Jimmy's plea

“Mr. … Mr. Blackwood?” I muttered in shock, trying to confirm if it was really him or my eyes were playing games with me.

He stared at me with furrowed eyebrows, like he was also surprised to see me here and he needed to make sure that I was real. His eyes were dilated and a bit red, his hair was messed up and his black long sleeve shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing his quite hairy chest.

“Anna? Am I imagining this?” he said soberly, it was like he had just come off a hangover but his breath still smells like bourbon.

“No, I am here. Is everything okay, Mr. Blackwood?” I asked with genuine concern. Honestly, he didn’t look okay to me and that would be the first time. “What are you doing here?” I added immediately.

He creased his eyebrows like I had just asked an irrelevant question. “What am I doing here?” he replied calmly. “Well, I own this place, Ann.”

“Oh,” I muttered as my jaws dropped. Of course, Billionaire playboy, how can it be complete if he didn’t own a nightclub?

“Yeah…