towel and quickly dries himself off.

When every inch of him was dry he walks into his walk in closet and grimace at the clothes lying on the floor. I guess they got in here, he thinks as he notices that together, the clothes on the floor and on the hangers aren't his full wardrobe. Somebody must of stole some, he thinks with a shrug. Grabbing his only unwrinkled tux, he quickly puts it on, the fabric rubbing against his bare skin. Dylan doesn't believe in undergarments, which in his case would be boxers. They were too restricting and what if he wanted a quickie or a blow job. Not only pulling it through his pants but his boxers too...too much work. He could just pull down both his pants and boxer in one sweep but then he'd be exposed and lord knows he hates being exposed. Putting on his cuff links he walks towards the mirror and smiles at his reflection. His ear, length blond hair is a curly mess on top of his head but, in a way that makes him look sexy. His eyes are abnormally popping out because of the navy blue tux, that fitted well out lining his muscular frame. Winking at himself in the mirror, he turns off the light and walks out his room seeing that it's 8:00. 

He walks out his room and jogs down to the kitchen where a piece of toast lies on a paper plate. 

"Bon appetite," he mutters to himself, grabbing the piece of toast and taking a large bite out of it. 

Chewing on the dried toast he jogs outside, to see his driver, Jose holding open the door for him. Poor guy, he thinks. He's probably been waiting out here since 6 o'clock, which was the scheduled time they both set together. O well. Dylan slides into the back seat and Jose closes the door with a little more force then necessary, but Dylan doesn't comment on it. A few moments pass before the car starts moving and takes him to Reed's Gaming Company.

When he arrives at the front of his company, he doesn't wait for Jose to open the door for him, instead doing it himself and closing the door. He gives a nod to Jose who drives off but, not before sneaking an annoyed glare at Dylan. Chuckling, Dylan smiles as he walks into his building, immediately getting greetings from his employees, giving either a nod or dashing smile in reply. He makes his way to his private elevator and puts in his finger print scan, the elevator doors opening when it recognizes his finger print. As soon as he steps into the elevator and the elevator doors close, his face turns to stone. Reaching over to the panel, he presses the only button on there, which leads him to and from his office.

The elevator dings and with a sigh the elevator doors open directly to his office. Looking around he takes a brief scan of the room, seeing if anyone is there or if anything was out of place. All kinds of woman and even men try to come into his office on a daily basis but, have never actually came in, though after hearing how Sebastian's office was broken into a couple times, he couldn't help but get paranoid. Walking out the elevator, he places his black dress shoes on the hardwood floor and the elevator dings before they swiftly close behind him. Dylan walks into his desk and plops into his comfy leather chair that Sebastian bought him, when he was complaining about his back hurting for the millionth time. 

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