Chapter 2

Unknown POV

"Tell me, son." My father tightened his grip on the golf club. "When are you planning on settling down, finding you a pretty girl, and making some damn grandbabies?" He took a swing, watching the ball disappear into the terrace.

"You know me, Dad." I lined on my club at the tee. "I am a wild guy."

"So I have read," he mumbled, watching me as I took a swing,.

"Some women... They never want us for who we are but what we have and can give." I adjusted the firearm on my waist.

"Not every woman. Look at your stepmom, Lilith. She has been good to me."

No, Dad, you're wrong. Lilith was one of those women that only liked men for what they could offer her, and you fell right into her trap. Wasn't the name enough, Day? Lilith? Like, seriously, that woman is the fucking devil in disguise.

"I am sure she is." I rolled my eyes in annoyance, admiring the view.

"She has even advised me to be a bit sterner with you."

Of course, she did.

"I mean, son... I am getting old, and I can't be taking care of you your whole life. It's time for you to take some responsibility. Own up to your shit."

I knew exactly where this conversation was going, and I didn't want to hear another word of it.

"Look, Dad," I stuttered, "I have a business that's going well. I am planning on capitalizing more branches, and I-I just cannot be focusing on a relationship right now. When we reach that bridge, we will cross it."

"Can't do, son," he turned to leave, with me ambling behind him.

"You need to show me that you're at least capable of holding down a woman."

Like Lilith? The only place that witch needs to be held down is underwater, I thought.

"Do this for me for more than six months. Get married, even; that would make me happy before I die. But I will have to cut you off and cut you out of the will. This business you kept talking about; what is it?"

"Dad, it's a—"

"Honey," Lilith called out from the doorway, interrupting our conversation.

"Lunch is ready. Come on."

What did my father do to deserve such a witch as Lilith Saunders and her gold-digging daughter, Stefanie. It all started after my father cheated with one of the maids. It wasn't a one-time thing; it was constant cheating, and my mother knew. She woke up day, sent me to school, told the chefs to take the day off, and made him breakfast, his favorite. And when he sat there, he was enjoying breakfast that was made by his wife, only for her to pull out divorce papers. Her mind was made up, and she had probably planned it for months. Her signature was already on every sheet. And even when he wiped his hands and the corners of his mouth, she kept on eating because when a woman is tired of your bullshit, she is really tired.

When we were poor and living in the apartment, Dad was humble. But when he got rich, things got bad. Leading up to my mom’s diagnosis with cancer, my dad started drinking, and I became a rebellious teenager. But it was her funeral that made him wake up and finally smell the coffee. He realized he was a shitty parent, and things got good for a while. Then he met Lilith.

"Oh, you’re here." She glared at me, eyes filled with scorn and disgust.

"Yes, Lilith... I am here." I walked up the steps, following closely behind my father.

"Oh, it's because you didn't call. You should call, you know, before you visit. You can't just pop up here."

"It is my father's house, Lilith. I can visit him whenever I want."

Saying nothing, she walked away, upset that my father didn't rush to her defense.

"Dad, I have to go. I will call you, okay?"

"Next time I see you, you should have a girl clinging on to those arms, boy."

"Not sure I am going to find a girl by next week," I chuckled.

"I am serious about cutting you off if you don't find a girlfriend or wife and settle down."

"Right, see you later, old man," I patted him on the shoulder before walking away to the parking lot where my car was.

"Big brother." I rolled my eyes at her voice, squeezing the keys tighter in my palm.

"Technically, we are not siblings, Stefanie. Your mother is just fucking my dad... And when he gets tired of it, all of this," I pointed my finger at me then her, "will end, and we will be back to being strangers,"

"Funny you say a thing like 'gets tired.' I am wondering if you're talking from experience. He did get tired of you and your mother. The only thing is my mother is smarter. Oh, and I should tell you Dad is planning on cutting you off until you can prove you're somewhat reliable. If you can prove it."

Staring at her, a million feelings coursed through my veins, mostly anger. And I couldn't do anything about it because they had my dad wrapped around their fucking fingers, and I had to just wait it out.

"Guess we will see." I opened my car door.

"And why do you keep wearing those dollar store clothes? You broke?"

Saying nothing, I slid across the car's interior. Bringing the engine to life, I left.

