As usual, it’s a long day of business as usual. That essentially means keeping people in line, and doing what’s necessary to maintain my power in the finance world. The competitors are always at my throat, always looking for a weak point, but it’s easy for me to show them that I’m not someone they want to mess with.

Despite the long day of meetings and heated private calls, the sight of that girl in the mailroom won’t leave my mind.

She was hot, and not in the normal way. It’s like she has no idea how fucking hot she is. I could just see it in her body, in the way she stood, in the little movement she made.

She couldn’t look away from me. That’s to be expected. I tend to have that effect on women, whether I try to or not.

My cock’s swelling just thinking about her on my drive home.

But I’ve got other things to occupy my mind.

A thousand of them.

Anyway, she’ll be mine sooner or later. I’ll make sure of that.

I downshift my BMW M3 and slowly pull into my driveway, making sure not to scrape the bottom of the car.

The garage door senses the device in my car and automatically opens, swiftly and smoothly.

I park the M3 next to my other car, a Porsche 911, and get out.

“Nancy?” I call out, entering the house from the garage.

“Welcome home, Mr. Masters,” says Nancy, appearing from around a corner in the hallway. She can be strangely formal sometimes, but I like to keep a distance between myself and my employees, anyway.

“How’s Laura doing?”

“She’s in bed. She had a tough day at school.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“I don’t want to bother you with it, Mr. Masters. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want her falling behind in school,” I say. “See to it that the tutors are aware of the situation.”

“Of course, Mr. Masters.”

I nod my head stiffly.

Laura’s my daughter. She just started fourth grade this year. She needs to do well, and she has all the opportunities I can give her. She’s in the best private school here in Philadelphia, and she’s got the best tutors money can buy. I don’t see what my ex-wife has to complain about.

My phone rings, and I groan as I look at my ex-wife’s name on the screen.

“Let’s keep it short this time, Alicia,” I say as I pick up.

“How dare you talk to me like that!” She’s talking a mile a minute, rapid and frantic. She’s probably on something again, but who the hell knows what. Our marriage fell apart when she decided she liked drugs better than me or our daughter. Yeah, addiction is a disease, but she’s had all the help she could get. I sent her to the most expensive addiction centers and bought her the best counseling available. And she kept making the wrong choices.

Great, we’re already at it.

“I’ll talk to you any way I like,” I say. “Where are you, under a bridge somewhere?”

“I’m clean, don’t you know that?”

“We’ll see what the court says about that,” I say. “Listen, I’m not going to stay on the phone long. You’re clearly on something. If you have something to say, spit it out now.”

Her voice suddenly changes in tone. It becomes low, slower, and sinister. “I just want you to know,” she says, “that I’m going to get her. I’m going to get full custody of Laura, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve got a plan this time,” she says, her voice becoming darker. “You’re never going to see your daughter again.”

“This has been fun,” I say. “Next time, call when you’re sober.”

I hang up the phone to the sounds of her screaming at me.

I don’t see how she could possibly get full custody of Laura, especially since the last I heard she was kicked out of a halfway house for drug use. It’s just another one of her delusions, and it’s sad that this is what’s become of her. But it was never going to work out between us anyway.

Since the divorce, I’ve made sure to provide for Laura—giving her the best of everything.

And I’ve had my fun, too. I’m not exactly the type to stay at home after work. Unless there’s female company involved, and we’re headed straight to the bedroom. Nancy, my daughter’s caretaker, knows not to disturb me, and I’ve paid to have my bedroom soundproofed.

I head to the bar in the living room and pour myself a whiskey on the rocks, settling down into an armchair. Nancy has made herself scarce, and isn’t anywhere to be seen.

The cleaning staff comes every day when I’m at work, making sure everything is immaculate.

I chuckle to myself, thinking about a judge ruling in Alicia’s favor, especially if he could see this place. I mean, how could Alicia possibly provide a better life for Laura?

My phone rings and I groan again. It better not be someone from work. I told my assistant not to bother me at home unless it’s very, very important. Like nuclear meltdown level important.

But I grin when I see who it is.

“Jordan!” I say. “You’d better not be calling to ask me for money again.”

“No such luck,” says Jordan. “Just thought I’d see what the hell you’re getting up to tonight.”

“Looks like I’m staying in tonight. The ex-wife called and killed the urge, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s the way it goes with ex-wives,” says Jordan. “I should know. I’ve lost track of how many I have.”

“I don’t have any idea how you make all those alimony payments.”

Jordan chuckles. “Good investing, just like you taught me. So what was it this time? She wanted money to get high?”

“It was weird. She threatened to take Laura away from me. She said she had a plan. Honestly, it sounded pretty bizarre, but you know her.”

“Just a delusion, probably,” says Jordan.

Let’s hope so, I think to myself.