❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
And when I placed the heavy object in his palm, the widowed High King of Endollon only nodded before he set out to hunt his Queen.
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THE BLOOMSBURY CLUB, GREAT RUSSELL STREET, LONDON.
ASPEN HILL
THE NOISY LONDON STREETS MELTED away behind the mahogany doors as I shut them behind me, plopping into a chair backed with velvet.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips as the blast of cool, pleasant air conditioned breeze hit my cheeks. Eyes closed, I sunk deeper into the cushions behind me. The dim, mellow lights of the Bloomsbury seemed to invite me farther in to sleep.
"Miss Hill?"
Eyes snapping open, I found the platinum haired bartender regarding me with big blue eyes.
"I'll have the usual, please. And make it strong."
She nodded as my damned cell phone beeped again from somewhere in the depths of my countless leather pockets, leaving me to pointedly ignore it. The other patrons turned their heads towards the continuous blaring.
"Shit - sorry," I cursed under my breath, fingers fumbling around to retrieve it. Sleep deprivation clearly won over in the end as the platinum hard case went tumbling down to the marble tiled floor.
Great, now I had the attention of every goddamn person in the fucking room.
Wordlessly, I bent down and grabbed hold of the stupid thing, turning it off to silent. If I went at this rate, the sheer pressure of work was going to split me in half before the weekend even rolled around.
As if, my thoughts taunted me. What weekend?
Weekends didn't exist. Not for the Hills.
A smug bastard looked at me from the corner of the room, dressed impeccably in an Armani suit that seemed to be the customary uniform of all the males on Russell street. He gave me a knowing smile, lips twitching. I noticed the faint golden stubble dusting his cheeks as he raised the glass of bourbon in his hand ever so slightly in acknowledgment.
I glared sullenly at him, lips twisting in the thinnest line possible, making the annoying smile on his face grow wider.
Men, for fuck's sake.
I put down my head, letting it rest on the cool counter for what I promised myself would only be a minute. The numbers reeling in my head begged for reprieve as I closed my eyes for a bit.
