Jackson's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room's curtains. He groaned, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The previous night's events swirled in his mind, a hazy mix of champagne, laughter, and Natalia's intoxicating presence. He rolled over, half-expecting to find an empty bed. Instead, his eyes widened at the sight of Natalia sitting on the edge of the mattress, her bare back and the curve of her ass catching his full attention. "Good morning," he managed, his voice still gravelly with sleep. She turned, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to think I'd have to kiss you awake." "Damn, I should've kept my eyes closed a bit longer." "Missed opportunity," she teased, leaning back on her elbows. The sheet slipped lower, revealing more of her curves. His eyes wandered appreciatively before meeting her gaze. "How long have you been up?" "Oh, just a few minut
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh really? I thought I was special." She laughed. "Relax, I'm kidding. This weekend sounds perfect. Don't disappoint me, or I might have to start looking for those other men." "Challenge accepted," he grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. "I'll make sure it's a night you won't forget." "Alright, alright. I'll agree to this date of yours," she said playfully, with a hint of genuine interest. "But it better be good. I'm not easily impressed, you know." "Oh, I'm not worried. In fact, I'm sure you'll be begging for a second date before the night is over." "We'll see about that after the first date. No need to get ahead of ourselves." She glanced at her watch, then back at Jackson. "I should probably get your contact info. Got a business card?" His face fell slightly. "Ah, damn. I didn't bring any with me. I left them all in my other pants, the ones without champagne stains." "How about your phone then? I can just enter my numbe
Natalia blinked a few times as if coming out of a daze. "Well," she said, her voice husky. "That was... unexpected." "Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" "Hmm, not bad. For a guy who just woke up with morning breath." He grinned, his ego suitably stroked. "Not bad, huh? I'll take that as a compliment." "Don't let it go to your head," she retorted, but her flushed cheeks betrayed her. His hands still resting on her hips, he raised an eyebrow suggestively. "We could always continue where we left off last night. I'm sure your clients wouldn't mind waiting a little longer." She laughed, gently extricating herself from his grasp. "Nice try. But I'm afraid that ship has sailed... for now." She smoothed down her dress, which had ridden up during their impromptu make-out session. "You'll just have to wait until after our first date. Consider it motivation to make it spectacular." "Tease," he pouted, flopping back dramatically onto the bed. "Oh, p
Natalia closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the empty hallway. She took a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of Jackson's cologne that clung to her skin. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she remembered their passionate night together. She took a few steps down the hall, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Suddenly, she paused, glancing back at the door. A part of her itched to turn around, burst into the room, and jump Jackson's bones for one last romp before work. Her hand twitched, reaching for the doorknob. "No, no, no," she muttered, shaking her head. "You've got work to do." With a sigh of regret, she forced herself to keep walking. Still, she couldn't help but imagine what might have happened if Jackson had chased after her. She pictured him flinging open the door, his hair adorably mussed, eyes dark with desire as he pulled her into a searing kiss. She shook her head, trying to clear the tantalizing image from her mind. Then, a
Jackson's sleek car purred through the city streets, its glossy black exterior reflecting the neon lights of downtown. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: 7:55 PM. Perfect timing. He pulled up to the valet stand. The valet's eyes widened at the sight of Jackson's car, probably wondering if he should ask for a tip or an autograph. "Easy on the clutch, kid," Jackson said, tossing the keys. "She bites." The valet nodded, a mix of awe and nervousness on his face as he slid into the driver's seat. Jackson straightened his tie and strode into the restaurant, the scent of money and power hanging thick in the air. The maître d' approached, all smiles and obsequiousness. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?" "Jackson. Table for two." Recognition flashed in the man's eyes. "Ah, yes. Right this way, Mr. Jackson." He followed the maître d' through a sea of white tablecloths and crystal glasses. The restaurant hummed with the low murmur of important conversations and the cli
Jackson watched as Gabriella cut into her steak, the knife gliding effortlessly through the tender meat. She brought a small piece to her lips, closing her eyes as she savored the flavor. A soft moan of appreciation escaped her, sending a jolt of electricity through Jackson's body. "Divine," she murmured, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "You should try yours before it gets cold." He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth had become. "Right, of course." He cut into his steak and noticed Gabriella's eyes followed his movements. Her gaze lingered on his hands, then trailed up his arms to his broad shoulders. "You know," he teased softly, "if you keep looking at me like that, I might start to think you have ulterior motives." "Maybe I do. You might find out if you play your cards right." He chuckled, cutting another piece of steak. "Well, I'm always up for a game."They stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night air
