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Elijah

“Good evening, Mr. Trevino. How was the party?”

“It was fine, Malcolm. Thank you for asking.” I slid into the back of the limo and rested my head against the seat, oddly worn out after the long night. The woman, Katie, hadn’t stopped chatting my ear off for two hours straight. How she got any work done at Meadowbrook was beyond me, but it wasn’t my business to know or care. These fundraisers were so frequent that each became like a mindless task of socializing, drinking, and throwing money at all the right people. I had an image to maintain, no matter how mundane the activities.

“Did you see anything to your liking?” Malcolm asked, smiling at me in the rear-view mirror. “Or, more specifically, anyone?”

I chuckled darkly. No one in Seattle should know my business but for me. Only my most loyal assistant could ask about my romantic life, as I liked to keep it private. That was just common courtesy. Tonight, however, had brought out a desire that had for so long been silenced. That girl, the one with the cute purse. She hadn’t even told me her name before rushing out the door to catch her ride. Since her departure, I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind.

“There was someone,” I said softly, mostly to myself. “She was lovely. I believe she’s a staff at that Meadowbrook place.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, remembering her face, savoring the beautiful lines in her skin and how her eyes had darkened when we’d spoken. She was a spitfire, I could tell, and I liked that in a woman. It was rare that a female looked at me with anything other than pure lust, but she hadn’t. She looked at me like I was nothing, nobody.

And I fucking loved it.

“Does this mystery woman have a name?” asked Malcolm.

“She didn’t tell me.” I shrugged off my coat and set it aside, rolling down the window a crack to breathe in some fresh air. “But that’s not an issue. Whoever she is, I’ll find her again.”

“As you do,” Malcolm agreed.

We arrived at my building promptly, and Malcolm bid me goodnight before pulling away. I took the elevator to the sixteenth floor, almost too exhausted to make it to my penthouse. Socializing took a lot out of me, and I never knew why. Despite being in the spotlight constantly, I wasn’t much of a people person. The mindless conversations with these humans bore me, and small talk was physically painful. What happened to honest discussions about real things? Politics, religions, world news, aspirations, education, psychology? Did that not exist anymore? Was there nothing to talk about but petty parties, money, and sex?

Once inside, I removed my shoes and placed them on the shoe rack near the door. My home was clean, but only because my housekeeper Lilian came every day to make sure I didn’t have to live in misery. I tried to convince myself that I was clean for a man, but truth be told, I was a slob. You’d never know it, thanks to Lilian. I made a mental note to leave her a large tip for tomorrow.

After pouring a glass of hundred-year-old scotch, I took a seat in front of the TV but didn’t turn it on. Television seemed more of a nuisance than anything, but staring at the blank screen relaxed me, even if I wasn’t focused on anything.

But I was focused on something. Or someone.

After a few minutes, I opened my laptop and brought up the search engine so I could do more research on this Meadowbrook place. I did not regret my donation, as I had been told it would be a great, iconic move for a man with my kind of money. Fifty thousand dollars was pocket change, but I’d been instructed to give no more and no less. I didn’t like being told what to do, and my new accountant was nosey and controlling with my money. I wondered briefly if it was time to find a new one.

I brought up the Meadowbrook site and scrolled through the information, finally finding the staff page I had been looking for. I recognized Katie’s smiling face at once; owner, supervisor, pain in my ass. I scrolled down a bit more until I spotted the woman I’d been looking for.

Ava Newman, counselor. Graduated from the University of Washington with a psychology degree, top of her class.

I stared at that picture on the screen. She was posing with a dog, some German Shepherd-looking thing, and her smile was genuine, eyes bright. That silky blond hair was pulled up in a bun behind her head. So classic and yet so exquisite. She was a curvy woman, none of that sticks and bones type shit, and I knew that I wanted her. I wanted to feel her; I wanted to know her. I wanted to fuck her.

Smiling, I closed the screen on the laptop and set it aside, taking another long drink from my glass.

Fortunately for me, I always got exactly what I wanted.

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