Morning comes before I’m ready for it.

So many mornings I’ve woken up alone, but today is different. I feel something warm take over my body. It must be that I am sleeping next to the most beautiful woman in the world.

I’m still riding on cloud nine after everything last night. I didn’t think I would ever feel this way about anyone.

I reach over to the other side of the bed, my hand reaching out for her.

Even though last night was incredible, I’m still searching for the reassurance that it wasn’t just a dream.

My hand reaches to where Gabrielle should be, but I find that the spot where she is supposed to be is vacant.

There is a moment of panic that grips me.

I get up and tear back the sheets as if somehow, I will find out that she’s hiding under there, but obviously, such an action is pointless. My worst fears are confirmed when reality hits that Gabrielle is gone. The only trace of her presence is the faint scent of her perfume that is left behind on the sheets.

I roll back onto my pillow and stare up at the ceiling.

I can’t believe it.

Gabrielle left, but why?

I run through the previous nights’ events in my mind.

Was I too forceful with her?

No, that’s not it. She was the one who wanted it hard and rough.

No, her leaving has nothing to do with my skills.

I sigh.

I think of all the women who have passed between my sheets. Some of them were amazing—all of them gorgeous—but never have I wanted to wake up next to one of them.

Not until Gabrielle.

I was even planning on treating her to breakfast in bed.

I look under the pillow. Part of me thinks—or rather hopes—that she left a note.

Nothing.

The door opens, and my butler appears in the bedroom doorway.

“Morning, Winston.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Do you know where Gabbi went at all?”

Winston nods. “Yes, Mr. Sterling. She took her money and left.”

“She didn’t say anything or leave a message for me?”

“No, sir.”

No note. No goodbye message.

She just took the money and ran.

“Fuck. I can’t believe this.”

“Is something wrong, sir?” Winston asks.

“No, it’s nothing.”

But that’s a lie. Something is wrong.

I’ve woken up without Gabrielle at my side.

For the first time in my life, I feel used.

“Well, I have gone ahead and ordered breakfast for you, sir.”

“I’m not hungry,” I growl.

“Alright, sir, I will cancel the order.”

Winston closes the door when he leaves.

I get out of the bed and find myself pacing back and forth.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

I’m actually pissed at the whole thing.

I shouldn’t be, but it’s the first time this has happened to me.

Usually, I’m the one throwing the women out the next morning. The whole idea behind my lifestyle is that I get to experience the pleasure without all of the complicated emotions and commitment.

But last night with Gabrielle was another first. What we had—or what I thought we had, anyway—was extraordinary.

Call her, you idiot.

I search for my jacket and find it tucked away under the bed—likely kicked there last night without my realizing. I dig through it for my phone.

I pull up her contact information and press the screen so hard that I think I’m going to push my thumb right through it.

Instead of a ring tone, I’m greeted by a robotic female voice.

“We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service.”

I hang up and throw my phone across the room. It shatters against the wall.

Fuck it, I’ll buy a new one.

This woman—the most amazing woman I’ve ever met—has walked out of my life without so much as a goodbye.

Then it occurs to me that she took that money pretty damn fast.

Is that all this was to her? Didn’t anything I say—or any of the time we spent together—mean anything?

I should have known better. That’s all this had been for her—business.

I walk over to the window and draw the curtains open.

The morning sun streams in and touches my naked body. Despite the sunlight and cloudless sky outside, there is a grey cloud inside that casts a great shadow over my mood.

I look out over the streets.

Is she still down there? Or did she leave before the sun had finished its climb up the morning sky?

She slipped out quietly—that much I know for certain. I didn’t even hear her stir.

I feel like I’ve been deceived.

After all the games that I’ve played and all the hearts that I’ve broken, I never imagined that it would happen to me.

Is this what karma is? Did I have this coming?

I’m not the commitment type—at least, I thought I wasn’t anyway—but that doesn’t mean that I can’t change. Or wouldn’t change—for her.

Truth be told, there’s a part of me that began to see a future with Gabrielle at my side. I’m loath to admit I entertained those thoughts now, but they still linger in the back of my mind.

I’m torn between wanting to break this fucking window and running out to find her.

This is the last time I ever mix business with pleasure.

Shit, I need a drink.

“Winston, can you get in here?” I yell over my shoulder.

A moment later, the door opens.

“You called, sir.”

“Open the Dalmore 62,” I order.

“Just a glass or the whole bottle?”

He knows me better than I think sometimes.

“Just a glass for now, thank you.”

“Right away, sir.”

Winston comes back a few minutes later with a filled glass and the bottle.

He holds the glass out to me, but I go straight for the bottle.

Winston drinks from the glass.

“This was different this time around, wasn’t it, sir?”

“Yes, Winston. Yes, it was.”

I take a drink from the bottle. It burns my throat like liquid fire—just as I need it to.

“Do you require anything else from me, sir?”

“No, thank you, Winston,” I say as I cling tighter to the bottle in my hand.

He nods and leaves with the empty glass.

My head is pounding like someone’s hammered my skull.

I sit down in the chair across from the bed and set the glass against my thigh. The cold glass feels good my bare skin.

My whole body feels like it’s drenched in flame. These intense emotions running through me have my body vibrating.

I take another drink of the whisky.

I hope to drown all of these unfamiliar emotions that rage like a storm deep in the core of my gut. I don’t want to feel this—whatever this is—any longer.

And I don’t want to think about Gabrielle anymore.

So, if that means I need to find solace at the bottom of this bottle, then so be it.