Damon

 

 

It's never enough. 

No matter what I do, no matter what I achieve, no matter what I buy, no matter...

Nothing ever gives me that elevated feeling I crave. Nothing ever makes me feel full and accomplished. I've reached higher and higher, earning what others can only dream of, and all I'm left with is this damn void. Nothing ever lasts.

I know the rush when you get to the top, when you get what you've wanted for a long time, when you make something – or someone – yours. But after that first rush is over, there's nothing left. It's like the effect of a drug that wore off, and I'm back to where I came from.

Why does it come so easy to other people? Does it come easy to them? Or are they all lying? Their smiles might be as fake as most women's orgasms when anyone fucks them but me. I know it's the most common thing for them to do, but they can't lie to me. And they better not fucking try, because I will know. I hate being lied to. Who doesn't? But it's even worse for me, because I can smell a lie from a mile away. Betrayal reveals itself to me so easily it's almost boring. 

Boring. Such a sad and simple word but so fitting.

I stride through my living room, holding a tumbler with a sip of scotch in one hand and my phone in the other. Pondering the conversation I just had. Is this going to make a difference? Do I even care if it does? The call I just hung up on didn't excite me as much as it should have, but maybe that's okay. Maybe I shouldn't feel excited about a mere business deal, an investment really. It's the first time for me to be doing something like this, so I'm curious, maybe even nervous. But excited? Hardly. I have very little to lose and a lot to gain if this investment turns out to be lucrative. It's not exactly giving me thrills to think about where this might go. 

I sigh and take another sip of my scotch, my gaze migrating across the city skyline below. I literally live at the top of this city, at least it seems that way when I look down at it from here. Very few buildings in the immediate proximity match this residency's height. My penthouse stretches across the entire uppermost floor, about a third of it building an open terrace. I've only been living here for a few months, and I'm surprised to say that I haven't grown tired of this place yet. It's by far the nicest, most expensive place I've ever called home, and there's hope that it will calm my restless nature at least for a while. Before moving here, I could barely stand to stay in the same place for longer than three months before I got sick of it. I was always on the move, quite literally. 

I flinch in surprise when the phone erupts with urgent ringing. It's rare for that to happen, and I don't expect anyone but Scott, the guy I just hung up on, to call me at this time. My eyebrows crease when I lift the phone to look at the screen. I recognize the number, but it's not Scott. 

"Hello," I greet, cautious expectation lacing my voice. 

"Mr. Graves, Belinda Barry here," a female voice pipes at the other end. "Calling from Violent Delights."

"Of course, Miss Barry," I retort. "What an unexpected pleasure."

She huffs. "Don't worry, Mr. Graves. I'm not calling with bad news."

Now I'm the one chuckling. "Why would I think that?"

"Well, you wouldn't be the first," she says, and even without seeing her, it's easy for me to imagine the face she's making. It's been a while since the Madame and I have met face to face, but Belinda Barry is a character to remember. "Most clients seem to anticipate bad news when they hear my voice on the phone."

So, I'm not the first one she's calling today about whatever this might concern. 

"I'm simply surprised," I tell her. "We haven't spoken since-"

"Since you first signed the contract. Yes, I'm aware," she finishes my sentence. "And I promised you back then that we'd only contact you outside of commissions if there was an urgent matter to discuss."

"Correct," I say, lifting the glass to my lips while I wait for her to continue.

"I don't know if urgent is the correct word for this," she goes on. "But I was wondering if I could steal a few minutes of your time to talk about an opportunity that I'm sure you'd be interested in."

"An opportunity?" I probe. "What kind?"

"An opportunity to enhance both your pleasure and your business portfolio."

I knit my eyebrows, tasting the scotch as it heats my tongue. Her vague tone agitates me, to say the least.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Of course," she says. "But if you don't mind, I think it's best to discuss this in private. Here."

"You want me to come to the agency for this?"

"You won't regret it."

"If this is just about introducing a new girl to me, I'm not really looking to-"

"No, it's nothing like that," she cuts me off. "Mr. Graves, I would never ask for a visit from you if I didn't think you'd benefit from it."

I sigh, turning my back to the window as I walk toward the seating area in my living room, passing the upholstered furniture as I aim for the bar table. One more drink tonight. That should be fine. 

"Can you come by tomorrow? Around noon?" Miss Barry asks. "I won't take much of your time and I promise-"

"Noon sharp," I cut her off. "I'll be there."

"Perfect."