AlexanderThe memory of that humiliation, the image of her distress, stoked the fires of my anger to an inferno. I was resolved, unwavering in my determination to make the offender pay the most grievous of prices for his insolence.I could still remember his face clearly. The one who had ripped off her clothes and had violated her most disgustingly.I could still picture how they spread her open on stage, her puffy wet pussy glistening to the full glare of everyone as they fisted into it like wild animals.The rage I felt was a calculated, cold anger – the kind that allowed me to remain composed in the face of chaos. It was the anger of a man who had seen and endured much, who had become a kingpin in a world where ruthlessness was a currency power.If I hadn’t bottled my anger, the stage would have been painted with their blood.My jaw was clenched in a vice, each muscle in my body drawn taut with anticipation. I sat on a leather couch with my legs crossed, as I waited in a dark room b

Celia I sat in the luxurious living room, the plush cushions of the grand sofa cradling my weary body. The events of the night at the club still haunted me, and I sought solace in the steaming cup of coffee I held in my trembling hands. The scent of the rich brew filled the air, a comforting contrast to the turmoil within me.As I took a sip, the bitterness of the coffee seemed to mirror the bitterness of my thoughts. The memory of what had transpired on that stage, the humiliation I had endured, was etched into my mind like a scar.Something was going on for sure. Something no one was willing to tell me, like why Alexander was keeping me close and why he’d let me get away with my tantrums. Why does he pay so much attention to me, unlike the other girls who work at the club? Alexander had abandoned me in his club, and though he tried to make amends, my words about needing to be alone might have struck a chord in him. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible because it was n

AlexanderCelia was on to something deeper. She was groomed for something way more than she could understand. Her true identity wasn’t known to her yet and it was better that way. She was already broken, learning that the man whom she called father her entire life was a fraud, would shatter her, and I was ready to shield her from the truth for as long as possible. I sat in my study, the faint glow of antique lamps casting an eerie shadow across the room. I was lost in thought, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the whiskey glass on my mahogany desk. The weight of what was about to happen weighed heavy on my shoulders. I was waiting for Rufus, I already told the man over the phone that I wasn’t ready for any form of meeting with him, but I knew he, his imposing self would be here any moment. The door swung open, and Rufus entered, his presence imposing even in the imposing room. We had a complicated history, marred by business disagreements, personal vendettas, and famil