Gabriella turned and began walking towards a sleek black sports car parked nearby. Jackson followed, admiring how her dress clung to her curves with every step. The valet handed Gabriella the keys without a word, clearly used to her commanding presence. He slipped into the passenger seat, the leather interior cool against his skin. She slid behind the wheel, her movements fluid and graceful. She started the engine with a roar, and they sped off into the night. He stole glances at Gabriella as they drove through the city. The way her hands gripped the steering wheel with confidence, the determined set of her jaw – everything about her exuded power and control. "So," he said after a few moments of silence, "how does someone like you end up in this line of work?" She laughed softly. "That's a long story. Let's just say I enjoy living on the edge." "I can see that," he replied, smirking. "And you do it very well." They approached a tall, modern building wit
When they reached the bottom, Gabriella led him through another hallway. The air was cooler here, almost sterile, like a vault. They walked past several nondescript doors before stopping in front of one that looked more reinforced than the others. She pressed her thumb against a biometric scanner next to the door. With a soft beep, the door unlocked and slid open with a hiss. As they stepped inside, motion-sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the room. His jaw dropped. The room was massive, with walls lined from floor to ceiling with every weapon imaginable. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, and knives were displayed meticulously on racks and shelves. Even more exotic weapons—crossbows, katanas, and grenades—were placed as if they were pieces in an art gallery. "Holy...," Jackson began but trailed off, unable to find the right words. Gabriella chuckled softly behind him. "Impressive, isn't it?" "Impressive doesn't even begin to cover it," he replied, still taki
Jackson took another sip of whiskey, savoring the burn. Sometimes, in the quiet moments between Quantum Quill's ridiculous tasks, he wondered if he was dreaming. Maybe he was stuck in some bizarre video game, or there was a glitch in the matrix. Any moment now, he half-expected to wake up in his old life, nine years in the past. The thought made him pause. What if he did wake up? Jackson's mind wandered, imagining the scenario playing out differently. What if he hadn't left the apartment that fateful day? What if he'd walked in on Veronica and that bastard, caught in the act? He pictured himself bursting through the bedroom door, rage coursing through his veins. There was a look of shock on Veronica's face, her legs still wrapped around the stranger's waist. The bastard's smug grin faded as Jackson's fist connected with his jaw. God, it would've felt good to knock that asshole's teeth out. Maybe grab that tacky baseball bat Veronica insisted on keeping by the bed - "for protection,
Jackson leaned against the polished mahogany bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. The ice clinked against the glass as he sipped, savoring the smoky flavor. Isabella sat across from him, her legs crossed elegantly as she sipped a brightly colored cocktail. "So," Jackson drawled, "where's your boyfriend? What was his name again? Mike? Mitch?" "Mark. And he's on his way." "Ah, right. Mark." He nodded sagely as if he'd known all along. "The elusive Mark. You know, I'm starting to think he might be imaginary." "Please. As if I'd need to make up a boyfriend." "I don't know," he teased. "Maybe you're just trying to make me jealous." "Oh, you wish." she flicked a cocktail napkin at him. "Trust me, Mark is very real. And very late, apparently." He glanced at his watch. "How long have you been waiting?" "Only about twenty minutes," she sighed. "He texted saying he got held up at work." "Ah, the old 'held up at work' excuse," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "Classic." Isabella smacked
Jackson reached for his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Gabriella's number. His thumb hovered over it for a moment, hesitation battling curiosity. "Fuck it," he decided, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it. The phone rang once, twice. On the third ring, Gabriella's sultry voice purred through the speaker. "Missing me already, handsome?" "You know, most people start with 'hello.'" "Most people are boring," she countered. "But I'm guessing you didn't call just to critique my phone etiquette. What's on your mind?" "Actually, I called to ask you something," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. "You wouldn't happen to know a guy named William, would you?" There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to kick Jackson's heart rate up a notch. "William?" she repeated, her voice suddenly neutral. "That's a pretty common name. You'll have to be more specific." "He's a pub owner. Tall guy, kinda looks like he co
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
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
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 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
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
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