I didn't want to go home; in fact, I needed a fucking drink or ten. Pulling up to this local bar, I parked my car out front, looking around as soon as I was inside. It was empty. I guess the regulars were all at work.

"No fucking way." The bartender clicked her tongue from across the room. Tattoos trailed up her arms like sleeves, a few small but visible ones on her face, and she had a lip piercing, which was probably a clip-on. She wasn't the ideal type of woman; she was pretty, no doubt about that, but attractive... no, not to me.

"What's a fucking rich kid doing in a bar," she continued.

"What everyone else came here to do... drink." I walked towards the counter.

"Almost didn't recognize you. Are all your suits at the laundry? I’m Sally, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Sally. I am—"

"Oh, I know you... Everyone knows you." She leaned in closer, licking her lips as she sucked seductively on a lollipop.

"Give me a shot of gin." I smiled. See, Dad, women only date you for what you can give them, and right now, I could tell that Sally wanted a piece of me.

Setting the glass down on the counter, I slid her ten bucks.

"It's only five dollars."

"Take it... Take the rest as a tip or whatever."

"So, you're not only cute and rich," she continued sucking on the lollipop, "you're kind too."

Chugging down the drink, I groaned when it burned my chest, amused that she knew who I was and proceeded to flirt with me.

"Give me another," I kept my eyes fixed on her, "and drink something, anything. It's on me."

It was rude not to offer at first, but I only wanted to grab a drink and drive wherever life took me, but here I was alone with a woman I deemed as unattractive at first, but now she was looking quite desirable. I guess the gin was finally kicking in.

"You know, men like you... don’t go for girls like me." She took an empty glass from the shelf and poured the liquid into my glass first, then hers.

"But, here you are, having a drink with me." She placed the bottle down, hoisting her cup.

"A toast?" I raised my eyebrow. "To what?"

"I know the only reason you are probably here is because you are going through some shit. I used to go through shit every day, the kind of stress that made me drink every day."

"So, you got through it? Stopped drinking?"

"Who said anything about stopping drinking? I work in a bar. I now have liquor any time I want. Welcome to the real world, pretty boy." She clinked her glass against mine.

I said nothing. I drank it all down—the gin, my problems—only for them to resurface at the back of my throat.

"You know what else is good for stress." She clasped her palm over my hold on the glass.

"Sex," she whispered. Her face was close... too close.

"Are you extremely stressed, Mr. Millionaire?"

"Without a doubt." My lips brushed against hers.

Retreating behind the counter, she glanced at me over her shoulder, making her way to a door at the corner of the bar. I didn't know if I should follow her or not, but I wanted to.

Standing from the stool, I ambled towards the door, pushing it open. I found her naked, pinching her nipples while staring at me. Not surprisingly, she had more tattoos all over her body, but that didn't matter now, did it? Looking around, I noticed it was a small changing room, most likely for the bartenders who come and go.

"Are you just going to stand there, rich kid, or are you going to fuck me?"

Reaching for her throat, I kicked the door shut behind me. Swerving her around, I braced her face against it, my cock throbbing in my pants wanting to come out and play. Pulling down my zipper, I slipped on a condom and parted her ass cheeks.

"Fuck me," she begged. "Come on."

Thrusting into her, she let out a sharp gasp, moaning as I pounded into her pussy. The deeper I went I felt her walls opening up around my shaft.

"So fucking tight," I moaned. Just how I like it.

Her whimpers filled the air, along with our body slaps and the moisture from her core. It was so wet, similar to the sounds of mac and cheese in a mixing bowl.

"Fuck," I moaned out. I was close. I could feel it rushing from my scrotum, traveling up my shaft.

"I am close." I began to thrust into her harder. "I am so fucking close."

Taking a deep breath while my dick was still pulsating in her, I pulled out, removed the condom, and grabbed a sheet of the hand towels to clean the tip of my dick before stuffing it back into my pants.

"I guess you do live up to your reputation," she giggled.

Unfortunately, I thought.

"So... I was thinking." She waddled over to where I stood; her knees were surely weak from that all pleasure.

"Maybe we should hang out sometime."

Chuckling under my breath, I cupped her cheeks, staring into her eyes.

"Remember what you said earlier?"

"What?"

"Guys like me... don't go for girls like you." I kissed her on the cheek before ambling out. That's one more on the list of bars I couldn't show my face in for a while.