Jackson leaned in closer, squinting at the photo as if it might reveal some hidden clue. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe Gabriella had bumped into them at some swanky party and... "Admiring me in photos while I'm sleeping? How naughty of you, Jackson." The sultry voice behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. He spun around to find Gabriella leaning against the doorframe. She wore a silky robe that barely covered her thighs, and her tousled hair framed her face in a way that made her look adorable and irresistible. "I, uh... I didn't want to disturb you," he stammered, his eyes involuntarily dropping to the cleavage visible through the loosely tied robe. She smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She sauntered towards him, her hips swaying hypnotically. The movement caused her breasts to jiggle enticingly beneath the thin fabric, and Jackson found himself mesmerized. "Well, you're disturbing me now," she purred, closing the distance between them. "But I can't sa
Gabriella took another sip of her coffee. "But darling, I'm curious. Why are you asking about all this? You seem awfully interested in ancient history." He realized that he might have revealed more than he intended. "I, uh... well, you see..." He fumbled for words, trying to find a way to explain without giving away too much. "Let's just say Veronica destroyed my life back then." She raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "She was always after luxury gifts and expensive clothes. Maybe she hooked up with that guy just to have an excuse to break up with me." He shrugged. "After that, I never saw her again... until that party the other night." "She's an ancient history. Like the dinosaurs you joked about earlier. Why don't we focus on more... current affairs?" "I'm not thinking much about her," he said huskily. "Just caught me off guard seeing her at the party." "Mmm, I bet it did," Gabriella purred, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.
Gabriella watched him with predatory interest as he quickly stripped out of his clothes. Each discarded piece revealed more of his toned physique, which had her licking her lips in anticipation. "Look at you," she teased, her hand reaching out to stroke his burgeoning erection. "Like a goddamn Greek statue." His cock twitched in her palm as she wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the heft and heat of him. "Bet this thing's getting named after Aphrodite," she remarked with a wicked grin. "Just waiting for Aphrodite herself to worship it," he shot back. She laughed, lunging forward to plant a quick, hungry kiss on his lips. Then she turned, sashaying over to the couch with a deliberately exaggerated hips sway. "Come on, Greek god," she called over her shoulder, her voice leaving no room for argument. He followed obediently, equal parts amused and aroused. She nearly pounced on the couch, reaching into the drawer of the end table to retrieve a con
They collapsed together in a tangled heap of limbs and sweat, panting heavily as they came down from their shared high. Jackson's heart raced, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Gabriella lay sprawled across him, her hair a wild mess, tickling his nose. "Well," she said, her voice muffled against his chest, "I'd say that was a successful morning workout." "Beats the hell out of jogging." "Mmm, agreed," she purred, tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Though I might need a nap now." "Already? I thought you arms dealers were supposed to have stamina," he teased. She lifted her head, fixing him with a mock glare. "Careful, darling. I might just have to prove you wrong." "Is that a threat or a promise?" "Why not both?" She grinned wickedly, then grimaced as she shifted. "Oof. I think my leg's asleep." "Sexy." "Oh, shut up," she grumbled, smacking his chest playfully. She attempted to untangle herself but only managed to elbow him in the ribs and knee him in a rath
Victor stood on the first tee of his private golf course, squinting against the morning sun. He gripped his driver, the weight familiar in his hands. The fairway stretched out before him, a lush green carpet inviting him to forget the stresses of his criminal empire, if only for a few hours. "Alright, you little white bastard," he muttered to the golf ball, "let's see if you cooperate today." He took a practice swing, his muscles remembering the motion. Victor had always found golf to be a peculiar sport for a man in his line of work. There was something almost comical about a feared crime boss fussing over a tiny white ball. He lined up his shot, took a deep breath, and swung. The satisfying crack of the club meeting the ball echoed across the course. Victor watched the ball soar through the air, arcing gracefully and then veering sharply to the left, disappearing into a cluster of trees. "Son of a," he bit off the curse, reminding himself that this was supposed to be relaxing. H
The convoy of black SUVs rolled through the city streets like a funeral procession, if funeral processions were led by pissed-off crime bosses with a vengeance on their minds. Victor sat in the back of the lead vehicle, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on his knee. They pulled up to Marco's office building, a gleaming glass and steel monstrosity. Victor scoffed. "Looks like our boy's been living large on our dime." The moment Victor's polished shoes hit the pavement, he was all business. He straightened his tie and marched towards the entrance, flanked by Tony and six of his most trusted men. They looked like a pack of well-dressed wolves closing in on their prey. But their path was suddenly blocked by a burly security guard with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. "Hold it right there," he growled, holding up a meaty palm. "I know who you are, and you're not welcome here." Victor raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Not welcome? I th
Victor grabbed a smaller piece off a nearby pedestal - some twisted metal thing that was supposed to represent... well, who knew what - and swung it like a baseball bat. It connected with the guard's head with a dull thunk, and the man crumpled to the floor. The larger guard was back on his feet and looked murderous. He pulled out a knife, its blade glinting in the overhead lights. "Really?" Victor scoffed. "A knife to a... whatever this is fight?" He waggled the metal sculpture. "That hardly seems fair." The guard lunged, slashing wildly. Victor danced back, his movements fluid and practiced. He'd been in enough fights to know that anger made people sloppy. Sure enough, the guard overextended on his next swing. Victor seized the opportunity, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting hard. The knife fell from nerveless fingers. Victor followed up with a swift knee to the solar plexus, driving the air from the guard's lungs. As the man doubled over, gasping, Vict
Jackson pulled into the parking lot, still feeling the afterglow of his encounter with Gabriella. As he stepped out of the car, he winced, his body reminding him of their vigorous activities. "Note to self: stretching is important," he muttered, rubbing his lower back. He went to the elevator, grateful for the privacy, as he tried to smooth out his rumpled clothes and tame his hair. The last thing he needed was to run into one of his nosy neighbors, looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward. As the elevator doors opened on his floor, Jackson fished his keys out of his pocket, fumbling with them as he approached his door. He paused, listening for any signs of unexpected visitors or mysterious voices in his head. Hearing nothing but blessed silence, he let out a relieved sigh and stepped inside. The cool air of his penthouse hit him like a refreshing wave, and Jackson kicked off his shoes, not bothering to line them up neatly. He shuffled towards the kitchen, his legs