Billionaire's Threat by Storm Sloan

Author:Storm, Sloan [Storm, Sloan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-03T14:00:00+00:00

GREY

You’d think that having more money than you need or ever hope to spend in your lifetime would give you the goddamn freedom you need to enjoy it while you’re alive. Yet here I sat, at thirty-eight thousand feet in the air, winging my way across the globe in my jet to wrap up another mind-numbing deal.

Funny thing is, I didn’t use to think of them like that. The face-to-face, pressing-the-flesh interactions. Hell, I lived for it. After all, business is the ultimate form of combat. Life or death. Survive or die and I fucking loved everything about it. So I always took the responsibility that came with it in stride, despite the inconvenience.

Were they tedious? Yeah.

Unnecessary? Almost without exception. I nearly always got the exact same terms I negotiated over the phone.

But mind numbing? No. No. Not that.

For as long as I could remember, the high I got from closing a large transaction, well, not much else came close to pure pleasure in my world. But fuck all if this trip wasn’t the last thing I wanted to do right now.

Half a bottle of vodka gone, I waved off my flight attendant, Melanie, as she offered me some water.

“Ice,” I grunted. “And a goddamn fresh glass.”

Melanie swallowed hard as she took the crystal from the table in front of me. The snarl in my tone reflected in her hands, which trembled as she attempted to steady the tray.

With a slow blink and a deep exhale, I swallowed and said, “I’m um, sorry. Sorry about that Melanie, sweetheart.”

A nervous smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “It’s okay. Anything else Mr. Sinclair?”

I shook my head. “No, dear. Just the fresh glass and some ice, please. Thank you.”

Melanie turned and walked away, disappearing from view as she returned to the galley at the front of the aircraft. Resting my elbow on the table, I closed my fingers together and pinched my lips between them.

I stared in her direction, looking at nothing.

The sound of ice cubes dancing inside a glass broke my train of thought for a moment. A few seconds later, Melanie reappeared. As she swung into view, I noticed the tray contained a full ice bucket and four clean rocks glasses. She placed it down on the table without comment. I allowed her to do so without observation.

After she finished, she nodded at me.

“Anything else Mr. Sinclair?”

I shook my head. “No. Not right now.”

She turned to walk back to the front.

A few seconds later, she’d vanished again. Grabbing the vodka bottle, I tilted it upward. The liquid gurgled into the glass, splashing out in random drops as it ricocheted off the sharp angles of the cubes. I placed the bottle back down on the table with a single thump and then lifted the glass to my mouth.

The alcohol no longer burned as I gulped it down. Numbness took its place.

Finally.

I poured another. And another. I must have hammered back three glasses in five minutes.

With each one, the heat from the booze hit me later and later until at last I reached the point I wanted, needed.

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